Page 46 of The Boyfriend Zone

"Yeah, you were right. Don't let it go to your head."

We fell into comfortable conversation, the easy back-and-forth that had developed between us in the weeks since my injury. Coach Barnett had been furious at first, of course—a blistering lecture about trust and team dynamics and responsibility that I'd deserved every word of. But once he'd gotten the anger out of his system, he'd shifted into making sure I followed the physical therapy plan to the letter.

The team had rallied around me in ways I hadn't expected. Tristan and Zach brought me updates from practice, treated me like I was still part of every drill, every strategy session.

And my father... well, that had been its own kind of confrontation. When he'd arrived at Grandma Rose's the day after my injury, he'd been predictably furious—not at the injury itself, but at my "lack of foresight" in hiding it until it became something serious.

"What were you thinking?" he'd demanded. "Playing through this kind of injury? You could have ended your career before it even started!"

"I was thinking I couldn't disappoint you," I'd fired back, the pain and medication making me braver than usual. "That anything less than perfect wasn't good enough."

That had stopped him cold. For perhaps the first time in my life, I'd seen something like regret in my father's eyes. We hadn't magically resolved years of complicated dynamics in one conversation, but it had been a start—an acknowledgment that the pressure he'd put on me had consequences neither of us had intended.

"Sean? Earth to Sean," Lucas waved his hand in front of my face, pulling me from my thoughts. "Where'd you go?"

"Sorry," I smiled sheepishly. "Just thinking about how much has changed in a few weeks."

"Speaking of which," Lucas gestured toward the door, "looks like some of those changes are headed our way."

I turned to see Zach entering the coffee shop, followed by Nate. They hadn't noticed us yet, too absorbed in whatever Zach was saying that had Nate rolling his eyes dramatically.

"Should we rescue Nate?" I suggested, amused by the familiar dynamic between them.

"I'm not sure who needs rescuing from whom," Lucas replied with a grin. "But let's find out."

I raised my good arm, waving to catch their attention. Zach spotted us first, his face lighting up with a mischievous grin that usually meant trouble.

"Well, well," he drawled as they approached our table. "If it isn't the campus power couple, caught in the wild."

I felt my cheeks warm. "Shut up, Zach."

"What?" He clutched his chest in mock innocence. "I'm just stating facts. You two are all anyone talks about in the locker room these days."

"Great," I groaned, though there was no real annoyance behind it.

"Pull up chairs," Lucas invited, seemingly unfazed by Zach's teasing. "We were just discussing the hard-hitting journalistic masterpiece I published this morning."

"Oh, the one about athletes being stubborn idiots who don't know when to admit they're hurt?" Nate asked innocently. "I can't imagine where you got inspiration for that."

"Ha ha," I deadpanned. "You're hilarious."

"I try," Nate winked, dragging over a chair from a nearby table.

As they settled in, I noticed the careful distance Nate maintained from Zach, despite the obvious tension crackling between them whenever their eyes met.

"So," Lucas asked casually, "are you two on a date, or...?"

Nate choked on the sip of coffee he'd just taken. "What? No! We just keep running into each other. The campus is only so big."

"Right," Zach smirked. "Pure coincidence that we end up at the same coffee shop at the same time three days in a row."

"It's the closest one to the journalism building," Nate pointed out, a flush creeping up his neck that had nothing to do with the hot drink.

"And the furthest from the athletic complex," Zach countered. "Face it, press boy, you secretly wish we were dating."

"In your dreams, hockey goon," Nate fired back, though there was a spark in his eyes that belied the harshness of his words. "Some of us have standards."

"Standards, huh?" Zach leaned forward, his smile predatory. "Is that why you've saved every text I've sent you? Tristan saw you scrolling through them before practice yesterday."

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