When Shane wanted a break from all the stardom and the ice, he went to you. With you, the TV was never on, his performance never hyper-analyzed, and he was never cold. To the world, he was Shane Hollander, Canada's star hockey player and prospect, but with you, he was just Shane.

"I don't wanna be everything to everyone," Shane mumbled, his face planted in one of the pillows atop your bed. "This brand wants this, this brand wants that, my team wants me to do more, my mom—whatever." He peeked from the pillow with the same puppy eyes he used whenever he wanted someone to throw a pity party for him.

"Seems like everyone wants you," you hummed noncommittally, squinting at the buttons on your phone, feigning disinterest. "You suck. Listen to me," he chuckled, tossing a stuffed bear at you.

He liked you, that was for sure. He liked how you didn't expect anything from him, just that he showed up. He just didn't want to ruin what he'd consider the only normalcy in his life.