Page 75 of The Boyfriend Zone

Our conversation meandered from there, touching on our respective family holiday traditions, plans for New Year's, and the ongoing saga of Zach and Nate's courtship, which had apparently progressed to daily video calls despite being in different states.

"They spent two hours discussing the merits of different camera lenses yesterday," Lucas reported, shaking his head in disbelief. "Nate said it was purely professional advice, but he was blushing the entire time."

"Zach's been texting me hockey drill videos," I countered. "With extremely detailed analysis of why certain techniques would help Nate's core stability for 'holding heavy cameras during long shoots.'"

"They're ridiculous," Lucas declared, though his tone was fond.

"Says the guy wearing a Santa hat in bed," I pointed out.

"Only because you asked me to!" Lucas protested, reaching up to adjust said hat. "And don't pretend you don't think it's adorable."

"I never said it wasn't," I replied, my voice softening. "I think everything about you is adorable. Even when you're grumpy and stressed about deadlines, or when you get that little crease between your eyebrows while you're editing."

Lucas's expression shifted from playful to something warmer, more vulnerable. "You notice the crease?"

"I notice everything about you," I admitted, the honesty easier through a screen, somehow. "The way you tap your pen when you're thinking. How you always save the best bite of food for last. The little humming noise you make when you're happy but trying not to show it."

"I do not hum," Lucas objected, but his cheeks had flushed pink.

"You absolutely do," I insisted. "It's like this little sound in the back of your throat. You did it when I brought you coffee during your late-night study session last week. And when I kissed that spot behind your ear the day before."

"Sean, professional Lucas observer," he murmured, but he was smiling, his eyes soft in the dim light of his room.

"Someone has to do it," I replied lightly, though my heart felt anything but light. "Given how oblivious you are to your own adorableness."

"Stop saying 'adorable,'" Lucas groaned. "You're making me sound like a puppy or something."

"Fine. Captivating. Magnetic. Irresistible. Better?"

"Much worse, actually," Lucas laughed, covering his face with his hands. "God, you're going to be even more insufferable when we're back on campus, aren't you?"

"Count on it," I promised. "I've got all these compliments saved up with nowhere to direct them."

"You could try writing them down," Lucas suggested. "Like a list. 'Reasons Lucas Is the Greatest Person Sean Has Ever Met.'"

"Bold of you to assume I haven't already started one," I teased, though the idea wasn't entirely without merit. "Maybe I'll give it to you for Valentine's Day. Extremely detailed, with citations."

Lucas's laugh was everything—warm and genuine and slightly sleepy, the sound making my chest ache with how much I missed him. We talked for another hour, until his responses grew slower, his eyes drooping despite his efforts to stay awake.

"You should sleep," I said gently. "It's late, and I know your mom has that big breakfast thing planned tomorrow."

"Don't wanna say goodbye yet," Lucas murmured, fighting a yawn. "Miss you too much."

"Miss you too," I replied, the simple words carrying the weight of everything I wasn't quite ready to say. "But I'll see you in nine days."

"Too long," he complained, but relented. "Fine. Sleep. But text me tomorrow?"

"First thing," I promised. "Sweet dreams, Lucas."

"Sweet dreams, Sean."

The screen went dark, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the lingering warmth of our conversation. Nine days. It simultaneously felt like forever and not nearly enough time to process the revelation that had been growing steadily within me.

I was in love with Lucas. Completely, hopelessly in love. And when we got back to campus, I was going to tell him.

January brought freezing temperatures, a fresh blanket of snow across campus, and the return to routine. I'd been back for two days, methodically following my rehab exercises and preparing for the new semester, when Dr. Shaw delivered the news I'd been hoping for.

"You're cleared for limited play," he announced after examining my shoulder thoroughly. "No more than fifteen minutes of ice time to start, and absolutely no unnecessary contact. But you can suit up for the Dartmouth game if you feel ready."

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