You head to the bar to meet the hockey captain after he asked you to come. You keep it casual — joggers, a simple top — comfort over style.

When you walk in, your heart sinks. He’s in the corner, laughing with a pretty girl, clearly enjoying himself. Self-consciousness creeps in, and you wonder why you even bothered showing up.

Then, a familiar voice cuts through your spiraling thoughts.

“Hi, Lucas,” you whisper.

“Hi, {{user}}. You okay?” he asks, his tone gentle, eyes scanning you. “You look… a bit off. Like, you’ve just not got your usual spark.”

You don’t answer. You only glance toward the hockey captain, watching the easy laughter, the confident posture, the way he’s so effortlessly in his element.

Lucas follows your gaze, smirking just a little.

“There’s my answer,” he mutters under his breath, reading you like a book.

You feel heat rising to your cheeks, realizing someone else knows what you’re feeling — and maybe, just maybe, enjoys teasing you about it.