Page 61 of The Girlfriend Goal
"Watch me." I kissed her forehead. "I choose you, every day, in every city, through every challenge. Stop running, Rachel. Stay and fight. Choose us."
She looked at me for a long moment, and I saw the war in her eyes. Fear versus hope. Statistics versus possibility. Control versus trust.
Then she kissed me. Not gentle or sweet, but desperate and claiming. All the emotions she couldn't voice poured into the contact. I responded immediately, backing her against the table, trying to prove with touch what words couldn't convey.
"Look, I'm not asking for declarations or promises or whatever," I said, words tumbling out before I could second-guess them. "But maybe we could just see what happens? Keep it casual?"
"Casual," she repeated, like she was testing the word.
"No pressure. No labels. Just..." I gestured helplessly between us. "Whatever this is."
She studied me for a long moment, and I tried not to fidget under her scrutiny. Finally, she said, "There would need to be rules."
Hope flared in my chest. "Okay."
"No public displays. No interfering with each other's schedules or commitments." She ticked off each point on her fingers. "And either of us can end it at any time, no questions asked."
"Deal," I agreed immediately, even though something twisted at the clinical nature of her terms.
"And," she added, "this is just physical. No feelings."
I nodded, already knowing that ship had sailed for me but willing to take whatever she'd give. "Just physical."
Rachel searched my face like she was looking for signs of deception. Whatever she found must have satisfied her because she nodded once, decisively. "Okay."
Chapter 25: Rachel
This new "casual arrangement" with Lance was supposed to be simple. Physical release between two attracted adults with clear boundaries and mutual understanding. What it had become was a special form of torture designed specifically to drive me insane.
A week in, and I'd memorized his class schedule better than my own. Not because I cared—definitely not that—but because avoiding accidental run-ins required strategic planning. The fact that I knew he had team meetings every Tuesday at four and preferred studying in the library's east wing on Thursday nights was purely practical information.
"You're being weird," Jared announced, flopping dramatically across my bed while I attempted to focus on my sports marketing assignment. "Weirder than usual, which is saying something."
"I'm not being weird."
"You literally just smiled at your phone like it held the secrets of the universe."
I shoved the traitorous device under my pillow. "I was reading an email about my internship application."
"Uh-huh." Jared rolled onto his stomach, propping his chin on his hands. "And this internship email just happened to arrive at the exact time Lance usually texts after practice?"
"I don't know Lance's practice schedule," I lied, my face heating.
"Right. Just like I don't know that Matt does this adorable thing where he sticks his tongue out when he'sconcentrating." Jared sighed dramatically. "We're both such terrible liars."
I seized the opportunity to deflect. "Oh? And how would you know about Matt's concentration face?"
"We've been studying together," Jared said, suddenly fascinated by my comforter pattern. "He's surprisingly terrible at statistics. Like, concerningly bad. I'm basically providing a public service by tutoring him."
"How charitable of you."
"I'm a giver," Jared agreed solemnly. "Speaking of which, are you going to tell me why you've been sneaking out at weird hours and coming back with what can only be described as 'sex hair'?"
"I don't know what you’re talking about."
"Rachel Elizabeth Fox, do not even try it." He sat up, fixing me with his best stern expression. "I know your tells. And right now, you're telling me you're getting dicked down on the regular by someone you're pretending not to care about."
I groaned, burying my face in my pillow. "It's complicated."
