Media Day
1329 Words
The Frosthawks’ practice facility was already buzzing when Ava arrived.
Production crews wheeled lighting equipment through the hallways while photographers adjusted camera angles along the practice rink. Staff members hurried from room to room carrying clipboards and coffee cups, each person moving with the controlled urgency that always surrounded a playoff run.
Media Day.
For most reporters, it was another assignment.
For Ava…
It meant spending another day pretending Liam Hayes was just another athlete.
Melissa spotted her almost immediately.
“There you are.”
She handed Ava a neatly printed schedule.
“You’re starting with Coach Daniels, then a few players before finishing with Captain Hayes.”
Ava skimmed the page.
“So, basically saving the hardest interview for last.”
Melissa gave her a sympathetic smile.
“The league specifically requested you.”
Ava looked up.
“They requested me?”
“They loved yesterday’s interview.”
Ava frowned.
“The hockey questions?”
Melissa laughed.
“Not exactly.”
She pulled out her phone and opened the league’s official social media page.
“The clip’s everywhere.”
A short video began to play.
The producer’s voice came first.
“When was the last time you fell in love?”
The room in the video fell silent.
Then Liam answered.
“I’ve only been in love once.”
The producer chuckled awkwardly.
“Long time ago?”
Liam didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, the camera caught him looking directly at Ava.
Then he said quietly,
“Not as long as people think.”
The clip ended.
Ava felt her face warm.
She remembered exactly how uncomfortable she’d been standing there.
Apparently…
Everyone else had noticed too.
Melissa scrolled through the comments.
He’s looking at the reporter.
There’s no way they’re strangers.
Captain Hayes has NEVER answered a personal question like that.
Someone find out who she is.
I’m invested already.
Ava handed the phone back with a groan.
“I’m not a sports fan, I’m a ‘scandal’ now,” Ava muttered, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “If my editor sees this, I’m not just a reporter anymore—I’m the lead story.”
“I’m deleting social media.”
Melissa laughed.
“I think it’s a little late for that.”
“I’m serious.”
“The internet already has theories.”
“I don’t want to know.”
“They think you’re either secretly dating…”
Melissa paused dramatically.
“…or secretly divorced.”
Ava stared at her.
“…Divorced?”
“The internet has a wild imagination.”
Despite herself, Ava laughed.
For the first time that morning, some of the tension eased from her shoulders.
⸻
The first few interviews passed quickly.
Coach Daniels talked about discipline.
The rookie goalie spoke about nerves.
One defenseman joked that the trainers deserved playoff bonuses for keeping everyone healthy.
Normal.
Predictable.
Comforting.
By the time Ava reached Interview Room Three, she’d almost convinced herself today would be easier.
Almost.
The door stood slightly open.
Liam was already inside.
He sat at the conference table reviewing notes on a tablet, his navy training jacket zipped halfway to his neck.
At the sound of the door opening, he looked up.
“Morning.”
His greeting was polite.
Measured.
Professional.
Exactly what she’d asked for.
“Morning.”
She took the seat across from him and arranged her recorder, notebook, and pen with unnecessary precision.
The silence stretched between them.
Finally, Liam spoke.
“I saw the video.”
She looked up.
“So did I.”
“I wasn’t trying to create a headline.”
“I know.”
Another pause.
“The internet did that on its own.”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
“They’re convinced we’re secretly divorced.”
That earned the smallest laugh she’d heard from him all week.
“I saw that one.”
“It had thirty thousand likes.”
“I didn’t count.”
“You read the comments.”
“I was curious.”
“So was I.”
For a brief moment…
It felt easy again.
Then the producer stepped into the room.
“We’re ready whenever you are.”
Just like that…
The moment disappeared.
⸻
The cameras rolled.
Ava slipped effortlessly into interviewer mode.
“Captain Hayes, the team looked confident during yesterday’s practice. Has anything changed heading into Game Two?”
Liam answered calmly.
“I don’t think confidence is something you suddenly find during the playoffs. You build it over an entire season.”
She nodded.
“What gives this team confidence?”
“Trust.”
“In what sense?”
“We know the man beside us is going to do his job.”
She scribbled the quote into her notebook.
It was exactly the kind of answer readers expected from a captain.
Professional.
Thoughtful.
Safe.
She asked another question.
“This organization has built its identity around resilience. How do you keep everyone focused when expectations are so high?”
Liam leaned back slightly before answering.
“You stop thinking about expectations.”
“And think about what instead?”
“The next shift.”
“The next play.”
“The next decision.”
He smiled faintly.
“If you spend the whole game looking at the scoreboard,” Liam said, his voice dropping an octave, “you stop paying attention to what’s right in front of you.”
He held her gaze a second too long—a challenge, or perhaps an apology.
She scribbled the quote into her notebook, the pen scratching loudly in the quiet room. It was professional, thoughtful, safe—exactly the kind of answer readers expected from a captain.
But as she wrote the words, her hand felt heavy. The polished veneer of his response didn't quite cover the jagged edges of what he was actually saying.
It was a perfect answer, yet it left her feeling like she was missing a piece of the puzzle.
He wasn't talking about the game.
He was talking about them.
⸻
The interview ended twenty minutes later.
As the crew packed up cameras and lighting equipment, Ava gathered her notebook.
“You’ve gotten better,” she said before she could stop herself.
Liam looked up.
“At interviews?”
“At saying one thing while meaning another.”
A slow smile appeared.
“I learned from the best.”
She rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t quite hide her own smile.
“I don’t do that.”
“You do.”
He stood, slipping his tablet beneath one arm.
“You always ask hockey questions.”
She frowned.
“Because I’m covering hockey.”
“But you’re never really asking about hockey.”
Before she could ask what he meant, Coach Daniels appeared at the doorway.
“Captain, team meeting.”
Liam nodded.
“Coming.”
He looked back at Ava.
“I’ll see you at practice.”
It was a dismissal, yet he didn't move immediately. For a heartbeat, the air in the room felt heavy, charged with the weight of all the things he was currently leaving unsaid. Then, he turned.
He didn’t look back. He didn't have to. He knew exactly where she was sitting.
She watched him leave before looking down at the notebook in her hands.
The interview had been flawless.
Professional.
Exactly the way it should be.
So why did it feel like they’d spent twenty minutes talking about everything except hockey?
⸻
Outside the room, Liam fell into step beside Coach Daniels.
The older man glanced at him.
“You did better today.”
“At what?”
“Keeping your distance.”
Liam looked through the glass wall toward Interview Room Three.
Ava was still inside, organizing her notes.
Outside, Liam forced himself to keep walking.
“I’m trying.”
Coach Daniels nodded.
Liam didn’t say another word.
Because trying was turning out to be much harder than losing any game he’d ever played.
- Writer
