Page 73 of The Girlfriend Goal
"Everything's business when money's involved. Your scholarship, my internship, us. It's all transactions when you strip away the pretty words."
"Us isn't a transaction," Lance said fiercely. "Whatever this is between us, it's not some equation you can solve by ignoring it."
"Watch me," I said, but it came out weak.
"You already tried that, remember? How'd that work out?" He gestured between us. "We're here, having this conversation, because pretending we don't care about each other is exhausting both of us."
He was right. I hated that he was right.
"I don't know how to do this," I admitted. "I don't know how to want you and want my career and not have them conflict."
"Maybe they don't have to." He reached out, telegraphing the movement so I could stop him if I wanted. I didn't. His hand cupped my cheek, thumb brushing away a tear I hadn't realized had fallen. "Maybe I can just be the guy who celebrates when you succeed and holds you when it's hard and reminds you to eat during finals week."
"That's not casual," I whispered.
"No," he agreed. "It's not."
We stood there, his hand on my face, my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. Every instinct screamed to run, to rebuild my walls before he could get closer. But I was so tired of running.
"I'm scared," I admitted.
"Me too," he said, which somehow helped. "But I'm more scared of missing this chance because we were both too stubborn to try."
I leaned into his touch, just for a moment, allowing myself to imagine what "trying" might look like. Lance supporting my dreams instead of competing with them. Me letting someone in without losing myself. Us, together, as more than a transaction or casual arrangement.
"The interview's next Friday," I said.
"I know."
"If I get it, I'm taking it. No matter what happens between us."
"I know that too." He smiled softly. "I wouldn't expect anything else from the woman who color-codes her color-coding system."
"Okay, I did that once, but it was finals week."
His laugh rumbled through his chest, and I realized how close we'd gotten. Close enough to kiss, if I just leaned in a little more.
"Oh for fuck's sake, just kiss already! Some of us are trying to have athletic sex upstairs and your sexual tension is so loud it's distracting."
We jumped apart to find Jared hanging over the upstairs railing, hair wild and wearing what was definitely Matt's shirt.
"Jared!" I yelled.
"What? You were taking forever and Matt's getting impatient."
"Too much information!" Lance called up.
"Like you two aren't about to defile that kitchen," Jared shot back. "Just please wipe down any surfaces after. We eat there."
He disappeared back into Matt's room with a door slam that echoed through the cabin.
Lance and I looked at each other, the moment thoroughly shattered but somehow lighter for it.
"Your best friend is a menace," he said.
"Your roommate's corrupting him."
"Pretty sure it's mutual corruption." He stepped back, giving me space. "So, what now?"
