Page 7 of The Boyfriend Zone

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Zach leaned against his locker, smirking. "Maybe if you'd been watching me instead of taking a hundred pictures of the goalie, you'd have your answer."

"I was documenting the game comprehensively," Nate replied primly. "Not my fault if you weren't doing anything worth photographing."

"Really? Because I scored twice, sweetheart. That seems pretty photo-worthy to me."

"Quality over quantity, honey. Anyone can slam a puck into a net."

Zach's eyebrow shot up. "Is that a challenge?"

"Take it however you want."

I watched their exchange with growing amusement and confusion. There was clearly something going on that I wasn't privy to. I moved closer, wondering if I should intervene before they caused a scene.

"Have you ever even been on the ice, press boy?" Zach asked, stepping into Nate's personal space. "Or do you just criticize from the sidelines?"

"I've been on the ice," Nate retorted, not backing down. "And unlike some people, I don't need to show off to get attention."

"No? What do you need, then?"

"Certainly not whatever you're offering."

I cleared my throat, finally deciding to step in. "I think we have enough material for now," I said, trying not to laugh at their startled expressions. "Thanks for the interview, Zach."

Nate shot me a look that promised retribution, but stepped back from Zach with a final glare. "Yes, thanks. It was illuminating."

"Anytime." Zach's smirk returned. "I'm always available for in-depth interviews."

As we walked away, I nudged Nate. "What was that about?"

"Nothing," he said too quickly. "Just getting quotes for the article."

"Uh-huh. Sure."

Nate sighed, pulling me further away from the players. "Fine. Remember that guy I told you about? The one who kissed me at that party a few weeks ago and then ghosted me?"

I stared at him. "No way."

"Yes way. Small world, huh?" Nate glanced back at Zach, who was now talking with Sean. "We've been running into each other all semester, and it's always like that—verbal sparring that goes nowhere."

"Sounds like it's going somewhere to me," I teased.

"Please. We hate each other."

"If you say so." I wasn't convinced, but I let it drop as I noticed Sean heading for the exit, still in his gear. "I'll be right back. Need to check something for the article."

Before Nate could stop me, I followed Sean out of the locker room, catching up to him in the empty hallway leading to the training rooms.

"Sean," I called, my voice echoing slightly in the concrete passage.

He froze, then slowly turned to face me. The mask of indifference slipped, revealing a mixture of emotions I couldn't quite decipher.

"Lucas," he said quietly. "I can explain."

I crossed my arms, waiting. "I'm listening."

He glanced around nervously, as if checking for witnesses to our conversation. "Not here. Please."

"Then where? Because in case you missed it, I'm covering your team this season. We're going to be seeing a lot of each other."

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