Page 33 of The Girlfriend Goal
"I'm not discussing this."
"So itwasspectacular." He clapped his hands, sending blood spattering. "I knew it. The tension between you two could power a small city. When's the wedding? Can I be your bridesman? I look amazing in jewel tones."
"There's no wedding. There's no relationship. There was just a momentary lapse in judgment."
"Momentary lapses don't require hiding behind foliage."
I sighed, surrendering to the inevitable. "Fine. We kissed once, in the gym. It meant nothing."
"Oh honey." Jared's expression softened. "You're a terrible liar."
"It can't mean anything. He's everything I've sworn to avoid. Hockey player, player-player, completely wrong for my five-year plan."
"Ah yes, the sacred five-year plan." He pulled out my planner, flipping to the laminated life goals page. "Let's see. Graduate summa cum laude—check. Get prestigious internship—pending. Start career in sports psychology—on track. Where exactly does it say 'Die alone because hockey players are scary'?"
"It doesn't say that."
"Might as well." He tossed the planner aside. "You know what your problem is? You're so focused on not becoming your brother that you're missing the chance to be yourself." He sat beside me, serious now. "Ryan's story was tragic. But it's not your story. Lance isn't the coach who pulled the scholarship. And he’s definitely not your psycho ex, Brad. Lance is just a guy who makes you smile at your phone when you think no one's looking."
"I don't—"
"You literally just did it."
I looked down at my phone, where Lance's name had appeared with a text. "Traitor," I told the device.
"What's he saying?"
"None of your business."
"Rachel!"
"Fine." I opened the message. "'Good luck at your game tomorrow. I'll be in section B with the loudest signs. Fair warning: Matt made them and they're embarrassing.'"
"He's coming to your game?"
"For the project. To observe athletic performance in different contexts."
"Right. The project." Jared took my phone, scrolling up. "The project that requires texts about coffee orders and inside jokes about refrigerators?"
I grabbed it back. "Stop snooping."
"Stop lying to yourself." He returned to my zombie makeup with renewed vigor. "You like him. He clearly likes you. The only thing standing in your way is your own stubbornness."
"And the fact that he's hooked up with half the campus."
"Past tense. Has he been with anyone since you started your 'project'?"
I thought about it. The usual gossip about Lance's weekend conquests had been notably absent lately.
"That doesn't mean anything."
"It means everything." Jared stepped back to admire his work. "There. You're perfectly undead. Now let's talk about what you're wearing under the jersey."
"Clothes?"
"Boring. This is Halloween. The one night you're allowed to be someone else." He dove into his costume collection. "What about this?It's athletic wear."
"That's a sports bra and tiny shorts. It's underwear with aspirations."
