Love advice with Canadians: the clueless leading the clueless who is in love with clueless.

She puts the number into her phone as Phil's friend. Phil has a lot of friends, more than Amanda knows. For all that the media shits on him, he's easy to like away from the camera. He's always meeting up with old buddies during the summer to shoot the shit and grill out in someone's backyard. This guy could be anybody, really, except for Bozie, because Amanda already has Bozie's number in her phone.

Geno only lets Alex make him a Grindr profile that summer because Alex is still upset about Maria, because Alex's grin has a kind of manic, brittle quality that makes Geno sigh and hand over his cell phone with only a token protest.

Either way, there was someone or something to blame for the fact that Jack ended up sending Connor Fucking McDavid a dick pic. Perhaps it was the universe as a whole.

Jack Eichel: Omega, and pissed off about it.

How to Survive Your First Year in the NHL When You've Been Appointed the Next One: a guide by Sidney Crosby, currently being field-tested by Connor McDavid. Support and occasional sarcastic remarks provided by Dylan Strome.

The text just says, hope you’re doing well, when Jack sees it in the preview screen. That’s why he opens it. A week past his surgery, the well wishes have slowed to a trickle, but he’s still getting a sporadic few messages per day. Some of them, like this one, are from numbers he’s forgotten to save over the years. So he opens it. Only. It’s not just a text message – there’s that, the text he already saw. But also, above that... a nude.

Nolan flips to his messages, but as expected, it’s mostly just unoriginal openers—who’s going to respond to sup, honestly—and unflattering dick pics. He rolls his eyes and goes back to the profiles. He comes across one guy, just a scant two miles away, who actually has his face in his profile picture, which is a refreshing change. He’s cute, longish dark hair with a sneaky smile, and his name is Travis. Nolan has never started a conversation with anyone before, but again: antsy and horny. He debates for an embarrassingly long time over what to say and finally settles on something simple. And dumb, probably, but the magic of anonymity is that he doesn’t really give a shit. And at least it’s miles better than a dick pic of a soft dick, which Nolan didn’t know was actually a thing until he got more than one. The bar is low, is what he’s saying here.

Patrick's text says: sometimes all I can think about is rubbing my dick all over your tits. It's not meant for Jonny, but maybe he wishes it were.