Page 23 of The Boyfriend Zone

I glanced at him, surprised by the admission. "So you and Nate...?"

"There is no 'me and Nate,'" Zach said quickly. "He still thinks I'm an arrogant jerk who ghosted him after one kiss."

"Aren't you?" I teased.

Zach shoved me lightly. "You're supposed to be on my side, asshole."

"I am," I assured him. "But you did ghost him."

"Because I freaked out! I didn't know what to do with... all that."

I nodded, understanding completely. "So what now?"

Zach shrugged. "No idea. But he gave me his number, so that's something, right?"

"Definitely something," I agreed. "Just try not to disappear on him again. He seems like a good guy."

"Yeah," Zach said softly. "He is."

We reached our apartment building, the familiar walk-up with its perpetually broken elevator and slightly musty hallways. As I fumbled for my keys, Zach caught my arm.

"For what it's worth," he said, uncharacteristically serious, "Lucas seems like a good guy too. And he looks at you like you hung the moon or something."

I swallowed hard, not trusting myself to respond.

"All I'm saying is," Zach continued, "maybe some things are worth being complicated for."

Chapter 8: Lucas

"If you sigh one more time, I'm going to throw this controller at your head," Nate declared, not looking away from the zombie apocalypse unfolding on our TV screen. "That's like the fifth one in ten minutes."

I slumped deeper into our threadbare armchair, staring at the ceiling. "I didn't sign up for this."

"For what? Watching me destroy the undead? Because I'm pretty sure that was the entire plan for our Sunday night."

"No," I groaned, running a hand over my face. "This situation, with Sean."

Nate paused his game, turning to face me with exaggerated shock. "Lucas, willingly discussing feelings? Who are you and what have you done with my emotionally constipated roommate?"

I threw a pillow at him, which he dodged with practiced ease. "I'm serious, Nate. I'm in over my head here."

Nate's expression softened as he set down his controller. "Okay, talk to me. You two were having a whole conversation without saying a word. It was sickeningly cute."

"We're just friends," I insisted, though the words sounded hollow even to my own ears.

"Right. And Zach and I are mortal enemies who exchanged phone numbers purely for professional reasons."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what professional reasons would those be?"

Nate's cheeks colored slightly. "He wants me to take some action shots for his hockey profile. Strictly business."

"Of course." I bit back a smile. "And the fact that you spent two hours arguing about photography with him was just thorough pre-production planning."

"Exactly." Nate unpaused his game, his fingers jabbing buttons with unnecessary force. "Anyway, we're talking about you and your hockey hottie, not me."

I sighed, picking up my phone again to check for messages that weren't there. "Sean's not 'my' anything. He made it very clear he wants to keep things professional."

"Says the guy who walked you outside for a private goodbye."

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