Page 67 of The Girlfriend Goal
"Hockey players don't think," I said instead. "We just hit things with sticks."
"Mm." She padded to the coffee maker, and I absolutely did not watch the way her sleep shorts rode up when she reached for a mug. "That explains so much about your study habits."
"My study habits that you thoroughly corrupted?" I couldn't help the grin. "Pretty sure I had better focus before you started 'helping' me."
She turned, coffee in hand, trying to look stern but fighting a smile. "That's revisionist history. You could barely get through a paragraph without—"
"Without you distracting me with your pen chewing and hair twirling and general existence?"
"I do not twirl my hair," she protested.
"You absolutely do. When you're concentrating really hard, you wrap it around your finger and—" I demonstrated, which earned me an eye roll.
"Stalker."
"Observer," I corrected. "It's a hockey thing. Read the opposition."
"I'm the opposition now?"
Before I could answer, Matt stumbled in looking like he'd lost a fight with his pillow.
"Why are people awake?" he groaned, making a beeline for the coffee. "It's vacation."
"It's 8 AM," Rachel pointed out.
"Exactly. Vacation." He squinted at us suspiciously. "Why do you two look weird? Were you having a moment? Did I interrupt a moment?"
"There was no moment," Rachel said quickly.
"We were discussing her hair-twirling habits," I added, which earned me a death glare from Rachel and a knowing look from Matt.
"Right." Matt poured coffee with the coordination of someone still mostly asleep. "Where's Jared?"
"Still sleeping, like a normal person on vacation," Rachel said pointedly.
Twenty minutes later, we'd been joined by a dramatically entrance-making Jared, who swept into the kitchen wearing what could only be described as an avant-garde interpretation of ski wear.
"Good morning, snow bunnies." He struck a pose. "Thoughts on the ensemble?"
"You look like a highlighter had a baby with a disco ball," Matt said, then immediately looked like he regretted speaking.
"Exactly the aesthetic I was going for," Jared beamed. "Maximum visibility meets maximum glamour. Safety first, fashion always."
"You're going to blind someone," Rachel said fondly.
"Jealous of my brilliance," Jared diagnosed, stealing a piece of bacon from the plate I was assembling. "So what's the plan? Please tell me it involves Lance teaching Rachel to ski while Matt films me falling dramatically down the bunny slope."
"I already know how to ski," Rachel said.
"Since when?" I asked, surprised.
"Since my brother taught me when I was twelve." Something flickered across her face at the mention of her brother. "We used to go every winter before..."
She trailed off, and I wanted to ask before what, but the shuttered look in her eyes warned me off. Jared, with his best friend telepathy, smoothly changed the subject.
"Well, I definitely don't know how to ski, so someone's going to have to teach me." He batted his eyelashes at Matt."Someone patient and strong and capable of catching me when I inevitably face-plant."
Matt choked on his coffee. "I could. I mean, if you want—"
