Page 101 of The Girlfriend Goal
"Seriously?" Lance's grin split his face. "Matt must be losing his mind."
"Already apartment hunting. They found a place near the university." I paused. "Made me think about our living situation."
"Yeah?"
"My lease is up in March. Your place is bigger, nicer. The commute isn't that bad..." I trailed off, suddenly nervous.
"Rachel Martinez, are you asking to move in with me?"
"Maybe? Unless that's too fast or too much or—"
He kissed me quiet, thorough enough that our server discretely disappeared.
"Yes," he said against my lips. "Obviously yes. Move in tomorrow if you want."
March arrived with moving boxes and friends complaining about stairs. My stuff looked right in Lance's space – our space now. The first night officially living together, we slow danced in the kitchen to no music, just holding each other and swaying.
"No take-backs," I warned. "You're stuck with me now."
"Promise?" He spun me out and back. "Because I've got plans for us. The forever kind, if you're interested."
"I might be persuaded," I teased, but we both knew the truth. I was already his, had been since that first encounter in the locker room. Every obstacle, every moment of doubt, had led us here.
The spring passed in a comfortable rhythm. Work, hockey, stolen afternoons and shared mornings. Jared and Matt arrived in June, their chaos adding to our chosen family. We hosted dinners, explored Seattle, built traditions that felt permanent.
"Remember when you were scared of this?" Lance asked one night, watching me cook in our kitchen.
"I remember being terrified," I admitted. "But you were patient."
"You were worth waiting for."
November – One Year Later
The entire Greenfield crew descended on Seattle for what Jared had mysteriously dubbed "Reunion Weekend." The official reason was watching Lance play his first NHL home game – he'd been called up permanently in October – but the energy suggested ulterior motives.
"Act normal," Matt hissed as we entered the restaurant he'd chosen for dinner.
"I'm always normal," Jared protested, practically vibrating. "The picture of calm collection."
"You're literally sweating glitter," Rachel observed. "How is that even possible?"
"It's a gift," Jared said primly.
I squeezed Lance's hand under the table, both of us trying not to laugh. The proposal everyone pretended not to know about was clearly imminent.
Dinner progressed with increasing tension. Matt kept patting his pocket, Jared kept "accidentally" positioning his left hand prominently, and the wait staff seemed to be in on whatever was happening.
"So," Matt cleared his throat as dessert arrived. "I wanted to say something."
"Oh God, is this a speech?" Jared's voice pitched high. "I hate speeches. Unless they're about me. Are you speeching about me, Matthew?"
"Jared." Matt stood, pulling him up too. "Shut up for thirty seconds."
"Rude. I'm delightful when I talk—"
Matt kissed him quiet, then dropped to one knee before Jared could restart.
"Oh my God," Jared whispered. "Oh my God, you're kneeling in public. Your knee is on the actual ground."
