Page 48 of The Boyfriend Zone

The hockey team had descended on my apartment for what was supposed to be a casual hangout—pizza, and catching up on everyone's lives outside the rink. But somewhere around the third pizza, the freshmen had suggested truth or dare, and the rest of the team had enthusiastically agreed.

Lucas, seated beside me on the couch, looked as apprehensive as I felt. It was his first time socializing with the entire team at once, and I could tell he was nervous about how they'd receive him—not just as the reporter covering their season, but as the guy their injured defenseman was dating.

"Truth," I decided, figuring it was the safer option given my limited mobility.

Jensen looked disappointed, clearly having had a physical challenge in mind. Then Zach leaned over and whispered something in his ear that made the freshman's eyes light up.

"Okay, Sean," Zach said, straightening up with that dangerous smirk I knew too well. "Here's your truth: What's your biggest secret? Something none of us know."

I felt my body tense automatically, old defenses kicking in. But then Lucas's hand found mine between us on the couch, a gentle, supportive pressure that grounded me.

I glanced at him, and he gave me a small nod—not pushing, just encouraging.

Looking around the room at my friends, I made a decision. It was time to stop hiding, to stop compartmentalizing my life into safe, separate boxes.

"Actually," I said, my voice steady despite the hammering of my heart, "there's something I've been wanting to tell you all anyway."

I stood up, feeling the weight of every eye in the room. Lucas remained seated, but I could feel his support radiating toward me like warmth.

"I'm bisexual," I stated simply. "And Lucas is here tonight not just as the guy covering our team, but as my boyfriend."

The silence that followed felt eternal, though it probably lasted only seconds. I braced myself for shock, confusion, discomfort—anything but what actually happened.

Tristan raised his beer bottle in a toast. "About damn time you made it official," he declared. "We were getting tired of pretending not to notice those heart eyes during practice."

The room erupted in laughter and supportive cheers, as if I'd announced something completely mundane rather than a truth I'd been hiding for years.

"Wait," I said, genuinely stunned by the casual acceptance. "You knew?"

"Dude," one of the sophomores chuckled, "you two aren't exactly subtle."

"Yeah," another player chimed in. "Plus, you've been happier the past few weeks than I've seen you in three years, Sean. Even with the bum shoulder."

"And Jensen might have mentioned walking in on a certain 'interview' in the locker room," Zach added with air quotes, earning him a shove from the freshman in question.

"I didn't say anything specific!" Jensen protested. "Just that there seemed to be some, uh, tension between you two."

I was speechless, overwhelmed by the easy acceptance from the people I'd been so afraid to disappoint. Lucas stood, slipping his arm around my waist in a gesture of support and solidarity.

"So you're all okay with this?" I asked, still finding it hard to believe.

"Why wouldn't we be?" Tristan shrugged. "You're still the same annoying defenseman who yells at us for sloppy passes. Who you date doesn't change that."

"My cousin's gay," one of the juniors offered. "Plays D1 soccer at UCLA. It's really not a big deal these days, man."

"Unless you start making out during practice," Zach interjected. "Then it's a problem, but only because some of us are tragically single and don't need the reminder."

"Tragically single?" Nate, who had arrived with Lucas, raised an eyebrow from his spot across the room. "That's not what you told that girl at the bar last weekend."

"Jealous, press boy?" Zach fired back, and they were off again, their unique form of flirtation disguised as verbal warfare.

As the attention shifted away from us, Lucas leaned closer. "You okay?" he murmured, his breath warm against my ear.

"Yeah," I said, realizing with surprise that it was true. "Better than okay, actually."

We rejoined the game, the moment of revelation already assimilated into the team's collective consciousness as if it had always been known. As the night progressed, I found myself watching Lucas interact with my teammates—laughing at their jokes, sharing stories from the journalism department, fitting seamlessly into this part of my life I'd been so afraid to share with him.

When the party finally wound down and people began to leave, Lucas helped me clean up despite my protests that he was a guest.

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