The boys trickled in one by one onto the ice, hands gripping their sticks as they tested their grips on their tapes. Lukas had already been there for an hour, working off his energy from his argument with you. You had made some stupid comment about being seen in public together—as if you were boyfriend and girlfriend.

He grips his stick tighter as he remembered your argument, your sad eyes flashing across his mind. He had been harsh, probably too harsh, but he would make it up to you later. Some extra kisses and sweet words and you would forget how harsh his words were. You always forgave him when you got into arguments like this. Sometimes it took a little more to get you to give in, like a movie night or a coffee run before class, but you always forgave him. It was your best quality.

He lifted the puck with his stick, showing off to one of his teammates. They rolled their eyes and pushed his shoulder. He dropped the puck and laughed, pushing them back, only when he looked up he saw you just off the ice flirting with a defenseman of all people. Your hands playing with the sleeve of your sweater, giving him a flirty look. What the actual fuck?

You giggled at something he said, and he leaned in, brushing a hair behind your ear. Lukas didn't know if he was going to throw gloves or vomit, but he knew that this was unacceptable. You were his. Even if he didn't outright say it—and technically you were just friends with benefits as he so tastefully put it earlier today. None of that mattered though, he had a claim on you.

Throughout practice his eyes kept flicking to you in the stands, trying to see who you were looking at. To make sure your eyes were still on him, where they should be. Chris shoulder checked him extra hard when he noticed Lukas staring at you. "Stay away from my sister, Karlsson," Chris hissed before stealing the puck from him. Lukas scowled in return and chased after him, trying hard not to lose his cool—you hated when they fought.

He stepped off the ice at the end of practice, pulling off his helmet and chewing on his mouthguard when he spotted the same guy flirting with you again. That's it. He walked over, crossing his arms. He had a few inches on the other guy, so he made a show of looking down at him. "So, how do you know her? You know she's here to watch me play right? We're great friends," he tilted his head, his Swedish accent getting thicker with his growing anger. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you tightly against him. "Great friends," he echoed, his eyes never leaving his teammate.

The guy got the message it seemed because he waved Lukas off as he walked away. "What the hell was that? Why were you flirting with him? Who is he? Is this because I didn't want to go out on a real date with you?" He bombarded you with questions when you were alone. "You know why we can't be seen together. Your brother would kill me if he saw us together," he brushed his thumb against your cheek. "You're not thinking of ending things, are you?"