Beep. Beep. Beep.

"God fucking dammit!", I groan and feel around for my phone on the bedside table. After my fantastic first impression on Tuukka, I completely forgot to turn off my 5AM alarm I had set the day before when I flew out to Boston. Ah fuck, only four hours of floor. Fantastic. Sleepily, I rub my eyes and pull a pair of BC sweats on and tromp down the stairs, pulling my hair into a really messy and kinda crappy bun. I really need to get a haircut soon. As I descend into the kitchen, five heads turn towards me.

"What? Is there something on my face?", I give them a quizzical face and waltz over to the coffee maker, pouring myself a giant cup of coffee. Black, like my soul.

"No... But you look like quite a ray of sunshine!", Torey places a plate of eggs with toast in front of me. I roll my eyes and down my cup of coffee.

"Whose girl are you?", the shortest guy that I didn't see last night says. Tyler, Tuukka, and Dougie all snicker from the couch and Torey tries unsuccessfully to hide his smile.

"Hun, I'm your goalie so y'all better watch out because I sure as hell can fuck with your plus/minus average", I embellish the statement with a southern accent. The guy's face turns from cocky to fearful. All the guys start laughing at his face.

"Dude I'm just kidding! I'm not even southern!", I quickly assure the guy, I can't even finish the sentence without laughing.

"Marchy, you shoulda seen your face!", Torey says while cracking up and leaning against the fridge for support after his laugh attack. Brad glares at him and grabs his glass of milk from the counter, mumbling profanities under his breath as he sips his milk.

"Sorry bout that Marchy! I'm Jesse and I couldn't resist messing with you", I giggle and finish up my food. Brad nods at me and gives me the universal 'It's okay' look. I bus my plate, yes I have manners unlike most people in this house. My point is proven by several belches from the living room. Boys, can't help themselves these days.

"Jess, we have morning skate in a few hours", Dougie says, now in the kitchen.

"Gotcha, I'll go get my crap together", I reply and make the climb to my room, where I find a towel thrown on my bed and make my way to the only bathroom with a shower. Unfortunately, I have to share a bathroom with five guys. This is gonna be an adventure. I hear the shower on and faint singing. I feel bad for whoever is in there, I have quite some dirt on them now.

"Hey princess, other people have to shower too!", I bang on the door with my fist and shout. The singing stops almost immediately and the water shuts off.

"Who is it?", someone yells from inside the locked door. It takes me a few seconds to put the voice with the name, but we have a Tyler Seguin singing in the shower.

"Jesse, and Ty as much as I love your singing, I actually need to bathe", I reply, laughing at my discovery. Who wouldn't be laughing? Oh I've got him good.

"Shit sorry I'm getting out!", I hear him mutter. After a few loud bumps, the door clicks open and a half naked Tyler full out sprints across the hall and locks the door of his room. I shake my head and lock the bathroom door, you can never be too sure with boys. I'm not taking ANY chances. Hot water feels heavenly as I wash my hair and just stand under the water because I like the warmth. Don't judge, you probably do it too!

Without having someone yell at me to get out, I shut the water off and wrap a towel around my chest, slowly unlocking the door and sprinting, as Tyler did, straight to my room and I lock the door for safety precautions. Again, living with boys is like walking a fine line between siblings and boyfriends.

After getting my self proclaimed 'hockey outfit', which consists of an underarmour shirt, spandex shorts, a hoodie and sweats, I sigh and yank my gigantic hockey bag out of the pile of bags in the corner of my room.

"God I hate organizing", I mutter and zip open my bag, pulling out everything. My grumbling is ironic because I'm wicked OCD and love organizing, but have you ever smelled a hockey goalie bag full of semi sweaty gear? It smells like something curled up and died in there, yeah you wouldn't want to clean it either.

About an hour into my 'cleaning', I hear a faint yell from downstairs.

"Yeah?", I yell out the open door, too lazy to get up and walk downstairs.

"We're leaving in ten minutes", Tuukka shouts back. I groan and somewhat quickly throw everything back into my bag. Muttering to myself, I walk around the room making last minute checks on what I have. Hair bands? Check. Socks? Check. Deodorant? Check.

"Need some help with that?", Tuukka eyes my colossal bag that I have slung over a shoulder. I shake my head and walk out the open front door, tossing my bag into the bed of my truck.

"Jess, we're taking my car", Tuukka gestures to his own very nice car. My dirty truck is nothing compared to his fancy shmancy SUV.

"What? My truck isn't clean enough for you?", I say, faking offense as I fish my bag out of the back and throw it into the SUV.

"Nah, this just makes driving places easier", he replies, starting the engine and backing out of the driveway.

After a ten minute(ish) drive, we finally pull into the players parking garage of The Garden. The drive wasn't too bad, Tuukka and I just talked about stuff, y'know non hockey stuff. It doesn't hurt that he's pretty damn good looking and actually really nice and friendly.

"And here is our newest goaltender, Jesse Williams!", I walk into the locker room to have Claude announce my name at that moment. A chorus of "Hi Jesse" and "Hi Jess"'s erupt from around the large locker room.

"Hi, nice to meet y'all!", I say back politely. I'm awkward as hell, social interaction on a mass scale isn't my forte.

A minute or two after I start unpacking my bag, one of the equipment staff comes over and starts to organize my gear on the shelves and hooks behind me. Uneasily, I sit back and watch. It's their job and as much as I hate other people touching my gear, I have to let them do their job. Ugh I hate being polite sometimes.

"Thanks, I'm Jesse", I extend my hand to the guy after he finally finishes touching my gear.

"Jack, I've heard great things about you Jesse", he shakes my hand and goes off to go help Milan Lucic with his sticks or something like that.

As quickly as humanly possible, I pull off my sweat and hoodie and put all my gear on. I probably set some record or something, fastest goalie gear getting on time. Upon pulling my special B's practice jersey on and securing my large mass of hair in a French braid, I grab my helmet and stick and join the team on the ice. Conditioning drills, ew.

---

"What the hell is on your helmet?", I turn to face a laughing Tuukka leaning against the bench, water in hand.

Oh right, my special helmet. I have the logo of my high school team on the right side, the Bruins logo on the top, and the Montreal Stars logo on the left side. The base color of my mask is black and Jesse is written in script under the cage.

"Logos and a bit of sentiment, you're the one with the crazyass bear cat on it", I shoot back, laughing as well. God he's hot. Claude blows the whistle and we all quickly skate to the spoked B. Claude has an evil grin stuck to his face.

"I have a little game for our goalies, shootout battle. Winning goalie gets bragging rights for a week and the shooter with the winning goal gets to lead the team out onto the ice tonight versus Montréal. Show us what you got goalies!", Claude dramatically points to both nets and Tuukka and I get in our respective nets.

I'm getting shot on first, Patrice Bergeron. He goes five hole and I deny him the pleasure of scoring on a rookie. Tuukka goes unscathed as well. The brick walls on either end of the ice stand strong until Round 15, my buddy Brad is shooting. He quickly approaches me, dangles, and slides it by my left pad. I, as a short flexible person, reach 180 degrees around myself and knock the puck off the goal line with my paddle. A collective "oooooooooooo" can be heard from the bench.

"Nice save man", Brad skates by and taps my back with his stick. I smile from under the mask.

"Thanks, score on Tuukk, it'll get him so pissed off", I say devilishly.

"My pleasure", Brad replies with a smug smile and takes off, nearing the goal. He dekes and goes backhand five hole. No save from the Rask Master.

"I WIN!", I yells, celebrating on my end of the ice. The team, full of smiles, joins me and all tap me on the head because I'm so short.

"Jess is the winning goalie, so you have the bragging rights and Marchy leads us out onto the ice tonight. Good work everyone, game is at 7:30 so be here at 5", Claude says. "Now shoo, go change!"

---

"Hey", someone says from behind me, spooking the shit out of me. I jump and turn around to smack whoever just scared me, but all I find is a very smug Tuukka.

"Jesus Christ, don't do that!", I playfully swat him. "So what's up?"

"Well I was wondering if y'know you could not use those bragging rights if I would take you out to lunch?", he folds his hands and actually looks nervous. Wait, is he asking me out?

"What are you implying Mr. Rask?", I say, leaning against the wall. Stay cool, act cool, he's probably just asking if you want takeout.

"Are you really gonna make me say it?"

"Yep."

"Jeez Jess, will you go out to lunch with me today? Happy?", he scowls at me. I turn tomato red and stare at the ground.

"Yes and very", I smile, most of my tomatoness gone.

"Lead the way Ms. Williams", he gestures grandly to the hallway. I roll my eyes at his antics and walk down the hall. This is going to be interesting.

Notes

Hi guys, I know its about time I updated!