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 has 99 problems and Connor McDavid is... well. More of them than he thinks. In which Jack hates Connor McDavid, who he's never met, quietly pines after the cute girl he always sees in the gym, and has no idea that these two things are related.

McDavid sits back up. "Is this what your head is like all the time?" he demands. Jack shrugs. "Sometimes I think about hockey," he says.

“You kissed me the night before we got drafted,” Connor says, unbuckling Jack’s belt and making light work of yanking Jack’s jeans down to his knees. With Jack’s thighs and his penchant for tight fitting pants, it’s an impressive move. “Blew me in the men’s restroom right after dinner.” “Fuck you I did not,” Jack grunts as he lifts up his hips to help Connor strip off his boxers.

“Most of the time, curses aren’t specifically or intentionally cast,” Alex explains. “It takes a lot of supplies, and time, and energy to set a curse. Most magic carriers won’t do it; it’s not worth it.” “If it’s not a curse…” “It’s a mutated spell.”