Page 53 of The Boyfriend Zone

"One of the nicer away venues," Sean agreed. "Though the ice is always too soft, and their locker rooms smell like fifty years of hockey gear."

I laughed. "Such a romantic, painting these vivid pictures."

"Hey, I'm just giving you the insider scoop," Sean grinned. "Isn't that what you reporters are always after?"

"Among other things," I admitted, squeezing his hand.

We walked in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying the relative solitude after the chaos of team dinner.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Sean asked as we paused by the lake's edge.

"I was just thinking about how nervous I was to come on this trip," I confessed. "Wondering if I'd be seen as just the reporter tagging along, or worse, the reporter who's dating one of the players."

"And now?"

I turned to face him, taking in the way the moonlight caught his eyes. "Now I'm just glad to be here with you. It feels right, somehow."

"It does," Sean agreed softly, his free hand coming up to cup my cheek. "I was worried too, you know. About coming on this trip when I can't play. Thought I'd be a distraction or feel left out. But being here, supporting the guys, having you with me... it's good."

I leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth of his palm against my skin in the cool night air. Then his lips were on mine, soft and searching, his arm sliding around my waist to pull me closer. I responded eagerly, my own arms circling his neck, careful to avoid his right shoulder even as I pressed against him.

The kiss deepened, and I lost myself in the sensation of being held by him, of the slight peppermint taste from his after-dinner candy, of the solid strength of his body against mine. It was still new enough to be thrilling, familiar enough to feel right.

"Hey lovebirds!" a voice called, startling us apart. "Coach says lights out in thirty for anyone playing tomorrow!"

Zach stood at the top of the path, hands cupped around his mouth like a megaphone, grinning wickedly at us.

"We're coming!" Sean called back, not sounding particularly rushed. "And you're not my mother, Zach!"

"Thank god for that," Zach retorted. "I'd have disowned you years ago."

As he disappeared back toward the hotel, Sean turned to me with a rueful smile. "We should probably head back."

"Probably," I agreed, though I made no move to step away from him.

"Early game tomorrow," he continued, his arms still around me. "You need to prepare your notes, I need to review game footage with the coaches..."

"All very important tasks," I nodded solemnly.

"So responsible," Sean murmured, leaning in to kiss me once more, a lingering touch that promised more to come.

"The most responsible," I agreed when we finally broke apart. "An absolute model of journalistic professionalism."

Sean laughed, taking my hand again as we began walking back toward the hotel. "Somehow I doubt Mia would agree if she could see you now."

"Mia would understand," I insisted. "She's always saying journalists need to fully immerse themselves in their stories."

"Is that what you're doing?" Sean asked, his tone playful. "Immersing yourself in your story?"

"Oh, absolutely," I responded with exaggerated seriousness. "Deep, thorough immersion. Might take months, even years of... close observation."

"Years, huh?" Sean's voice was lighter, but I could hear the genuine question beneath the teasing.

"Maybe," I said more softly. "If the story warranted it."

His hand tightened around mine, and though he didn't respond verbally, the gesture said enough.

Back at the hotel, we shared the elevator with Zach and a couple of freshmen, the enclosed space filled with their animated discussion of tomorrow's opponent. Sean stood beside me, his arm casually around my waist, thumb hooked through my belt loop as if it belonged there.

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