He Shoots, She scores

Chapter Seven: Gracie | The Surname

I've been living with these boys for a few weeks now, and from what I've gathered, Wednesday nights are an important day in this household. RJ told me that every Wednesday the boys gather around the TV with their beers and watch the hockey game. It's about as traditionally masculine and stupid as it sounds. The first time I saw them cheering and yelling at the screens all while sporting their jerseys, I was intimidated, to say the least. They were so aggressive about it, shouting like their lives depended on it. I spent that night introverting in my bedroom. But I've been very conscious about putting in effort to get along with my roomies. With my last household, it just felt like we were all different people co-existing together. But this is a chance for a fresh start. Even though something is up with Weston and I have a feeling he's plotting some evil demise against me, tonight will allow for immunity. After all, you know what they say. Hockey brings people together. Or something.

The guys are already situated around the couch when I come downstairs. "Hi guys. Mind if I join?" The game has already started. Without taking their eyes off the screen, RJ and Eli immediately scooch over. I sit in between them which ends up working perfectly because then I'm far away from Weston.

Speaking of, he seems to be the only one really looking at me. His eyes are squinting like he's wondering what I'm planning. I look away, determined to just have fun tonight and enjoy myself. Even then, I still feel his stare burning a hole in the side of my head.

A mutual silence falls throughout the house. The boys invest themselves into this game while I'm secretly googling hockey rules. I know the basics- like, there's two teams and one puck. Oh, and that they're trying to score into the opposite net. Other than that, I'm lost. Everytime the referee blows their whistle and the guys around me groan, I'm just plain confused. I just mimic their energy.

I grow bored of the game quickly. Too quickly, that instead of actually watching it, I end up observing the guy's different reactions. RJ is very much a move-your-whole-body cause he's so excited person. He bounces up and down on the couch everytime his favorite team is close to scoring. Eli is the opposite. He hardly moves a single muscle throughout the whole thing unless it's to grab a drink. He's a mumbler though. I constantly hear him go "Come on, come on, come on" under his breath. Weston is neither. His attention strays from the TV to his phone quite a bit. Probably contacting his many hookups and scheduling the next booty call.

Suddenly, RJ is standing. "Weston. Switch spots with me."

Weston shuts his phone off. "What, why?"

"There's a draft here" RJ says while frowning at the ceiling. "We need to call the landlord soon. Anyway, switch spots with me."

"No." Weston won't say why, but the reason seems pretty obvious.

"Just do it!"

"I'm more comfortable here."

"SWITCH. SPOTS. WITH. ME-"

"HOLY SHIT, FINE, MOVE!"

I'm looking at Eli. "Are they always like this?"

Eli's gaze is still glued to the screen. He nods. "Get used to it" he murmurs to me. 

They do a switcheroo. Weston plants himself down next to me. His arm accidentally grazes mine, and I think he's about to pull away, but he doesn't. The room falls silent again and I cross my legs to make my body smaller. I feel disproportionately small when squeezed between these guys.

When I think nobody is noticing, I pull my phone out again to google, "What is a bar down?" But before I can read the article, Weston is angling his head next to me and muttering, "It's when the puck hits the crossbar, goes straight down, and hits the ice before entering the net."