Page 35 of The Girlfriend Goal
"Just basic decency." But Matt was smiling now. "I like the costume. Very dead."
"That's the goal. What are you supposed to be?"
"Sexy referee. Lance said it was too on the nose, but I think it works." He did a little spin. "See? I even have a whistle."
"Please never blow that whistle," I begged.
"Don't kink shame," Jared said. "I might like whistles."
"Noted," Matt grinned. "Want to play beer pong? I promise to be on your team so Brad doesn't come back."
They wandered off toward the game, leaving me to navigate the party alone. I grabbed a beer, then another, trying to settle the anxiety crawling under my skin. Every tall figure made me tense, wondering if it was Lance, which was ridiculous. I didn't want to see him. We were maintaining professional distance. The kiss had been a mistake.
I definitely didn't scan every room I entered. I absolutely didn't check the back deck twice. I certainly didn't feel disappointed when he wasn't there.
"Looking for someone?" A voice behind me made me jump.
I turned to find Lance in possibly the most ridiculous costume I'd ever seen—full professor regalia, complete with tweed jacket, fake glasses, and a name tag reading "Dr. Sexy, PhD in you."
"That's terrible," I said.
"Matt made the name tag." He adjusted his glasses, which somehow made him more attractive. "You look..."
"Dead?"
"I was going to say beautiful, but sure, dead works too." He moved closer, and I caught his scent—no alcohol, just that pine shampoo. "Didn't expect to see you here. Want to get some air? It's loud in here."
I should’ve said no, should’ve maintained the distance I'd carefully constructed. Instead, I said, "Yeah, okay."
He led me to the back deck, which was miraculously empty except for a couple making out in the corner. We leaned against the railing, carefully not touching.
"So," he said. "We're really going to pretend it didn't happen?"
"It was a mistake. Just post-workout adrenaline. Temporary insanity."
"Right. Temporary insanity that made you kiss me like the world was ending," he said. "Like you'd been thinking about it as long as I have."
"You’ve been thinking about kissing me?"
He turned to face me fully. "You think I show up to study sessions for the riveting conversation about cognitive behavioraltherapy? I show up because watching you explain concepts you're passionate about is the hottest thing I've ever seen. Because you make me want to be better at everything, not just hockey. Because that kiss was the first real thing I've felt in years of carefully controlled bullshit."
"Lance—"
"I know you're scared. I know I don't fit your plan. I know my reputation is shit." He stepped closer. "But I also know you felt what I felt in that gym. You can't fake that kind of chemistry."
"Chemistry fades, but plans last."
"Plans change all the time."
"Mine don't."
"Then make room in them," he said simply. "For someone who thinks your ambition is sexy, not cute. For someone who sees how brilliant you are and wants to watch you conquer the world. For someone who's liked you since you yelled at me in that locker room."
"You don’t like me."
"Don’t I?"
Inside, the party raged on, but out here it was just us and the truth I'd been avoiding.
