Page 81 of The Girlfriend Goal
"You're not a coward." His voice was rough. "Want to tell me what's really going on?"
"Seeing Brad every day, having him text constantly, offer networking connections... it brought back everything. Howsmall he made me feel, how I almost gave up my dreams for someone who only saw me as an accessory to his success."
Lance stepped closer but didn't touch me. "I'm not him."
"Logically, I know that. But my body goes into panic mode, and suddenly I'm that woman again who thought love meant sacrificing everything."
"Rachel." The way he said my name made me look up. "I have never, not once, asked you to sacrifice anything for me. I've sat through your interview prep, celebrated your internship, and supported your dreams even when they lead you across the country. How can I prove I'm different?"
"You already have," I admitted. "That's what terrifies me. Brad took two years to show his true colors. What if—"
"What if I'm exactly who I've shown you I am?" He interrupted gently. "What if there's no hidden agenda, no manipulation waiting to spring? What if I just like you? You run at the first sign of trouble, but I'm still here. After hot tubs and ski trips and you literally fleeing my bed when things get too real. I'm still here."
"I miss you," I confessed, the words barely audible. "I miss us, whatever we were."
"We were everything," he said simply. "And we could be again, if you'd stop running long enough to let it happen."
I kissed him then, pouring days of regret and longing into the contact. He responded immediately, pulling me against him like he'd been starving for it.
"I'm sorry," I whispered against his lips. "I'm so sorry for pushing you away over and over again."
"Stop apologizing and let me take you home," he murmured back.
I shook my head. "Not tonight. I need to figure out how to stop self-sabotaging before I hurt you again."
His frustrated groan almost broke my resolve, but he stepped back. "I'm not giving up on us," he warned. "Fair warning."
"Good," I said, meaning it. "I don't want you to."
Back at my apartment, I found Jared stress-baking, which meant the kitchen looked like a flour bomb had detonated.
"Don't even start," he said, aggressively whisking something. "Matt texted that Lance seemed extra broody at practice, and I've been anxiety-baking ever since."
The doorbell interrupted him. We exchanged confused looks – it was past eleven.
I opened the door to find Matt standing there, looking uncharacteristically nervous.
"Is Jared here?" He shifted his weight. "I know it's late, but—"
"Oh my God, it's like you summoned him with your thirst," Jared hissed from behind me. "What could possibly be so urgent that—"
Matt stepped forward and kissed him. Not a gentle, testing kiss, but a full-on, movie-worthy kiss.
I scrambled out of the splash zone, watching wide-eyed as my best friend went from shocked to responding enthusiastically.
When they finally broke apart, Jared looked dazed.
"I'm tired of pretending," Matt said simply. "Tired of acting like our hookups don't mean anything. Tired of watching you flirt with other guys at parties to make me jealous."
"I don't flirt to make you—" Jared's protest died as Matt raised an eyebrow. "Okay, maybe a little. But only because you're impossible to read. One minute you're in my bed whispering beautiful things, the next you're calling me 'bro' and high-fiving me like I'm one of your hockey teammates."
"Because I didn't think you wanted more." Matt ran a hand through his hair. "You literally told me you don't do relationships."
"I told you thatafteryou said you were 'having fun keeping things casual'!"
"I only said that because you seemed allergic to any mention of feelings."
I cleared my throat. "Should I leave my own apartment, or...?"
