Page 61 of The Boyfriend Zone

"Exactly. If I'd been honest from the beginning, maybe I'd have missed a few games, but I wouldn't be out for most of the season," Sean ruefully touched his healing shoulder. "The irony is, I was so afraid of letting people down that I ended up letting them down more in the long run."

"And now?" I prompted. "How are you approaching things differently?"

"I'm trying to be more honest," Sean said simply. "About what I'm feeling, what I need, what I want. It's... not easy, after so many years of just pushing through and keeping things inside. But it's worth it."

The interview naturally shifted into discussion of his future plans. This was territory we hadn't explored much in our personal conversations, and I found myself genuinely curious about his answer.

"If the pro opportunity comes, I'll take it," Sean said, his tone measured. "But this injury has been a wake-up call. Hockey careers are short, and injuries are part of the game. I'm considering graduate school for sports management, maybe even coaching. Having options feels freeing."

I jotted this down, hiding a smile at the thoughtful way he spoke about his future. The Sean I'd first met would never have admitted to a plan B, let alone considered that hockey might not be his entire identity.

"You'd make a great coach," I observed, unable to keep the warmth from my voice despite my professional demeanor. "You already have that natural ability to see patterns and explain them clearly."

A slight flush colored Sean's cheeks. "Yeah? You think so?"

"Definitely. I've seen how the younger players respond to you, even from the bench. You have that perfect balance of demanding excellence without being a jerk about it."

The formal portion of our interview concluded, and I switched off the recorder, setting it aside. We both relaxed, the invisible barrier of journalist and subject dissolving as I moved to join him on the couch.

"So," I said, settling beside him. "How did that feel? Being on the other side of the questioning for once?"

"Less invasive than I expected," Sean admitted with a small laugh. "Though I'm pretty sure I revealed more to you in the last hour than I have to anyone else in months."

"That's my superpower," I teased. "Getting stubborn hockey players to open up about their feelings."

"I'd argue it's more your persistence than a superpower," Sean countered, taking my hand and lacing our fingers together. "You just refuse to give up until you get your story."

There was admiration in his voice rather than criticism, and I squeezed his hand in acknowledgment. "Speaking of not giving up..." I hesitated, uncertain if I should venture into more personal territory. "Were you ever worried? About what people would think about us, I mean. About you liking a guy."

Sean's thumb traced circles on the back of my hand as he considered the question. "Earlier in the semester, I didn't know what I was allowed to feel," he said finally. "I'd been so focused on hockey that I rarely dated seriously, period. Let alone contemplated a relationship with a guy, even if I'd had private inklings about my bisexuality."

"Your father's expectations," I supplied, recalling our previous conversations.

"Partly that," Sean nodded. "There was this unspoken image of what a star athlete son should be, and being openly bisexual didn't fit that picture. But then I met you, and none of those old fears mattered as much."

"I was terrified too, you know," I admitted. "Not about being out—I've been comfortable with my sexuality since high school—but about getting involved with someone I was supposed to be covering objectively. About falling for someone who had every reason not to trust journalists prying into his life."

"We made quite a pair," Sean laughed softly. "Both fighting what we wanted for different reasons."

"And look at us now," I gestured between us. "The scandalous reporter-athlete relationship that turned out to be the least dramatic thing about the season."

"Nate's reaction when you told him we were official was pretty dramatic," Sean pointed out with a grin. "Didn't he threaten to prank-call Coach Barnett to announce it?"

"Oh god," I groaned, remembering my best friend’s enthusiastic response. "He wanted every romantic detail, like we were characters in some CW drama he was following. Then he started plotting this elaborate scheme toaccidentallyreveal us to the team, as if they didn't already know."

"To be fair, Zach was just as bad," Sean admitted. "He kept offering to be my relationship coach, which is rich coming from a guy who can't admit he's into your best friend despite staring at him like he's the last slice of pizza after a three-day fast."

We both dissolved into laughter. The door to the lounge opened suddenly, and we sprang apart as Mia poked her head in.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said, not looking particularly sorry. "But I need the lounge for a staff meeting in ten minutes."

"Of course," I nodded, glancing at my watch in surprise. "I didn't realize how long we've been talking."

Sean stood, gathering his things. "I should let you get back to work. Wouldn't want to be the cause of you missing a deadline."

"Too late for that," I joked, rising to walk him to the door. "You've been disrupting my professional focus since day one."

"Worth it, though?" Sean asked, a flicker of genuine uncertainty beneath his playful tone.

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