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I couldn't get Sean's face out of my mind—the flash of panic when I'd asked about his shoulder, the anger that had followed, clearly masking something deeper. Hurt, perhaps. Or fear.

"You're doing it again," Nate pointed out, tossing a balled-up piece of paper at my head. "That thousand-yard stare thing. It's creepy."

"Sorry," I muttered, blinking as I refocused on our living room. "Just thinking."

"About Sean?" Nate's tone was sympathetic rather than teasing. "Still no word since the hallway incident?"

I shook my head. "Radio silence."

"Maybe it's for the best," Nate suggested carefully. "If he's going to bite your head off for showing basic human concern, he might not be worth the trouble."

"It wasn't like that," I defended, though I wasn't sure why I felt the need to. "He was in pain, and cornered, and I pushed when I should have backed off."

"Still doesn't give him the right to be a jerk to you."

"No," I agreed. "But I get it. If he admits something's wrong, everything changes."

Nate studied me thoughtfully. "You really care about him, don't you? This isn't just about the story anymore."

"It never was," I admitted quietly. "Not really. I mean, yes, I'm curious as a journalist, but mostly I'm just... worried. About him."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"I think I need more information," I said finally. "To understand what he's dealing with. How serious it might be. I have an idea. Want to come with me to the athletic complex?"

"Now?" Nate looked at me like I'd sprouted a second head. "It's 8 AM on a Saturday, Lucas. Normal people are still sleeping."

"Suit yourself," I shrugged, heading for the door. "I'll bring you back coffee."

Thirty minutes later, I was walking into the College Gym it was frantic, almost savage, fueled by everything we hadn't said, everything we hadn't done until now. The tension ratcheted up again, unbearably tight.

Sean pulled me back to my feet, his eyes blazing. He backed me against the wall again, his mouth crashing down on mine while his hand wrapped around my slick cock, his fingers working me with a ruthless speed that left me breathless. It was too much. A cry tore from my throat as the pleasure crested, shattering through me in wave after intense wave. My naked body convulsed against his, legs trembling.

My release seemed to trigger his own. With a final, guttural groan that vibrated against my lips, he shuddered, finding his own powerful climax against my stomach.

For a long moment, we just clung to each other, breathless, sweat and cum-slicked skin sticking together. Reality slowly seeped back in – the chill of the tiles, the faint echo of sounds from the outside world, the risk we’d just taken. Hastily, almost awkwardly, we grabbed nearby towels, cleaning ourselves off. The movements were practical, wiping away the evidence, yet achingly intimate. We dressed in near silence, the only sound the quiet zip of flies, the rustle of clothes.

Standing fully dressed again, the charged energy still hummed between us. Sean led me to the bench area at the front of the locker room, closer to the entrance. He then stepped closer, his gaze searching mine, questions hanging unasked in the air. He leaned in, and his lips met mine in one final, deep kiss. This one wasn’t frantic. It was slower, imbued with the raw memory of what had just passed between us, a confirmation, maybe even a promise.

We were so lost in the moment that we didn't hear the approaching voices until it was too late. The door banged open, and some laughing players walked in, stopping short at the sight of us springing apart.

Time seemed to freeze as we all stared at each other.

"Uh, sorry," Jensen said after an awkward pause. "Didn't mean to interrupt."

"You didn't," Sean said quickly, his voice unnaturally high. "We were just... Lucas was helping me with an interview. For the paper."

"Right," the forward nodded skeptically. "An interview. Cool."

They moved past us to their lockers, stealing curious glances our way. I couldn't tell if they'd seen the kiss or just our close proximity, but either way, the moment was broken.

Sean had turned away, busying himself with his duffel bag, his shoulders tense again. I could almost see the walls going back up, brick by brick.

"I should go," I said quietly. "Let you finish up here."

Sean nodded without looking at me, his earlier vulnerability completely masked now. "Yeah. Thanks for the interview."

"Sean—"

"I'll text you," he cut me off, still not meeting my eyes. "Later."

Taking the hint, I backed toward the door, heart pounding for all the wrong reasons now. Would Sean retreat even further after this close call?

As I slipped out the door, I caught one last glimpse of him, standing alone by his locker with his head bowed, looking lost and uncertain in a way that made me want to go back and put my arms around him, teammates be damned.

Walking away from him felt wrong, like leaving something precious and fragile unprotected. But sometimes giving someone space was the most caring thing you could do.

I just hoped he'd use that space to decide what he really wanted—and that whatever it was, there might still be room in his life for me.