Page 13 of The Girlfriend Goal
"You color-code your color-coding system. You have backup pens for your backup pens. You arrived at this meeting so early you probably watched the sun rise over your perfectly organized folders."
"Twenty-three minutes isn't that early."
"You timed it?" He laughed, a genuine sound that did something annoying to my stomach. "Of course you timed it. Do you time everything?"
"Efficiency is—"
"Power. Yeah, I'm getting that." He leaned back in his chair, studying me. "When's the last time you did something inefficient? Just for fun?"
The question echoed what Coach Chen and Jared had asked me.
"Fun is subjective," I said stiffly.
"That's the most depressing answer I've ever heard." He checked the time on his laptop. "Speaking of which, I have practice in thirty minutes."
I started packing up my materials, each folder returning to its designated spot in my bag. "And Fletcher? Bring actual research next time. One poorly printed article doesn't count."
"Hey, I contributed plenty of ideas today."
"You did," I admitted. "But ideas need support. Evidence. You can't just wing an entire semester project."
"Watch me." He stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Kidding. I'll do the reading. Scout's honor."
"Were you even a Boy Scout?"
"Hockey was my only extracurricular. Well, that and disappointing my father." He said it lightly, but something flickered in his expression. "See you Friday. Thanks for not throwing coffee in my face."
"My roommate, Jared, suggested hot coffee specifically."
"He sounds terrifying."
"He's protective. And he has a very detailed memory of every girl who's cried in our apartment after getting ghosted by a hockey player."
The lightness faded from his face. "I don't ghost people. I'm always upfront about what I can offer."
"Which is nothing."
"Which is honesty." He met my eyes steadily. "That's more than a lot of people give."
Chapter 6: Lance
I left the café feeling oddly unsettled. The meeting had gone better than expected—no bloodshed, minimal insults, actual productive work accomplished. But Rachel was getting under my skin in ways I hadn't anticipated.
It wasn't just that she was beautiful, though she was. It was the way her mind worked—sharp and organized but passionate too.
My phone buzzed with the texts I'd been ignoring. Ashley wanting to know if I was free tonight. Brittany asking about the party on Saturday. Chloe sending pictures that definitely weren't meant for public viewing.
Usually, I'd already be making plans. Setting up the easy hookup, the uncomplicated fun, the kind of interaction where everyone knew the rules and no one got hurt.
Instead, I found myself deleting the messages.
Rachel's words echoed, "Just because you warn someone you're going to be disappointing doesn't make it less disappointing."
Maybe she had a point. Maybe I'd been using honesty as a shield, thinking it absolved me of responsibility for the aftermath. Yeah, I warned them I wasn't boyfriend material. But I also chose girls I knew would hope to change my mind, chose the ones who looked at me like I might be different with them.
It was easier than risking anything real. Easier than letting someone see the parts of me that weren't so confident. The kid who still heard his father's voice saying he'd neveramount to anything off the ice. The student who broke into a cold sweat when asked to read aloud.
"Lance." Matt's voice broke through my spiral. He was jogging across the quad, practice gear in hand. "You coming to practice or what?"
