Page 37 of The Girlfriend Goal
"Shit," I told the ceiling. I was in so much trouble.
Chapter 14: Rachel
Death had come for me, and its name was Hangover.
I cracked one eye open to find sunlight streaming through my window like a personal attack. My mouth tasted like something had crawled in there and died, possibly the zombie I'd dressed as last night.
"Morning, sunshine." Jared's voice hit like a sledgehammer. "How's our little party animal?"
"Please kill me," I groaned into my pillow.
"Can't. You have to suffer through your choices like the rest of us." He set something on my nightstand. "Coconut water and aspirin, courtesy of your knight in shining hockey gear."
I forced myself to look. Sure enough, coconut water and a bottle of aspirin sat waiting, along with a protein bar and a note.
"He brought these?"
"About an hour ago. Very concerned about your hydration levels." Jared waggled his eyebrows. "Want to tell me why Lance knows where we live?"
The memories hit in a mortifying montage. Kissing Lance. Puking off a deck. Lance walking me home. Oh god, I'd been that girl—the drunk mess who needed taking care of.
"I'm never drinking again."
"That's what you said after Cinco de Mayo sophomore year." He sat on my bed. "But more importantly, you kissed him again. Matt saw you on the deck. He's very excited. Already planning your wedding."
"There's no wedding."
"Honey, the boy brought you hangover supplies at 8 AM on a Saturday. That's practically a proposal in college years."
I dragged myself upright, downing the aspirin with coconut water. My reflection in the mirror was unfortunate. Smeared zombie makeup, tangled hair, and what appeared to be fake blood on my neck.
"I need to return his jacket," I said, noticing the hockey hoodie draped over my desk chair.
"Sure. That's why you're going to see him. To return clothing." Jared grinned. "It has nothing to do with wanting to thank him properly for last night."
"There will be no thanking. Just professional jacket returning."
"Well, his house is probably empty. Matt stayed at mine last night."
"He what?!"
"Relax, we just talked and cuddled. Okay, there was some kissing, but mostly just talking." He looked dreamy. "Did you know he volunteers at the children's hospital? He's perfect."
"I'm happy for you," I said, meaning it. "But also, gross. He's Lance's best friend."
"And Lance is your... what exactly?"
"Project partner who I accidentally kissed. Twice."
"Accidentally kissed twice." Jared shook his head. "You're impossible. Go shower. You smell like regret and cheap beer."
Thirty minutes later, I stood outside the hockey house clutching Lance's hoodie like a shield. The smart thing would beto leave it on the porch. Ring the doorbell and run. Mail it back with no return address.
Instead, I knocked.
"It's open," Lance's voice called from inside.
I found him in the kitchen, wearing shorts and nothing else, making what looked like the world's most complicated smoothie. The morning light did unfair things to his muscle definition.
