Page 14 of The Girlfriend Goal
"Yeah, on my way."
"How'd the meeting go with the soccer queen? Did she eat you alive?"
"It was fine. Productive."
"Productive?" He fell into step beside me. "That's the most boring response possible. Come on, details. Did she insult your intelligence? Question your literacy? Threaten bodily harm?"
"All of the above, actually. But we also planned out the first three weeks of curriculum."
"Holy shit, you actually did work?" He clutched his chest dramatically. "Are you feeling okay? Should I call medical?"
"Fuck off." But I was grinning. "She's not what I expected."
"Oh no." Matt stopped walking. "I know that look."
"What look?"
"The 'I'm intrigued by a girl who doesn't worship me' look. The 'maybe I want something more complicated' look." He grabbed my shoulders. "Lance, buddy, pal, best friend of mine. Do not develop feelings for the one girl on campus who genuinely hates you."
"I don't have feelings. I'm just saying she's interesting. Smart. Passionate about what she does."
"And hot?"
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to. Your face said it." He resumed walking, shaking his head. "This is going to end so badly. Like,Shakespearean tragedybadly. Like,someone's definitely dying in Act Fivebadly."
"It's just a project, Matt. We'll work together, get our grade, go our separate ways."
"Right. And I'm definitely going to settle down and marry one person instead of continuing my tour of Greenfield's eligible singles population."
We reached the arena, the familiar smell of ice and rubber hitting me as we pushed through the doors. This was my world, where everything made sense. Where I knew exactly what was expected of me and how to deliver.
"Just be careful," Matt said as we headed to the locker room. "Girls like Rachel don't do casual. They do real. And you and I both know you're allergic to real."
He wasn't wrong. But as I changed into my practice gear, I kept thinking about the way Rachel had smiled—just for a second—when I'd made her laugh.
There was another meeting coming up onFriday morning. Another chance to prove I was more than the stereotype she'd built in her head.
I just had to figure out why that mattered so much to me.
Chapter 7: Rachel
"So he brought you coffee." Jared was sprawled on my bed, eating my emergency stash of chocolate while I recounted the meeting. "Contributed actual ideas and made you laugh."
"I didn't laugh."
"You just said you smiled."
"For like half a second. It was involuntary." I continued organizing my notes, transferring key points from my laptop to my physical planner.
"This is terrible," Jared announced. "This is a disaster of epic proportions."
"Because he's not a complete waste of space? I'd think you'd be happy I don't have to carry the entire project myself."
"No, because you're starting to see him as a person. Next thing you know, you'll be noticing his eyes or his jawline or those shoulders that could probably bench press me."
"I'm not noticing anything except his surprising competence with youth sports concepts."
