RYAN and I walked into IKEA and took the elevator up two levels so we were on the showroom floor. I felt a sense of giddy joy being here. It felt safe and so stylish. One day, if I ever got on my feet and got my own apartment, I would decorate my entire home with IKEA furniture. Beside me, Ryan towered over me, with his baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. We were in the living room section. Everything looked so warm and happy. Just like it did on the commercials. I sat down on a couch and then spied a chair I needed to try out. I opened the drawer of a coffee table and inspected a lamp.
Ryan stood outside the showroom and watched me. “You really like IKEA, don’t you?”
“Who doesn’t?” I smoothed my hand over a textured pillow.
He motioned his head. “Come on. We’re shopping for a bedroom today.”
I got sidetracked by the living room storage and then the kitchen showrooms, but eventually we made our way to the bedroom showrooms. I stood looking around. “Are we getting furniture for your bedroom?”
“The guest bedroom.”
I froze momentarily. I knew I was living on borrowed time at Ryan’s place, but maybe, just maybe, if the furniture came in time, I would get to sleep in it for a couple nights. “What kind of furniture?”
He looked around. “The works. I need everything. I want the room to look as good as this room. Do you think you can help me out with that?”
I actually shivered. “The whole room? Everything?”
“We need furniture, blankets, decorations.”
Was this guy for real? “What’s your budget?”
“Unlimited.”
My good hand went to my chest. I was speechless. He might as well have handed me his credit card.
“I want the best of the best, Zoey. You think you can make my guest bedroom look guest worthy?”
“You want me to help pick?”
“I want you to be in charge.”
Here was my chance to repay Ryan for helping me out. A huge thrill rushed through me. I grabbed the mini pencil out of his hands. “I can do it.”
I WAS NERVOUS. I was giddy. I didn’t want to let Ryan down. I rushed from showroom to showroom, studying the furniture, the design, everything down to the throw pillows. Ryan sat in one of the showrooms, hunched over his phone, his head down and his face hidden by his hat.
I tried asking him a couple times for his advice, but he said, “I believe in you, Zoey.”
We were just about to head downstairs to the Market hall when Ryan put his hand on my back and steered me towards the cafeteria. “You promised me coffee.”
We shuffled into the line.
“You want breakfast?” his voice was low in my ear.
I wanted an IKEA breakfast. So bad. “You can’t keep buying me stuff.”
“Pretty sure I can cover a $1.99 breakfast.”
Our eyes met. “Waffles.”
“Funny, I had you pegged as an egg chick.”
I felt shy as he pulled out his wallet and paid for our meal. I mean, this wasn’t a date or anything, but I honestly couldn’t remember the last time someone else had bought me a meal. He led us towards a table by the window.
He lifted his coffee cup “So, here is to our first Swedish meal together.”
I clinked glasses with my plastic orange juice glass, “I wish I could do this every day.”
He looked amused. “You really like this place, hey?”
I used to watch this video of how these guys snuck into IKEA and stayed the night. That had always been my fantasy. That I became a little stowaway in IKEA and every night, I could sleep in whatever bed I wanted. I don’t think words could describe how this place made me feel. “It feels right here.”
“So Krista came by one night while I was gone?”
“Two nights.”
Krista was the most glamorous person I had ever met. I had been super nervous when she had appeared at Ryan’s place, but she had been so nice. She had ordered dinner both times for us. And she kicked off her heels and sat on Ryan’s couch like she owned it. She explained the game and didn’t ask too many questions.
“She came by two nights?” Ryan repeated.
“Yeah, Wednesday and last night.” She had also helped me retrieve my official ID from the Department of Child Protection Services so I could apply for a passport. When I asked her why I needed a passport, she told me that everyone needed one — just in case someone wanted to elope to Vegas.
He looked intrigued. “What did you guys talk about?”
“She yelled at the refs a lot. Explained the game. We just talked.”
“About what?”
“She recently broke up with her boyfriend.”
“Krista had a boyfriend?”
“They lived together for two years.”
“They did?” Ryan looked stunned. “Who was he?”
“A lawyer. He had a son.”
“Krista dated a guy with a son?”
“She said she misses the kid more than the guy.”
He sat back. “She told you all this?”
I squinted at Ryan. I could totally see Ryan being with someone like Krista. She was both beautiful and smart. “She’s single now.”
I watched his face to see what he thought, but he looked more confused than anything. “What else did she say?”
“She said you needed to get your head in the game and stop fighting so much.”
His mouth parted. “Seriously?”
I shrugged. “Just because someone picks a fight doesn’t mean you have to fight back.”
“That’s not how it works.”
“Why not?”
“If someone wants to fight, you need to be ready to go.”
“Krista said that Vancouver was a different team, and you needed to learn to skate it off.”
“You sound like my coach.”
“Do you like your new team?”
He looked like he wanted to say something, but someone walked by our table. He turned his face, looking out the window. When they passed, he looked at me. “Ready to go?”
THE MARKET HALL, where IKEA sold everything from dishes to lamps, felt like Christmas. Even though I wasn’t buying this for myself, it was still wildly exciting. I had all but memorized what I needed to make the room look perfect for any of Ryan’s guests.
The more I loaded into the cart, the more nervous I got, but he seemed unfazed by it. When I needed something lifted into the cart, he helped. I watched him closely, but he never once checked the price. He simply pushed the cart around and waited for me.
We were almost at the end. I wanted to find a couple candles.
“Ryan, do you like the scent of lingonberry or vanilla?”
No answer. I looked up. Something was going on. There was a huge crowd of people in the main aisle. People took photos with their phones. The crowd jostled with excitement. I couldn’t see Ryan. Then I saw his familiar blue cap. He was in the center of the crowd. I stood there in bafflement watching as more and more people crowded, holding their phones up, trying to take a picture.
Then I realized that Ryan was the reason for the crowd. He smiled and talked to people. He signed stuff and took selfies with people. Our eyes met momentarily.
I knew Ryan was a hockey player, but it never dawned on me that he was famous.
Someone shoved past me, hitting my sore shoulder so hard, it almost brought me to my knees. Eyes stinging, I bent over, taking in fortifying breaths. Pain fired down my entire side and up my neck. For one sick moment I thought I might puke.
“Excuse me,” I heard Ryan say repeatedly. “Just let me through, okay?”
He showed up beside me, his big hand on my back. “Zoey, are you okay?”
I was still trying to bring air into my lungs. “Huh.”
“Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”
Someone took a picture of us.
In a panic, I backed up away from him.
He looked grim. “Do you want to go? We can come back another day.”
And leave without getting the stuff for his bedroom? “Where’s our cart? Do you have the list?”
He studied me for a moment, completely ignoring everyone around us. “Give me your list, but stay close.”
I watched him wade back into the crowd and then he pushed our cart into the warehouse. It was ridiculous. Who knew there would be so many die hard hockey fans in IKEA? The crowd literally followed him like a mob. Ryan flagged down an IKEA worker and handed him my list. While the guy typed everything into the computer, Ryan turned around and signed dozens of IKEA paper lists with those shitty little pencils. I stood back and watched. He was acting like it was no big deal. He laughed with the kids, talked, and joked around. Everyone was taking his photo or trying to film him.
He looked up, found me and then motioned his head to move towards the front. While he paid for everything in the cart, I slipped to the front and waited anxiously at the doors.
Finally, Ryan was walking towards me with our overflowing cart.
He stopped in front of me. “How’s the shoulder?”
I still felt queasy, but I wasn’t sure if it was because it was just dawning on me exactly how big of a star Ryan was, or if it was because the pain was radiating through my entire body. “Fine.”
Once driving, I studied him. People had been fighting to get his autograph and that threw me.
“Does that always happen?”
“Just in Vancouver.”
“You’re famous.”
He snorted and glanced over at me. “The fans in this town are over the top.”
That was a complete understatement. It felt like that experience had shifted our careful existence. Things between us were already so uneven. Now this. I did not understand how I had ended up living on this guy’s couch. He was a star. Famous. By the time we got back to the apartment, my head was swimming. Without him reminding me, I took a pain pill and lay down on the couch, in too much pain to even get excited about everything we had bought.
I WOKE up with a stiff shoulder. Ryan was standing in the living room, adjusting his cuffs. He wore a navy suit, a white shirt, and a dark tie.
“I have to leave, I have a game tonight.”
“Okay.” I watched as he crouched over his bag, going through it. He looked different. Elegant. He was a big shot hockey player. I felt shy, weird. Hating how things were shifting.
“Krista called.”
My heart pounded. Maybe it was the suit, but he looked really nice right now. Rough and big but expensive. I didn’t like these feelings. It felt like I hadn’t really seen him before.
He continued. “She wants to know if you want to go to the game?”
I didn’t answer, watching as he zipped up his bag. His hands were huge.
“It’s just a pre-season game.” He glanced up, catching my stare and smiled. He was almost painfully good looking when he smiled like that. And he had the most beautiful teeth. What was going on with me? I felt mute.
He tried again, “Do I have something on my face?”
I shook my head feeling suddenly, inexplicably nervous. “No.”
“So, what should I tell Krista? You want to hang out here tonight?”
“I want to go.”
Another smile that almost knocked my socks off. My stomach weirdly pitched. When had he started smiling at me like that?
“It will be good to have someone in the crowd cheering for me.”
“I think you have lots of people cheering for you.” My voice sounded tart.
He stood up and started to text. “You know what I mean. Friends.”
Was he calling me a friend? How could I respond to that? “I’ll cheer hard.”
A smile played on his lips while he looked at his phone. “She said she’ll pick you up at 6:30 PM.”
“Okay.”
“Make sure she feeds you.”
“Good luck.”
He grunted. “We will need more than luck.”
He picked up his bag and looked back at me. “You know you’re going to be helping me put all that furniture together.”
I pointed at my sling. “Sore arm.”
He laughed. “You’re not getting off that easy.”
KRISTA SHOWED up with a jersey for me to wear. It had the name Parker on the back, and Ryan’s number on the front. Lucky for me, I could pull it over my hoodie without twisting my shoulder. She wore the same jersey, but she wore hers over a black, skin-tight pencil skirt and a pair of black stilettos.
I was in awe of the stadium, the crowds, and the music. She led us down towards the ice. We had sideline glass seats, just off to the side of the players’ benches.
“I’m starving,” she said. “So, you need to eat with me so I don’t feel guilty.”
I looked over at her. “Why would you feel guilty for eating?”
She waved at someone, who walked towards us. “Because according to my trainer, I should only eat organic grains and no trans fats and right now I am about to order fries and a burger. And a beer.”
“Technically beer is from grains.”
“I like how you think.”
Someone took our order, and then she sat back. “So, what did you guys do today?”
Everything distracted me. “We went to IKEA.”
“IKEA?” She sounded surprised. “So Ryan is finally getting you a bed?”
I watched as a mascot ran down the stairs. “It’s not for me. I’m just helping him put his guest bedroom together.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You’re his guest.”
Suddenly the lights dimmed. Electric lights flashed over the sea of fans wearing blue jerseys. And then a voice boomed over the loudspeakers. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s put a loud welcome together for your team, the Vancouver Wolves.”
“They come out over there,” Krista yelled over the throbbing music. One by one, Ryan’s team came streaming onto the ice, while the entire stadium erupted in madness. With their helmets, shoulder pads and the speed in which they skated, it felt primal. They reminded me of gladiators about to go to battle. Horns blared. People screamed, whistled, and stomped their feet. I watched as the team circled around their half of the ice. I glimpsed Ryan’s number. He looked massive as he skated with speed and grace. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him.
“And here is your starting lineup tonight,” the announcer boomed. He listed the goalie and a couple other players. When he announced Ryan, the stadium crowd deafened us with its roars.
I looked over at Krista in amazement. Her lips were moving, but I couldn’t hear her.
“What?” I yelled.
“They love him here. So much.”
My eyes traveled around the stadium. Everyone was screaming and yelling. So many fans. So much support. All for Ryan.
THE GAME ENTHRALLED ME, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off Ryan. He became a different person on the ice. He was fierce, fast, and intense. I gasped when he got checked into the boards so hard the plexiglass rattled. The skates scraping on ice, sticks slapping, the puck hitting the boards and the sheer speed and size of the players on the ice felt addictive, in a heady, surreal way.
“Hooked yet?” Krista asked.
I nodded, entranced.
She laughed. “This is just a pre-season game. Wait until the playoffs.”
I bite my lip. There was no way I would be here during the playoffs. This was all temporary.
Ryan scored. The entire place went crazy, except his teammates. No one jumped on top of him. No one gave him a high-five. He looked so alone as he skated back to the bench.
I looked up at Krista who watched him with a concerned look on her face.
“Why?” I asked.
“It’s a long story.”
“He’s so nice though. How could anyone not like him?”
She gave me a sad smile. “It’s complicated.”
