With my hands planted against his back, I try to rub a little harder, digging into the tight muscle there, trying to loosen all those knots. Jack carries so much stress in his shoulders; he's just a solid mass of anxiety under his skin right here. It's impossible to attack broadly so I start honing in on sections at a time, smoothing my hands down his spine to start low.

"Hmm?" I reply before he starts asking, his voice low and clearly comfortable, words tinged with that little bit of Quebecois lilt that's somehow both adorable and really hot.

The question is a little surprising, but it's not like it's not something I haven't wondered myself. "Honestly, I don't know," I tell him, frowning down at my hands as I try to picture it. "I mean, I think... I think probably not, what with you headin' to the NHL and all. It's one thing to be out as a college student on one of the most LGBT-friendly campuses in the country and quite another to be out in a professional sport. And I know how important hockey is to you, I know that's your one true love."

I fall quiet then, just for a moment before shrugging as I smooth my hands up higher. "And you were fittin' to move across the country anyway, weren't you? So even we'd fallen into something like this for awhile, if just a week or two, it's not like we could've kept it up, right?"