5.

Lori

My anxiety was not just because of Lucas. It was because of the person sitting on the opposite side of the stadium.

I looked up at the special seating section reserved for varsity athletes. Travis sat right in the middle of his fraternity brothers. He wore his black football jacket. He looked good, but he was not watching the hockey game. He was leaning down, his head bent close to Elena. She sat a row below him in her full cheerleading uniform.

Elena laughed at something he whispered. She threw her head back, her fingers brushing against his knee.

A physical ache hit me right in the chest. For half a year, Travis hid me from everyone. He treated me like a dirty secret. Now, here he was openly flirting with another girl. He did not care that we broke up less than twenty four hours ago. He was already showing her off to the world.

"Hey," Jessica’s voice interrupted my thoughts. "Don’t look at that asshole. He will know he is getting to you."

"He's not getting to me," I lied. My throat felt tight. "I'm just angry."

"Good. Stay angry," Jessica said, handing me her binoculars. "Look at something worth your time. Go find Miller. He is about to take the face-off."

I lifted the lenses to my eyes. I scanned past the referees and the opposing team. Finally, I locked onto the giant number 97 jersey. Lucas was gliding backward across the ice, his skates leaving deep lines in the white surface.

I tilted the lenses up to his face. He wore his helmet, his features hidden behind the dark metal cage.

My breath caught. Lucas was not watching the puck. He had his head turned completely toward my section. Through the heavy magnification, it felt like he was standing right next to me.

He slowly smirked. The dark look matched the one he gave me last night. I quickly pulled the binoculars away, my heart beating fast.

The referee dropped the black puck. Lucas did not play like the other guys. He moved with a scary, fast speed, slicing through the defense like a sharp blade. There was a raw hunger in the way he chased the puck. It was a cold, mean style of play. This was the exact same man who had held my wrists down last night.

With less than two minutes left, Lucas intercepted a bad pass. He exploded down the ice. The opposing goalie slid across the net, but Lucas was too fast. With a hard flick of his wrist, he slammed the puck into the top corner of the goal.

The loud siren wailed. The stadium went completely crazy. Students were screaming his name over and over. Jessica was jumping up and down, yelling at the top of her lungs.

But the celebration did not last long.

An opposing player came speeding in from behind Lucas. He slammed his heavy stick directly into Lucas’s lower back, throwing him violently against the glass right in front of our row.

"Oh my god!" Jessica gasped.

Before I could process the hit, the player grabbed Lucas’s jersey collar. He forcefully ripped off Lucas's helmet and landed a hard punch to his jaw.

A sharp wave of panic hit me. My hands gripped the cold metal railing until my knuckles turned white. Watching someone hurt him made my blood run cold.

Lucas’s head snapped back. A line of bright red blood appeared at the corner of his mouth. But he did not fall. He wiped the blood away with his glove and let out a dark laugh. Lucas pushed the referee away with one hand, grabbed the player by his shirt, and unleashed a brutal attack.

Lucas threw three hard punches. Each one hit with a sickening sound until the player fell onto the ice, holding his bloody face. The referees forced Lucas toward the penalty box. His breathing was heavy, and he looked like a wild animal.

As they dragged him away, he snapped his head around. He locked his eyes right back onto me.

“Oh my gosh,” Jessica cried beside me. "He is an absolute animal. Whoever goes home with him tonight is going to get completely ruined."

I swallowed hard. The memory of his heavy hands pressing into my hips came back instantly. As I watched Lucas spit blood onto the ice without taking his eyes off me, a terrifying realization hit me.

I was already caught in his trap. And he was nowhere near done with me.