Ella

Mikael drives me home.

Abbey had to leave early, so I said I'd either find a ride or crash at Brenna's house. When it came time to leave, I didn't feel like intruding on Brenna and Shea's privacy. They looked exhausted. Waking up at their place the next morning didn't feel right. An invitation for tonight's party was good enough. No need to extend it.

"Ryland knew damn well what he was doing," I say.

Somehow, our conversation became about my cheating, scumbag ex-boyfriend. The dam is broken. Despite being sober, I can't stop talking about Ryland. About my broken heart and the shards that keep pricking what's left. It feels like there's weight in my chest and on the back of my neck. I want to collapse to the ground and never feel again.

But I also miss the emotions that were tied to our relationship. The relationship I thought we had. Because while Ryland's emotions were fabricated, mine were real. Real as the ache in my chest.

"Whenever you cheat, someone finding out is inevitable," I continue. "It's an unwritten rule. When you play with fire, you'll burn yourself. If you drink poison, it'll kill you. And all those other cliché sayings. The fact is, he knew. He knew what the fuck he was doing. Ryland should've told me he had—has feelings for Janae. It's just not fair."

He flashes me a sympathetic smile as we turn down my street. The city lights of Vancouver are bright, but the onset of fog hangs low, shrouding the tops of the buildings. "That was shitty. I'm sorry, Ella. You deserve so much better."

All I do is nod. Aside from my relationship with Kaleb, all my relationships have been shitty. If someone isn't cheating on me, then they're trying to control me or telling me I need to change. After such a bad run, I thought Ryland was a good catch. Maybe I was oblivious to the signs because I was so taken aback by his kindness. Or maybe I attract the bad guys because of my poor relationship with my father.

I press my forehead against the cool glass of the window and expel a sigh. While I can take part of the blame, it doesn't weigh solely on my shoulders. That's what society wants me to think; that my kindness is a weakness. That I'm stupid to give men second chances. No matter what, society would judge me. Not directly, but the norms that have been created would infiltrate my mind. Protecting my heart makes me a prude. Keeping it out in the open makes me stupid. There's no balance.

Besides, most of these men have manipulated me or used their kindness to conceal their true personalities. I've been a victim of their behaviour. It's just not fair.

Mikael guides the vehicle into a parking spot, using his back-up camera to make sure he's within the lines. His car is sleek and nothing but expensive; leather, ambient lighting, a killer sound system—everything. It even smells expensive.

After shifting into Park, Mikael turns in his seat. He stares ahead at the road, his dark gaze scouring the area for signs of activity.

"Can I walk you up?" he asks.

We're across the street from my building, but I'll need to unlock the main door and walk up the stairs. There are some strange people in the building, and who knows if someone will walk by while I'm unlocking the door. It's preposterous that women have to consider their safety when walking the streets at night.

"That'd be nice. Thank you."

Mikael collects his keys and exits the vehicle. I follow.

Outside, the air smells musky and the breeze on my face is cool. When I walk around the front of the car, meeting Mikael on the driver's side, I note the shadows that constrict across his face from the warm streetlight above.

He flashes me a small smile. "Got everything?"

I adjust my bag. It's slung over my shoulder and the weight rests on my hip.

"Yeah," I reply.

After surveying for oncoming traffic, Mikael and I head across the street. My flats scuff against the granules of gravel atop the asphalt as we walk, echoing through the quiet street. It's late, and most of the roads were empty as Mikael drove, which was nice. No traffic or stupid drivers.

At the door, I withdraw my keys from my purse and unlock the main door. Inside, we're welcomed by a blast of heat and the smell of fresh paint. The lobby area just had renovations done last week, and the chemical smell of fresh paint has been lingering for days. To our left, is access to the stairs. Ahead, is the broken elevator. Two wilting plants bracket it, as well as a sign nailed to the wall with directions. There's a waiting area to our right. Behind that, is the hallway to the first-floor apartment rooms.

"The elevator's broken," I say.

He shoves his hands in his pockets. Shrugs. "I don't mind walking. If you want my company."

I inhale, holding my breath for several seconds before nodding. Just because he's walking me up the stairs doesn't mean I have to invite him in. "Okay, yeah."

We embark on our journey up the stairs, step-by-step and in silence, save for the sound of our shoes.

When we arrive at the third floor, Mikael pauses on the landing and glances up the stairs. "You do this every day?"

"Yeah," I shrug. "It's not too bad. I'm a personal trainer, so I count this as my warm up in the morning, and my cool down in the evening."

He smiles, flashing his dimples. "You'll have to teach me some exercises sometime. I'll pay you, of course."

I snort, glancing at his body. He's nothing but muscle. Solid muscle. His leather jacket hugs his bulging biceps, and his jeans are nothing shy of showing off his toned thighs and ass. No wonder women want to sleep with him; he's difficult to ignore. There's an undeniable level of physical attraction.

Good for those women, too. Going for what they want. Men aren't the only ones who may have casual sex. There's no such thing as a slut or some other derogatory term reserved for women.

If my heart didn't feel heavy, I'd probably invite Mikael inside for a drink. Maybe it'd lead us to the bedroom after. We'd wake up in the morning, in the same bed, then say goodbye. Or maybe he'd be gone before I woke up.

Either way, he would be a temporary cure to the loneliness.

But right now, especially after spilling my guts to him, I want to focus on healing myself. My thoughts have been a mess all night. I feel disassociated from reality. As if I'm on the outside looking in while life continues on for the rest of society. Whatever decisions I make need to be based on aftermath and not on impulsiveness.

"As if you need more training," I say. We make it to the next floor, pausing at near the elevator again. We're not breathing heavily, but our hearts are pumping. Eyeing Mikael's thighs, I mentally snort. As if his thighs are burning like mine. I can't get over how toned his thighs are—even beneath the jeans. "But if you want to join in on a few training sessions for amusement, I'll check my schedule."

My back is facing the next set of stairs. Behind Mikael, I see the forever broken elevator and more wilting plants. I'll never understand the need for real plants in foyers. There are plenty of fake plants can look real. Also, the pots they're in are turquoise, and they clash with the yellowish-white colour of the walls. I can't wait until renovations are complete on all floors. This place will look so much better.

"Why would it be for amusement?" he asks.

I cock an eyebrow. "Please. I know the training you, Shea, Kaleb, and the rest of the team receive. Prior to starting my own practice, I helped workout devise plans for Vancouver's farm team in Abbotsford. Their equipment was state-of-the art. Being an NHL team? I bet that's a different story." Jerking my thumb over my shoulder, I gesture to the next set of stairs. "One more set to go."

Mikael follows me. "Our training is good. Intensive, but good. However, we're stuck with the same people. Team and staff. It would be nice to switch it up. Meet some new people and have a personal trainer who plays better music."

I snort again. "You know nothing about my taste in music."

"No," he replies, "I don't. But anything is better than Smith's music."

There's a hard edge to Mikael's tone when he says Shea's last name. It raises a red flag. I understand that not all teammates like each other. But after Shea's warning and hearing the disgust in Mikael's tone... something's making me feel uneasy. Maybe, if I see Kaleb tomorrow, I'll ask him for information. Shea doesn't enjoy dragging people into his drama. Says it reminds him too much of high school, which he still regrets in some respects. Asking him won't allow me to gain any information.

"Drama between teammates?" I ask, keeping my voice light.

Glancing over my shoulder, I catch Mikael shrugging.

"Little bit. That kid gets on my nerves, but he's an excellent hockey player. And he'll be an excellent captain. Coach has solidified nothing yet, but everyone's betting on Smith."

"Doesn't seem like a kid to me," I chuckle. "Trust me, I knew him when he was a kid."

"He's a kid to me," Mikael says. "He's two years younger than me."

That means Mikael is twenty-seven, and also two years older than me. "Age is just a number. And, really, after high school no one cares about your age. While I was in my program, the age range was so vast. Like I said, no one cared. We all got along and studied together for exams. It was a lot of fun."

"Fair point. I, uh, never attended university or college, but I can imagine."

Soon, we're standing in front of the door to my apartment. My gaze flicks down the hallway to where Kaleb's apartment is. It'll be sad when he moves out of the building. Running into him on the stairs or in the hallway helps ease some of the loneliness. He's a familiar face. A friend.

My attention returns to Mikael. He's standing across from me, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. He also towers over me by several inches.

He swallows, his Adam's Apple bobbing. I tear my gaze away from his, nerves climbing up my throat. My body misses sex. Misses being touched and loved, and the sensations that pair with emotions. Like wine and chocolate; seductive, yet oh so charming.

Mikael reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. His thumb runs across my cheekbone. "Ryland is a fucking idiot."

The tension between us is taut and charged. Ready to snap. All I want him to do it kiss me. Take me to my bed and make me forget everything that's happened. My body longs for connection.

But I know that's not the route to take. I'll regret it in the morning. And despite my earlier thoughts and the way my body is reacting, I have to do what's logically good for my mental health.

"Th-Thanks for driving me home, Mikael. I appreciate it."

He smiles, and my knees become weak.

His dimples are too cute.

"Not a big deal," he replies. His voice is lower, making his Finnish accent stronger. He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck. "Look, uh, Ella. I know the circumstances aren't great. And maybe it's too bold of me to ask, but would you consider going out for a bite to eat? Or maybe, I don't know, a hike? We don't have to label it as a date, but I would like to spend more time with you. If that's not too overwhelming."

A wave of emotions hits me like a brick wall. I have to blink several times to control the threat of tears. The emotions are making it difficult to find my voice. His thoughtfulness is overwhelming.

He stuffs his hands in his pockets. "I don't need an answer tonight. Take your time, Ella. Honestly. I'll see you around?"

All I can do is nod.

And then Mikael is heading downstairs, leaving me loitering in front of my door, still trying to find my voice.

I turn to the door and unlock it, stepping into my apartment. When the door closes, a heavy weight settles on my shoulders again. Limited light streams through the large window in the living room, giving me just enough visibility to note the lack of Ryland. Of his belongings. His cologne and the lingering scent of toasted spiced he used for cooking. The coffee table is void of his usual mug and Xbox remote.

The weight on my shoulders intensifies, moving to and consuming my heart.

I toss my keys onto the table and head for the living room, stumbling through the dark. It feels like I'm wading through sludge; as if time is moving at its regular pace but I'm moving in slow motion.

While going out did help ease some of the heartbreak, it's come back with a vengeance.

In the living room, I lay down on the couch, my back to the window and TV.

There, my emotions consume me.