Later that night, I found myself sitting on a couch between Patrick Sharp and Adam Burish with my second round of drinks. Patrick's hand was on my thigh and I was resting on him. One of the guys had popped in a movie - Fight Club - and we were all nestled in to view it. The lights were off and everyone shone pale in the glow of the television.

Howard left shortly after I arrived so I was left to fend for myself when dealing with the boys. I was use to hanging with hockey boys, having spent most of my life in an ice rink. Sure, at first me being alone with the Chicago Blackhawks was an awkward experience, but after thirty minutes it was all good.

The movie was going, Brad Pitt and Edward Norton were in Lou's basement hosting their fight club. Both men had their shirts off, sweat glistened over their muscular bodies, I squirmed in my seat, letting out a long sigh.

"What," asked Patrick from my right.

"It's a girl thing, you wouldn't understand."

"Try us," said Adam with a smile.

"It's just.... The two of them just standing there with their shirts off, with their big muscles and gleaming with sweat. It's just all of their hot manliness is over whelming me."

"Oh my god," said Ben Eager who sat in a Lay-Z-Boy chair off to the side.

"Sorry I find guys attractive?"

The guys laughed and we continued to watch the movie.... That is until Adam had to make a comment.

"So if you like hot sweaty guys... do you like hockey players?"

"Well... you all do qualify as hot sweaty guys."

"So if, for example, I finished practice one day and took off my gear, showing off all of my sweaty muscular manliness, would you act upon these feelings?"

"Oh...." I drew in air between my teeth, "Shoot Adam.... I'm sorry. I only date hot sweaty guys with muscles," cue group chuckling from everyone except me and Adam, although it was very hard to not smile, "And besides, you have a weak jaw line."

"Where did the jaw come from," asked Niklas Hjalmarsson.

"The jaw is everything."

"Really?"

"Yeah. A girl enjoys kissing up a good strong, masculine jaw line."

"And that's where we go back to the movie," said Cristobal Huet, his French accent bringing a smile to my face. Turning our attention back to the movie, our group remained silent.

With the soft glow of the TV and the darkness of the room the alcohol in my system decided it would be a good time to fall asleep. With my eyes drooping, my head fell onto Patrick's shoulder, snuggling into him to get comfortable. As I drifted, I felt him shift underneath me, moving so I was lying on something flat. My eyes opened slightly to the image of me laying on his chest. My mind told me that I should getup, but my body couldn't muster up the energy it needed to even sit up. So giving up, I let my body shut down.


In the morning, I woke up in a place I was not familiar with, on a couch I was not familiar with, and on a male's chest. I moved my arms and legs softly and was relieved to feel fabric covering my body. Raising my hand to my eyes, I wiped the sleep away, fully waking up.

"Good morning," a voice said, the sound rumbling inside the chest.

Looking up, I saw the handsome face of Patrick Sharp and instantly tensed up, "Um... good morning." A moment of silence came before I said, "What happened last night?"

"You got drunk and we had hot sloppy sex in front of everyone."

"The drunk no. Tipsy maybe," I said, rubbing my temples, "And the sex part not too much."

Patrick chuckled, bouncing me in the process. When he stopped, there was another awkward silence between us. The moment grew more awkward when Patrick moved his hand to my lower back, the blanket still around my shoulder. Under any other situation I would have moved or told him to fuck off but my mind was still groggy from waking up, so I settled for putting my head back on his chest.

It was then as I lay there that I smelled breakfast. French toast, eggs, and coffee filtered through the open door filling the air with stomach rumbling goodness. The smell of the coffee alone was enough to wake me up a little. Raising my head, I shifted my weight to my left, trying to find a way to get up.

"Do you need help?" Patrick moved his hands to my waist.

"Yeah.... If you could squeeze to the couch?"

"Sure." Patrick moved under me in one direction while I moved the opposite way. I almost made it to the cleared side of the couch when I lost my balance and fell onto the floor, "Are you okay?"

My body ached from the shocking force of the fall, "Give me a moment."

Getting off the couch, Patrick helped me get up and stood by me as my newly awakened body recovered. My back was the worst of the jolting pain, being that it was the one that hit the floor. Awesome. Rubbing my back, the pain went away instantly.

"I'm okay," I said, seeing Patrick still standing next to me.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Everything is always especially tender in the morning. Your body hasn't fully awakened yet."

"Oh."

"Who's cooking?"

"Probably Hjalmarsson. It's his place."

"Touche."

Patrick smiled and together we shuffled in the direction of the kitchen. As we entered we found Niklas Hjalmarsson cooking a large pan of scrambled eggs next to a skillet covered with French toast. I fought back a giggle as I saw the "Kiss the Cook" apron hanging from his neck. Patrick's shoulders shook with silent laughter next to me. It was weird to think that I was in a house with hockey players. It was even weirder to know that they all played for the Chicago Blackhawks.

My eyes landed on the coffee pot with several mugs sitting next to it. The fumes from the pot called my name, drawing me into it's bitter deliciousness. I made my way to the pot and grabbed one of the large coffee mugs pouring the dark liquid into it. The aroma wafted through the air with a new wave of awesome, making me smile as I in hailed. Putting the bot back I leaned against the counter and took the first sip. It was strong but delicious.

"You're a coffee drinker," asked Niklas, smiling at me from the stove.

"Yes, I love coffee."

"I made this special pot for all of you Canadians and Americans. You're coffee is so watered down."

"Oh yeah that's right. You Europeans like your coffee strong."

"The way you drink your coffee is like water with a hint of flavor."

"So while you two duke it out for World's Best Cup o' Joe, I want some good ol' American coffee." Patrick reached behind me for one of the mugs, the movement putting his body very close to mine. I had a sudden urge to run my lips along the clothed shoulder blade in front of me. When he moved to the coffee I had to shake my head to rid myself of the random thoughts.

"So how many stayed over," I asked taking another sip, "I mean, I know hockey players eat a lot but... that's a lot."

"Adam, Eager, and Brouwer." Niklas said moving all of the food from the pans to plates. He turned the stove off and moved the plates to the table, "You two can start eating."

A pile of plates were already stacked on the table ready to be used. I moved first and sat down at the table, grabbing a plate as I went. Forks and knives were on the table as well; taking a pair, I scooped up some eggs and toast onto my plate. Patrick followed suit.

"You don't think I'll be in any trouble, do you," I asks as I set the silver ware down and grabbed my cup again, "I mean, the new photographer spending the night in a house full of guys?"

"Naw," Hjalmarsson said, "And if any questions do come up, I'll just tell them I didn't feel comfortable with my teammates driving home drunk."

"But others did go home."

"They had all car pooled. They went home in cabs."

"Oh."

"You, Burs, and Eags were the only ones who drove."

"Why is Patrick here?"

"You fell asleep on me," he replied smiling, "I couldn't move."

A blush burned my cheeks, "Yeah, sorry about that."

"It's no problem."

"You could have pushed me off."

"And let you sleep on Adam? No way."

"What's wrong with sleeping on me?" Adam came into the kitchen wearing a pair of long pants and no shirt.

"Good morning," I said smiling.

"Hey! She's still here!" Adam smiled at me before going over to the coffee.

"Well of course I'm still here. Free coffee and food." the guys laughed and I cut out a piece of the French toast.

The rest of the guys woke up later all of us fitting into the kitchen talking and laughing. Then my phone went off. Excusing myself, I went into the other room to answer it.

"Hey Howard, whats up?"

"You never came home last night."

My heart stopped, "I can explain."

"Kaycie, I got you this job as a favor to you. You are a talented young woman who wouldn't have gotten anywhere if you stayed with your school. Don't go and throw away this opportunity by sleeping around with hockey players."

"Howard, please, let me explain!"

There was a brief pause, "Fine."

"Several us were drinking last night."

"Kaycie-"

"None of us were drunk, Howard. We had two drinks each tops."

"Kaycie."

"Niklas thought we were in no condition to drive home, saying 'buzzed driving is drunk driving' and forced me, Patrick, Adam, Ben, and Troy to stay over. And yes, I stayed alone in a guest room."

There was a moment of silence, then, "Let me talk to Hjalmarsson."

Getting up I went to the kitchen and handed Niklas my cell phone. As he left the room I mentally kicked myself.

"What's wrong?" Patrick stood up and came over to me.

"Howard doesn't believe our story," I said, "He thinks I'm using my opportunity to sleep around with famous athletes." Tears filled my eyes, "I'm going to loose my job."

"You're not going to loose your job," Patrick said, putting his hands on my shoulders, "Not if we can help it."

"Thanks."

Niklas came back in and handed me my phone, "You get to keep your job, but no more random nights. Even if you're drunk."

I sighed and took my phone back, "So what fun stuff are you boys doing today?"

"Well, I'm going to be filming my One Goal commercial today," said Niklas, "It's going to be sweet!"

"We're not doing anything," said Patrick, "We don't play again until tomorrow."

"I think I'll tag along with Hjalmarsson and take pictures of you filming your commercial then load the pics from last night onto my computer."

"Are there any good shots?" Asked Ben.

"Yeah, some good action shots anyways."

"Well, yeah of course."

"I have an awesome shot of Fraiser punching one of the Blues square in the jaw!"

The boys laughed and then my phone went off. I had a text saying that I was to go with Hjalmarsson to his shoot. I responded and said good bye to the boys. I went back to my apartment and showered slowly. Waking on top of Patrick Sharp was not something my mind could easily forget.