I turn to Parker. “I bet your dad is looking down on us, so fucking happy for you.” Parker slaps his hand over my mouth. “I thought hockey players were superstitious.” I pull his hand away. “In the words of Michael Scott, I’m not superstitious, but I am a little stitious. Besides. I’m not a hockey player anymore.” “Still. Don’t jinx my team, dude.” “Aww. Dude. Team. Next thing you’ll be like Miles and Bilson calling everyone bro.” I run my hand over Parker’s neat hair and mess it up. “My little jocky dude bro.”
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