Page 36 of The Girlfriend Goal
"I should go," I said weakly.
"Probably."
But neither of us moved.
"This is a bad idea," I whispered.
"The worst," he agreed, stepping closer.
And then we were kissing again, because apparently my traitorous body had staged a coup against my brain. He pressed me against the railing, hands gentle but insistent, kissing me like he was trying to prove a point.
I was vaguely aware that I was proving his point by kissing him back, by threading my fingers through his hair and pulling him closer. But rational thought had evacuated the premises, leaving only want, need, and the taste of Lance on my lips.
"Rachel," he murmured against my mouth. "Come home with me."
Reality crashed back in. "No, I can't. You'll add me to your list as just another conquest. Another girl who thought she was different."
"Youaredifferent."
"They all think that."
"Well, they weren't you." He pulled back, eyes serious behind the fake glasses. "I haven't been with anyone since we started studying together. Haven't wanted to."
"That doesn't mean anything."
"Doesn't it?"
Before I could respond, my stomach made an executive decision about the beer and Jared's pre-party shots. I lurched away from Lance, barely making it to the edge of the deck before everything came up.
"Oh god," I groaned. "Kill me."
"Hey, it's okay." His hands were gentle, holding my hair back. "Everyone's been there."
"This is so embarrassing."
"Nah. Last year Morrison puked on the dean's shoes. That was embarrassing. This is just Halloween." He rubbed my back in soothing circles. "Better? Come on, let's get you water."
He led me inside, keeping a protective arm around me. He found water and made sure I drank it. Then he checked in with Jared, who was too busy destroying everyone at beer pong to leave. Through it all, Lance was patient, kind, completely different from Brad's disgust whenever I'd shown any imperfection.
"I should go home," I said eventually.
"I'll walk you." He was already texting Matt. "Please, let me make sure you get home safe."
I was too tired and embarrassed to argue. The walk was quiet, Lance keeping pace with my unsteady steps. At my building, he insisted on walking me to my door.
He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "For what it's worth, you're a very cute zombie."
"Shut up."
"Feel better, Fox. Drink water. Text me in the morning so I know you survived."
He left with a small wave, and I watched him go, heart doing complicated things in my chest.
Inside, I collapsed on my bed fully clothed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed.
Lance:"Get some sleep. You have a game tomorrow. I’ll be in Section B with embarrassing signs."
I smiled at my phone like an idiot. Like a girl who was falling for a hockey player despite every warning sign.Like someone whose carefully constructed plans were crumbling around her.
