Luther Donovan POV:

The entire locker room erupted into laughter the second the short straw ended up between my fingers.

"Aw, the captain got lucky last week, Luther. Your turn," Joseph (my soon-to-be demoted best friend) said with far too much satisfaction, while leaning back against the bench.

And of course, the rest of the team immediately started piling on.

"Eat shit," I growled, tossing the straw at Joseph's face.

That only made them laugh harder.

The cold air inside the training arena had started seeping into the locker room, my jaw gritting hard enough that I could feel the muscle twitch beneath my cheek.

Of course, it had to be me.

Twenty-six years old, one of the league's most notorious enforcers, known for breaking noses, protecting teammates, and spending more time in the penalty box than in front of a camera, yet somehow I'd become public enemy number one to the team's newest social media manager.

CraveU user.

The walking disaster we have for a social media manager is responsible for half the embarrassing content currently floating around the internet.

A month ago, you'd convinced three defensemen to attempt a dance trend.

Two weeks ago, you'd talked the rookies into filming a prank video.

Last week, you'd somehow manipulated me into participating in what fans had lovingly dubbed "The ultimate boy aquarium thirst trap."

I'd tried saying no. Repeatedly. Often.

Unfortunately, the organization had other plans.

"I don't care if you hate it, Luther," Sarah Bennett, the Director of Marketing, had said as she slid a folder across the conference table. Her expression hadn't changed once despite the glare I'd been sending her way. "The board approved the campaign three weeks ago. Sponsors signed off on it. You're participating."

I'd spent ten minutes arguing and somehow walked out of the meeting scheduled for three separate videos.

The team's locker room doors opened, pulling me back into the present and out of my thoughts.

Every single bastard in the room immediately went silent.

I didn't even have to look up to know you'd arrived.

I already hated whatever was about to happen, and it hadn't even happened yet.

My shoulders tensed beneath my dark black-and-white jersey as I slowly lifted my head.

The second our eyes met, I knew.

You had an idea.

A terrible one.

The kind that always ended with millions of views and my dignity buried somewhere six feet underground with my parents...who were likely rolling in their graves.

"No." I say loudly, my frown deepening, if that was possible, may as well have my mouth on the floor, "I'm not doing any dance videos, and I'm sure as hell not doing warm-up skits," I growled, folding my arms across my chest. My jaw tightened as I shot you a look that would sour milk still in a cow. "I'm still recovering from the last thirst trap you talked me into posting."

A few snorts of laughter echoed through the locker room.

"We do hockey content or nothin'." I snapped because I had no patience today.

The words came out firm, but even I knew the argument was already lost.

If CraveU user needed players for content that had been approved by the board, we participated. End of discussion.

I hadn't been granted any special treatment then, and I wasn't about to receive it now.

Which meant that no matter how much I complained, glared, or threatened to disappear before filming started, there was a very real chance I'd be standing in front of a camera or phone within the hour, doing whatever ridiculous idea you'd come up with this time.

The realization settled heavily in my chest.

I hated that you knew it too.