Page 31 of The Girlfriend Goal
This was nothing like the careful, calculated hookups I usually orchestrated. This was messy and desperate and perfect. Her nails scraped against my scalp, and I groaned into her mouth, pulling her closer despite the awkward angle on the gym mat.
"Wait," she gasped, breaking away.
I froze immediately, hands still tangled in her hair. "Shit. Sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"
"We shouldn't have." She sat up, putting necessary distance between us. "We can't do that."
"Why not?"
"Because!" She gestured between us. "Because I have plans that don't involve getting distracted by hockey players. Because you go through girls like game tape. Because—"
"Because you're scared," I said. "You're terrified that this might be something real."
"There's no 'this.' We got caught up in post-workout endorphins. It's basic biology."
"That's bullshit and you know it."
She stood, grabbing her water bottle with shaking hands. "I'm leaving. We'll pretend this never happened. Go back to being professional project partners who barely tolerate each other."
She practically ran for the door, leaving me sitting on a gym mat with my heart pounding, cock throbbing, and lips still tingling from the best kiss of my life.
"So we're just going to ignore it?" I called after her.
She paused at the door, not turning around. "There's nothing to ignore. Goodnight, Lance."
The door closed with a definitive click, leaving me alone with the echo of her denial and the taste of her on my lips.
I flopped back on the mat, staring at the ceiling. "That went well," I told the fluorescent lights.
My phone buzzed. Matt:"Where are you? Also, I think I'm in love with Jared. Also, we're out of milk."
I typed back:"Gym. That's great. Buy your own milk."
Matt:"The gym? At 1 AM? Is this about Rachel? Did something happen? Oh my god did you kiss her?"
Sometimes I hated how well he knew me.
Me:"Nothing happened. Going home now."
Matt:"Liar. Something definitely happened. Your texts have guilty energy. Spill immediately or I'm calling Jared to get Rachel's side."
I stared at my phone, debating. But what was I supposed to say? That I'd kissed Rachel in the campus gym and it had felt like everything clicked into place? That she'd kissed me back like her life depended on it, then ran away insisting it meantnothing? That I was sitting on a gym mat at 1 AM, completely wrecked by a woman who claimed she couldn't stand me?
Me:"Talk when I get home."
Matt:"I'll have wine ready."
Me:"I don't drink wine."
Matt:"You do tonight. This is a wine conversation. I can feel it."
He wasn't wrong. This was definitely a wine conversation. Maybe a whole bottle kind of conversation.
I finally hauled myself up, gathering my stuff. The gym felt different now, charged with the memory of what had just happened. What had allegedly never happened, according to Rachel.
But I could still feel her lips on mine, still hear the way she'd gasped my name, still see the moment before our kiss when her eyes had dropped to my mouth and I'd known, with absolute certainty, that she wanted this as much as I did.
"Never happened," I muttered, heading for the door. "Right."
