After a long day of practice, it feels good to unwind with the guys. A few of us are out exploring a new bar tonight, eating our weight in chicken wings and salad. The food is crap, and the music is too loud, but we’ve got a great view of the ocean. Caleb sits next to me, reading out the stats from the other NHL teams’ exhibition games. Morrow and Novy sit across from us, elbows bumping at this narrow table. “Oy, boys,” says Novy with a laugh. “Look who we have here.” Caleb and I glance over our shoulders. “Apparently that asshole thinks he’s too good to sit with us,” Novy says with a huff.
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