Page 12 of The Boyfriend Zone

"So I've been told. Now, about that second goal..."

I'd never seen Nate like this. My usually confident but relatively professional best friend was in full sass mode, and even stranger, Zach seemed to be enjoying it. The hockey player was actually blushing, something I wouldn't have thought possible based on his cocky locker room persona.

I approached slowly. "I think we have enough material for now," I said, trying not to laugh at their startled expressions. "Thanks for the interview, Zach."

"Right, the interview," Nate muttered, turning off his recorder. "For the article."

"Anytime." Zach's eyes never left Nate's face.

As we gathered our things and prepared to leave, Nate was uncharacteristically quiet. I waited until we were walking back across campus before broaching the subject.

"So," I began, "you and Zach..."

"Don't start," he warned.

"I'm just saying, that was quite an interview technique."

"Oh, shut up." But there was no real heat in his words. "He's the most annoying person I've ever met."

"And yet..."

"And yet nothing. He kissed me at that party because he was drunk and bored, then didn't bother to call or text. End of story."

"Except it's clearly not the end, judging by whatever that was back there."

Nate stopped walking, turning to face me with an exasperated expression. "Look, he's a player, in every sense of the word. The kind of guy who thinks he's God's gift to everyone. Exactly the type I avoid."

"He seemed pretty into you," I pointed out.

"He's into the chase. The novelty of someone who doesn't fall at his feet." Nate started walking again, his pace faster now. "Trust me, I know the type."

"If you say so." I matched his stride. "But for what it's worth, I've never seen you blush like that around someone you claim to hate."

"I wasn't blushing! It was hot in there."

"Sure, that's why it only affected your face when Zach was talking to you."

Nate shoved me lightly. "Like you're one to talk. At least I didn't make out with my hockey player in a club and then get ghosted."

"Touché." I winced at the reminder. "Though technically, Sean didn't ghost me. We just... didn't exchange information."

We reached our apartment building, a slightly run-down complex that housed mostly students. As we climbed the stairs to our third-floor unit, I mulled over the bizarre situation we found ourselves in.

"So we're both hung up on hockey players who are various degrees of emotionally unavailable," I summarized. "Great start to the assignment."

"I am not hung up on Zach," Nate insisted, unlocking our door. "I just enjoy putting him in his place."

Our apartment was small but comfortable, with mismatched furniture collected over our two years of living together. Nate headed straight for the kitchen, pulling out a frozen pizza and turning on the oven.

"Comfort food," he explained. "I need it after dealing with that egomaniac."

I settled onto our lumpy couch, opening my laptop to start drafting the article while the game was still fresh in my mind. But as I stared at the blank document, my thoughts kept circling back to Sean.

If he was injured but playing through it, that was a story. Maybe not front-page news, but certainly relevant to our coverage of the team. A star defenseman hiding an injury could affect the entire season. But reporting on it without concrete evidence would be unethical.

"You're thinking too hard again," Nate said, flopping down beside me with two beers. He handed me one. "I can practically hear the gears grinding."

I accepted the beer gratefully. "Just trying to figure out how to approach the article."

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