Page 119 of Rule 4: Never Get Stranded with a Sports Reporter

Jeremy shrugs. “I have connections.” His gaze darts to Rex who is busy pressing his lips together.

Jesus Christ, I’m out.

Everyone knows everything.

All the parts of me I’ve kept bottled up are now visible to everyone. The cameramen’s gazes study me, incorporating this new information with everything they know about me, and ripping me bare.

Jeremy bounds over, still clapping. “I came to support Cal for his first big interview, but I had no idea what I was getting into. That was...” He shakes his head in amazement. “That was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen on live television. Jason, seriously, that was beautiful.”

The tension in the studio breaks. A few of the crew members clap. The sound engineer gives me a thumbs up. Even the stern producer cracks a smile.

I look at Cal, and the affection in his gaze is so clear, and everything in my body settles.

“What was that?” he asks.

“I believe it’s called a grand gesture,” I say.

Cal snorts.

“Was it too much?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I appreciate it.”

Jeremy bounces between us. “Too much? Are you insane? That was perfect! You came out on live television and declared your love! That’s epic!”

“Jeremy,” Cal warns, but he’s smiling.

“What? I’m allowed to be excited!”

“I didn’t want to do what I want to do now without having done that.”

Cal’s brow furrows.

“Sorry.” I’m pretty sure my face looks sheepish. “I’m not good with words.”

“You’re doing perfectly well.” His eyes are warm and encouraging, and everything in my body settles like it always does when I’m around him.

I take his hands in mine, feeling the familiar way his fingers rub against mine, soothing the nervousness skittering through my veins.

“I love you,” I tell him.

Cal’s eyes round.

“Too much?”

He shakes his head, his eyes bright. “No, Jason. Not too much at all.”

“I want to go on a date with you,” I blurt. “In public.”

“I’ll go anywhere with you. I think I proved that.”

I wrap Cal’s arms around me and lean against his wide, soft torso. I sigh happily.

The cameramen look at us uncertainly.

The producer approaches, her face carefully neutral. “Mr. Larvik? Your family is asking to see you.”

My blood turns to ice. I’d forgotten they were here, forgotten that Dad and Gramps flew in expecting to watch their boy talk about hockey and survival, not... this.