Page 19 of The Girlfriend Goal
"I'll see what I can do."
As the kids filtered out, Mrs. Chen approached with tears in her eyes. "I've never seen Marcus participate like that. He's been coming here for months, just sitting in the corner. What did you do?"
"Just listened," I said, uncomfortable with the praise.
"Well, whatever you did, please keep doing it. These kids need positive role models more than you know."
Rachel and I packed up in comfortable silence, the usual tension between us replaced by shared accomplishment. We'd actually worked well together, building off each other's strengths without the usual sniping.
"You were good with them," she said as we headed to the parking lot. "Really good. Especially Marcus."
"Thanks. You too. That breathing exercise was clever, making it a competition."
"Kids respond better to challenges than instructions." She paused by her car. "Marcus really connected with you."
"I know what it's like to carry anger that's not really about hockey." The admission slipped out before I could stop it.
She tilted her head. "Your dad?"
"Among other things." I shifted my bag, suddenly feeling exposed. "Anyway, I'll email Coach Stevens about the sponsorship program tonight."
"That's really nice of you."
"It's not nice. It's necessary. Kid's got talent. Be a waste to let it die because of money."
She looked like she wanted to say something else, but settled for, "I'll see you Thursday?"
"Yeah. Thursday."
I watched her drive away, then sat in my truck for a while, thinking about Marcus and anger and the way Rachel had looked at me when she'd said "this is better." Like maybe I wasn't exactly who she'd thought I was.
The drive home was quiet, no music, just me and thoughts I usually tried to avoid. Helping Marcus had felt good in a way that scoring goals hadn't lately. Like maybe I had something to offer beyond a decent slap shot.
My phone buzzed with a text as I pulled into the driveway.
Rachel:"Thanks again for today. Marcus needed someone who understood. You made a difference."
I stared at the message longer than necessary, then typed back:"We both did. Good team."
Three dots appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again.
Rachel:"Yeah. We are."
Two words that shouldn't have made my chest feel warm. But as I headed inside, Matt's interrogation about where I'd been barely registered. I was too busy replaying the way Rachel had said "this is better" and wondering if she was starting to see me as more than just another entitled hockey player.
Chapter 9: Rachel
The library at 11 PM was my sanctuary. Fourth floor, back corner, behind the philosophy section that no one except desperate grad students ever visited.
What it usually didn't have was Lance Fletcher.
I stopped short at the end of the aisle, watching him hunched over a textbook like it had personally offended his entire family. His usual easy confidence was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he gripped a highlighter like a weapon, jaw clenched as he dragged it across the page in aggressive strokes.
I should’ve backed away. This was my space, my time, and the last thing I needed was to spend more hours with someone who made my brain feel fuzzy.
But something about the defeated slump of his shoulders made me pause. I recognized that posture. It was the same one my brother Ryan used to have during homework time, back when he'd still tried to care about school.
"That highlighter do something to offend you?"
