Page 29

The university's banquet hall had been transformed for the hockey team's thank-you dinner, with table centerpieces in team colors and a highlight reel from the season playing on a projector at the front of the room. I adjusted my tie nervously as Sean and I approached the entrance, his hand warm and reassuring at the small of my back.

"Relax," he murmured, guiding me through the doors. "Everyone here already knows you. They're not going to judge you for being my plus-one."

"Easy for you to say," I replied under my breath. "You're not wearing a tie that's trying to strangle you."

Sean laughed, reaching up to slightly loosen the offending garment. "Better?"

"Marginally." I smoothed down the front of my dress shirt, still feeling oddly formal despite knowing most of the attendees. "I just don't want to embarrass you in front of your team and their families."

"Not possible," Sean assured me, pressing a brief kiss to my temple before leading me further into the room. "Besides, after your sign at Senior Night, I think they're all well aware you're my biggest fan."

"The sign was Nate's idea," I protested, though we both knew I'd enthusiastically embraced the concept once suggested. "He said it needed to be 'appropriately embarrassing' for the occasion."

"Mission accomplished," Sean grinned, nodding toward the slideshow where, sure enough, a photo of us from that night had just appeared—me on the ice with the sign draped cape-like over my shoulders, wrapped in Sean's enthusiastic embrace.

"Oh god," I groaned, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. "Who took that?"

"Ava, probably," Sean guessed, looking far too amused by my embarrassment. "She has a talent for capturing moments people would rather forget."

"Speaking of Ava," I said, scanning the room, "I should find her and deliver some well-deserved vengeance."

Before I could implement this plan, we were waylaid by Coach Barnett, who greeted Sean with a firm handshake and me with a nod that felt more approving than I'd expected.

"Sean, Lucas," he acknowledged. "Glad you could make it. Your piece on the championship game was well-written, Lucas. Captured the tension without being melodramatic. Good work."

"Thank you, sir," I managed, thrown by the unexpected praise. Coach had always been professional but distant in our interactions, maintaining a careful boundary between his team and the press.

"You earned it," he said simply, before turning back to Sean. "How's the shoulder?"

"Much better," Sean reported. "Another week of rest and I should be cleared for normal activities."

"Good, good." Coach nodded, a hint of genuine warmth breaking through his typically stoic expression. "Enjoy the evening, both of you. You deserve to celebrate."

As he moved on to greet other guests, I turned to Sean with raised eyebrows. "Did Coach Barnett just approve of me?"

"Told you," Sean grinned, guiding me toward our assigned table near the front. "Everyone already likes you. I'm the one who had to win them over after being an ass to you at the beginning."

"Ancient history," I waved dismissively, though the memory of those early, tense interactions now held a certain nostalgic charm. It was hard to believe that the guarded, almost hostile athlete I'd first interviewed was the same person now holding my chair for me with a tender smile.

Dinner progressed pleasantly, with speeches from the university president, the athletic director, and finally, Coach Barnett, each praising the team's dedication and accomplishments. The atmosphere was warm and celebratory, a fitting capstone to the championship season.

As dessert was being served, Zach suddenly stood, tapping his fork against his glass to draw attention. "If I could have everyone's attention for a moment," he announced, a mischievous glint in his eye that immediately set off warning bells.

"Oh no," Sean muttered beside me. "This can't be good."

"I'd like to say a few words about our graduating seniors," Zach continued, "particularly my good friend and flat mate, Sean Mitchell over there."

All eyes turned to our table, where Sean was attempting to look both appreciative and wary—not an easy combination to pull off.

"Now, I've had the pleasure of living with Sean for three years," Zach began, "and I can tell you, there's more to him than meets the eye. For instance, did you know he's secretly a drama queen?"

A ripple of laughter went through the room as Sean groaned softly beside me.

"No, really," Zach insisted. "Think about it. Gets injured, hides it for weeks, then stages this miraculous comeback just in time for the championship run? Talk about a flair for the dramatic! The man wanted a storyline worthy of a Hallmark movie!"

The laughter increased, and I found myself joining in despite Sean's mock-glare in my direction.

"But that's not even the most committed thing he did this season," Zach continued, warming to his theme. "No, the real dedication was finding himself a boyfriend just to improve team dynamics. That's right, ladies and gentlemen—Sean Mitchell went out and got himself a relationship purely for the sake of the team."

I covered my face with my hands in mock embarrassment as the room erupted in cheers and laughter. Sean shook his head, shoulders shaking with suppressed mirth.

"Look at them now," Zach gestured toward us with a dramatic flourish. "Disgustingly happy. The power of positive thinking, folks. And excellent taste in partners, if I do say so myself."

He raised his glass in our direction. "To Sean and Lucas—without whose romantic tension and eventual resolution we might never have found our championship chemistry. The team thanks you for your service."

"To Sean and Lucas!" the room echoed, everyone raising their glasses in our direction.

"I'm going to kill him," Sean murmured conversationally, even as he raised his own glass in acknowledgment. "Slowly. Painfully."

"No, you won't," I replied, clinking my glass against his. "You love him. Besides, he's not entirely wrong about the timing, even if the causation is questionable."

"Our relationship did not cause the championship," Sean protested, though his eyes were dancing with amusement.

"Correlation doesn't imply causation," I agreed solemnly. "But the data is compelling. Before me: no championship. After me: championship. I'm just saying, the evidence speaks for itself."

Sean's laugh was warm and free, a sound I never tired of hearing. "Remind me why I put up with you again?"

"My charming personality? My devastatingly good looks? My willingness to carry your MVP trophy when your arm was in a sling?"

"All compelling reasons," Sean conceded, leaning closer. "Though I can think of a few more."

Before he could elaborate, we were interrupted by Ava, who dropped into an empty chair at our table with her portfolio in hand.

"Sorry to break up the lovefest," she announced, "but I have news and no one else will properly appreciate it."

"What news?" I asked, recognizing the barely contained excitement in her expression.

"I got the summer gig!" she exclaimed, opening her portfolio to show us the formal acceptance letter. "The one with Regional Life magazine! Full-time, paid, actual published photo credits!"

"Ava, that's amazing!" I hugged her, genuinely thrilled for my friend who had been anxiously waiting to hear back about this particular opportunity. "When do you start?"

"Two weeks after graduation," she replied, practically bouncing in her seat. "Just enough time to move my stuff to the new apartment and get settled before diving in."

"This calls for a celebration," Sean declared, signaling a waiter for another round of drinks. "To Ava and her first real photography job!"

As we toasted her success, I couldn't help but feel a wave of contentment. Everything seemed to be falling into place—not just for Sean and me, but for our friends as well. Ava with her dream photography job, Nate and Zach finally admitting their feelings for each other, everyone moving forward with purpose and direction.

I spotted Nate across the room, gesturing animatedly as he entertained a small crowd with what appeared to be one of his signature exaggerated stories. Zach stood nearby, watching with undisguised fondness until he couldn't resist jumping in to correct some apparent inaccuracy, leading to a good-natured argument that had their audience in stitches.

"They're going to be insufferable now that they're officially together, aren't they?" I commented, nodding in their direction.

"Probably," Sean agreed cheerfully. "But they're happy, so I can't complain too much."

"Who's happy?" a voice asked, and I turned to find Sean's father standing beside our table, looking more relaxed than I'd ever seen him in his dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

"Zach and Nate," Sean explained, standing to greet his father. "They finally stopped dancing around each other and admitted they're into each other."

"About time," Mr. Mitchell said dryly. "The tension was getting painful to watch, even for an emotional disaster like me."

I nearly choked on my drink at this surprisingly self-aware assessment. Sean looked equally startled, though he recovered quickly.

"Dad, you remember Lucas," he said, a statement rather than a question since we'd been properly introduced at the championship game.

"Of course," Mr. Mitchell nodded, offering his hand. "Good to see you again, Lucas. That was quite a piece you wrote about the championship. Made even an old cynic like me feel the excitement."

"Thank you, sir," I replied, shaking his hand and trying not to look as surprised as I felt at the compliment. "That means a lot coming from someone who knows the game so well."

Mr. Mitchell's mouth quirked in what might have been a smile. "You'll have to handle all of Sean's celebrity press inquiries going forward," he joked. "Keep the vultures at bay when he hits the big leagues."

"I'll do my best," I promised, warming to this version of Robert Mitchell who could joke about his son's future without the weight of expectation that had previously characterized his comments.

As the evening progressed and conversations flowed around us, Sean leaned close to whisper in my ear. "Want to slip outside for a minute? It's getting a bit warm in here."

I nodded, following him toward the balcony doors where the cool night air provided a welcome respite from the crowded ballroom.

Sean's arms circled my waist from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder as we looked out over the familiar landscape that had been our home for the past few years.

"Hard to believe it's almost over," I said softly, leaning back against his chest. "Sometimes it feels like I just arrived here, and sometimes it feels like I've been here forever."

"I know what you mean," Sean agreed, his breath warm against my ear. "But it's not really ending, is it? Just changing."

I turned in his arms to face him, studying the features that had become so dear to me. "You got those acceptance letters yesterday, right? The development camp?"

Sean nodded, his expression a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. "And the grad assistant position is still open if I want to come back."

"And I got the internship," I confirmed, the news still fresh enough to send a thrill through me whenever I thought about it. "We have choices. Good ones."

"Fate aligned our locations pretty perfectly," Sean observed, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Both in Boston for the summer."

"And after that?" I asked, the question that had been hovering between us for weeks finally surfacing.

"I want to give pro hockey a real shot," Sean said honestly. "See if the camp leads to something. If not, or after—" he shrugged, the gesture conveying both acceptance and anticipation, "—I'll come back, maybe do the masters, play or coach or both."

"And I'll still have my senior year," I acknowledged. "But I've already been looking at grad schools and media jobs in whichever city you might end up in."

The plan had formed organically over weeks of conversations—not a detailed roadmap, but a shared commitment to figuring it out together, to making decisions that would allow us to build a life without either of us sacrificing our individual goals.

"Are you scared?" Sean asked suddenly, his eyes searching mine. "We've had this bubble here, you know? Where everyone's on our side, where things make sense."

I understood what he was really asking—if I was nervous about leaving the supportive environment of campus, about facing the wider world as a couple and as individuals chasing careers that might not always align neatly.

"A little," I admitted, seeing no reason to pretend otherwise. "But we've handled scarier things, haven't we?"

Sean's smile was answer enough, the love in his eyes warming me more effectively than any reassurance could have. Before he could respond verbally, the sound of music drifted out from the ballroom—a nostalgic playlist of songs from our freshman year, apparently selected to evoke maximum sentimentality.

Through the glass doors, we could see that a spontaneous dance had started, with couples forming on the makeshift dance floor. Zach was twirling Nate in an exaggerated, theatrical manner that had them both laughing despite Nate's token protests.

"May I have this dance?" Sean asked, bowing with mock formality.

"How could I refuse such a gallant invitation?" I replied, taking his outstretched hand.

We rejoined the party, finding a space on the edge of the dance floor as a slow song began. Sean's arms circled my waist, mine around his neck, our bodies swaying gently to the music. Around us, our friends and teammates moved in similar patterns—Zach and Nate no longer pretending their closeness was anything but romantic, Ava dancing with one of the freshman players who had been trying to work up the courage to ask her all evening, Coach Barnett and his wife of thirty years moving with the comfortable synchronicity of a long-married couple.

I tried to take a mental snapshot of this moment—the warm glow of the lights, the familiar faces surrounding us, the solid presence of Sean in my arms. This perfect, fleeting intersection of past and future, where everything felt possible and nothing felt out of reach.

Life wouldn't always be this picture-perfect, I knew. There would be challenges ahead—road trips apart, new pressures, maybe even public scrutiny if Sean's hockey career took off. But in that moment, swaying in the arms of the man I loved, surrounded by people who supported us, I couldn't bring myself to worry about any of it.