pov you're quinn hughes the night before the asg 2024 draft and at the exact same moment your brother is linking with a pop star who will one day be his ex-gf, and michael bublΓ© is taking a multivitamin that he will soon learn is actually psilocybin mushrooms, matthew tkachuk says bun in the oven for the second time in ten minutes and you go, why do you keep saying that, and brady says dude to matthew and then takes his arm back from around your shoulders and you're like, what, and brady's like, uhhhh. so me and emma are expecting. and you start to say expecting what and brady opens his mouth and then it hits you and you jerk back and you're like, oh. whoa, that's, uh. congratulations.
and you're not the steadiest on your feet because you've had 4 of whatever brady's drinking, which is IPAs, which you hate. but brady always knows what the right and normal thing to order is. so you tell them you're gonna go piss, and as you're looking for the bathroom you hear matthew go, what? and brady goes, we're not telling people yet, fucker, it's too early. and you stand at the urinal reassuring yourself that you're doing SUCH a good job of hiding it and pretending that you have nooo hard feelings about what went down between you and brady. which was nothing!! nothing even really happened. nothing that mattered. obviously it didn't matter to him, and it was never going to be what you wanted it to be. and you knew it didn't matter to him so you have no one to blame but yourself for how much it mattered to you, and it's creepy and pathetic that it still matters to you even after you were in his wedding party. and [well. it's pov quinn so pretend you don't understand this reference. but your spirit knows the choreography perfectly] you have a little emma thompson both sides now love actually moment with one of those very luxurious paper towels that feels like cloth. and you come back to the table and say, very brightly, i'm gonna head up to bed, and brady goes, i'm still going first tomorrow, right, quinn? and you go, yeah. for sure.
and then you take care of the tab for the table and go up to your hotel room and open the adjoining door between your room and jack's, ready to bust open your [jack's] spreadsheet and be like, change of plans, fuck loyalty, we're not taking brady first. except jack's room is empty which must mean that he's at chez mcrae. and you're like god i guess everyone cares more about sex than winning except me!! it seems like everybody wants to fuck popstars and/or their wife and nobody wants to win anymore. and at the exact same moment that michael bublΓ© starts to feel a little funny, you open tiktok and scroll two videos down and there's a video tagged #selfimprovement #nofap #menshealth and well? the rest is history.
