WE DROVE in complete silence through the city. Everyone loved this city, but for me, this place was wrought with danger and pain. I rarely saw the magic that other people saw in Vancouver.
Deciding to go home with this stranger was probably one of my stupidest decisions yet. Men, no matter how good they smelled or how well dressed they were, were not to be trusted.
I was just so damn tired.
The last two nights, I had worked the evening shift at my job which meant I missed getting to the shelter in time. I was functioning on almost no sleep. Tonight had just been stupidity on my part. I had stayed to help a stranger, and now I was at his mercy.
I glanced over at him. His dark hair was on the long side and his facial scruff made him look older. I estimated him to be about 28 years old. He was tall and strong looking. He was definitely good-looking, but he did nothing for me. In my experience, men were to be feared and watched. They were bigger, faster, and they never asked. Attraction never played into it when I assessed a man. All I needed to discern was their threat level. Would I pay for this reckless decision with my life? Would Mr. Charming switch to Ted Bundy the minute he got me alone?
My gut said no. He hadn’t wanted to bring me home. He was doing it because he thought he should, not because he wanted to. Plus, he hadn’t once checked out my body. When he looked at me, he had this perplexed look on his face, while his eyes moved from my hair to my piercings and then back to my hair. I wasn’t super experienced with men, but I knew enough to know he wasn’t remotely interested in me as a female. The women he went for were probably as polished and glossy as he was.
We drove to Olympic Village, and he turned into the parkade of a huge apartment complex. He scanned his fob so that the heavy metal gates clicked open. He parked and turned off the vehicle before turning to me.
“Can I see your driver’s license?”
“Excuse me?”
He looked uncomfortable. “I can’t bring you up to my place unless you’re over 18.”
Was this guy for real? “I don’t have a driver’s license.”
“Do you have any ID?”
I glared at him. “Do you?”
He laughed and then caught my expression and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. “Yeah. Sure.”
I exchanged my health card for his driver’s license.
His face was clean shaven in his ID photo, showing off a sculpted face with high cheekbones, a wide mouth, and a defined jawline. His neck was thick and muscular.
Ryan Parker. 6’4”. 220 lbs.
I inwardly shuddered. 220 lbs? I glanced over at him. He was studying my card. He looked fast and strong. Exactly the type of guy I typically avoid. I prayed that I wasn’t wrong about my assessment about him.
“You’re only 20.”
“Yeah, well, you look way older than 25.”
He looked amused. “Your name’s Zobenia Petrik.”
I snatched the card out of his hand. “No one calls me that. They call me Zoey.”
He slightly raised his eyebrows while he tucked his ID away.
“Whatever,” I said, covering my anxiety with snark. “Are we going to do this or what?”
HIS APARTMENT, for lack of a better word, was huge. It was the top floor and had floor-to-glass widows that overlooked the water. Everything about the place was fancy. Hardwood floors. Granite counter tops. Real wood cabinets.
It also looked completely un-lived in. Ten unpacked boxes sat stacked in the dining area. There was a huge TV set up in front of a long couch. An X-box and controls lay on the floor. The only other furniture were the bar stools that were tucked against the massive island in the kitchen.
“Why aren’t you unpacked yet?” I asked.
He looked up from his phone. “What?”
“You moved here in July. Why haven’t you unpacked?”
He frowned. “How do you know that?”
I rolled my eyes and took off my jacket. “I just did your tax receipts. The moving company receipt was for the middle of July. That was two months ago.”
“You remember that?”
“You could make this place nice if you tried.”
“I’ve been busy.”
Whatever. Some people didn’t appreciate what they had. Typical.
He switched gears. “What do you want to eat?”
It felt like my stomach was trying to eat itself. “Anything.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “There is this place called Burger Alley.”
Was he kidding me? That place was posh. Organic, grass-fed, healthy, fresh. Those burgers sold for a minimum of $12 each. “Yes.”
“You want baked yam fries? Or a salad?”
My mouth watered. Both, I wanted both. “Either is good.”
He dialed his phone. “Hey, this is Ryan. Thanks, man. Hey, can I have four of your deluxe burgers.” Our eyes met. “Two salads. Two yam fries. Give us the works. You know where I live.”
He tossed the phone on the counter. “Going to be about twenty minutes. Remote is on the couch. Washroom is down the hall.”
“Okay.”
He opened his wallet and tossed several twenties on the counter. “They’ll buzz. Let them in and pay them if I’m not back.”
“Where are you going?”
“I need to go make some phone calls.”
I heard his bedroom door shut and then I heard the faint sound of him talking.
I JACK-KNIFED TO A SITTING POSITION. A figure stood over me. A cry pulled out of me.
“Zoey, it’s just me. Ryan.”
Disoriented, I cowered away from his voice. Right. I was in Ryan’s apartment. On his couch. My gaze flew to his hands. They were empty. No weapons. No rope. I looked frantically around the room. No gun. Everything was like it was before.
I let myself relax a fraction. “I must have fallen asleep.”
He walked away from me. “You were out cold. The food’s here.”
I sat up slowly, dizzy. The most amazing smells filled the room. “I missed the take-out guy.”
He was standing at the island. “Doesn’t matter. I got the door. Come on. While it’s hot.”
He was unwrapping the most amazing looking burgers I had ever seen.
“Want a plate?” He turned away toward the cupboard. If I didn’t eat now, I might die. I reached forward, picked up a burger that was almost as big as my head and took a bite. I moaned as fabulous flavors exploded in my mouth. My eyes drifted shut as I savored it. This was heaven.
I opened my eyes. He stood there, watching me.
“What?” my mouth was full.
“Nothing. You like your burger?”
Was he kidding? It was to die for. This might be the best burger I have ever had in my life. I would commit a crime for this burger. “It’s okay.”
He shoved a plate in front of me and then dumped a bag of yam fries on my plate. He also pushed a salad towards me.
We ate in silence. Finally, when I could eat no more, I sat back and took a deep breath. “I love eating.”
“I can tell. There is a second burger here for you.”
I eyed it. I would dream about that uneaten burger for months to come but after my fries and my salad, I couldn’t eat another bite. My body would physically not allow it. “I can’t.”
“Can I ask you something?” he looked at me.
“You can ask. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”
“You’re homeless?”
“Yes, Captain Obvious.”
He cleared his throat and his gaze was honest. “Why don’t you get a job?”
Was this guy for real? “I have a job.”
He looked shocked. “You do?”
“Yes. I work in a restaurant.” Restaurant was a stretch. I was actually the drive-thru chick for a local fast food place.
He looked baffled.
“I make minimum wage. Even full-time, I’m lucky if I clear $1300 a month. And you can’t make rent on that and eat. So, I choose food.”
He looked genuinely horrified. “What about your family?”
“Dead. I aged out the month I turned 19.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, when I turned 19, the province set me free to take care of myself. Sink or swim.”
He stared down at the island for a long moment. “You’re obviously bright. Look at how you helped me. Why are you working at such a low-paying job?”
“You think the average person wants someone who looks like me to do their finances?”
“Well, maybe you could try to look more, uh, business casual.”
This guy was dumb as fuck. Did he think I dressed like this because I wanted to? I was 5’3” and I lived on the street. My goal was to look as tough as possible at all times. “You mean, I should get a little blonde hair cut and wear cute clothes, so that people will hire me?”
Slowly. “Yeah. I mean, it makes sense.”
I crossed my arms. “You know what happens to cute little innocent blonde chicks in a homeless shelter?”
His blue eyes widened. “Jesus. Sorry.”
“It is what it is.” I looked around his place. “What about you?”
“Just moved here. Been busy.”
“Hockey right? Vancouver Wolves?”
His eyes sharpened on my face. “How do you know that?”
“You have an athlete’s parking pass for the Aurora Stadium hanging off your rear view mirror. You had receipts from Hockey World, The Hockey Shop and Bauer Canada. And your stuff is expensive. Like your laptop and your vehicle.”
He looked uncomfortable. “I got drafted here this summer.”
I was done talking about him. “Whatever.”
“I have an early practice, so I need to sleep. Let me get you some blankets. Feel free to use the shower in the hallway. I will grab you some towels too.”
I cleaned up the kitchen, packed up the second burger in a takeout box and put it in the fridge. Maybe he wouldn’t care if I ate it tomorrow.
He dumped a stack of blankets on the couch. “Here you go.”
We stood looking at each other. “Thanks.”
“Well, goodnight.”
IT WAS STILL DARK when I woke up. To my surprise, I had the best sleep of my life. I quietly showered, folded up the bedding and then silently went through his cupboards in his kitchen. He had three boxes of protein bars. I put two bars in my bag, along with the uneaten burger, figuring he wouldn’t miss them or care.
I tried to leave but realized that he had set the alarm system. I knew enough that if I opened the door, the alarm would go off. The entire place was silent. I needed to catch a bus and get to work for the morning shift. If I didn’t leave soon, I would be late.
I debated just leaving and letting him deal with the alarm going off, but the guy had been decent. That didn’t seem fair. So, with trepidation, I headed down the hallway to his bedroom.
I knocked. No answer.
I knocked harder. Nothing.
Using my fist, I pounded on the door.
“What!?” his voice sounded muffled.
I opened the door a crack. I could make out a giant bed and a sleeping form on the bed. “I need to go to work.”
He didn’t even move. “So?”
“So, you set the alarm.”
“Sorry.” He slowly got up and then was walking towards me. I backed out and made my way to the living room. He followed. He was wearing a pair of gray sweat shorts and his hair was wild. His body looked like it belonged on a billboard. Washboard abs, bulging pecs, huge arms. The guy took care of his body.
He looked at the bedding that I had neatly folded on the end of the couch. And then took me in. Fully dressed and ready to go. “You have to work?”
“Yes.”
“Need a ride?”
“Bus is fine.”
He rubbed his face. “What time is it?”
“Just after 5 AM.”
“Want something to eat?”
A beat. “I took the burger from last night.”
He looked confused. “Yeah, sure.”
“So, thanks,” I said. “But I need to go now.”
He walked over to the kitchen and then came back with a card. He passed it to me.
“What is this?” The card was smooth. Made of expensive thick paper. His name was on the front. There was also a number.
“That is the number of my answering service. If you ever need anything, you can call that.”
A lump formed in my throat. “I’m not some stupid cling-on that is just going to keep bothering you.”
“I know.”
“You don’t have to worry about me contacting you again.”
“I get it. But you helped me yesterday. So call me if you need anything.”
In a weeks’ time, this guy wouldn’t even remember my name. “Fine.”
“Do you need some money?”
“Fuck off.”
He laughed. “You’re prickly in the morning.”
“You’re no peach yourself.”
He walked over to the door and disarmed the alarm. I picked up my bag. I stopped in front of him. He smelled like warm male and expensive soap.
“Goodbye.”
He opened the door. “Bye.”
