Page 86 of The Girlfriend Goal
"I should head home," she said as dessert arrived. "Early practice tomorrow."
"I'll walk youto your car," I offered immediately.
Outside, the evening had turned cool. Rachel wrapped her arms around herself, and I resisted offering my jacket.
"Tonight meant a lot," I said as we reached her car. "You made me believe I could do it. That my story mattered beyond my father's manipulation."
"It does matter." She looked up at me, eyes soft. "You're going to help so many people by being open about this."
"I meant what I said in there. I couldn't have done it without you. I know, you need time. I'm respecting that." I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from touching her. "Just let me thank you properly, for everything."
She bit her lip, clearly warring with herself. Then she rose on her toes and kissed me, the contact burning through me.
"You're welcome," she whispered, then got in her car before I could respond.
I watched her drive away. My phone buzzed with texts from teammates, media requests, and one from an NHL scout saying my press conference only increased their interest.
But all I could think about was the ghost of Rachel's lips on my skin and the promise that she wasn't giving up on us.
Chapter 33: Rachel
The email arrived on a mundane Tuesday morning while I sat in the campus café, ostensibly reviewing game footage but actually watching Lance help a freshman with stats homework two tables over. His patient explanation, complete with hand gestures and hockey analogies, made my chest ache with familiar want.
Congratulations! We are pleased to offer you a summer internship position with the Seattle Storm...
I stared at the screen, reading it three times before the words sank in. Everything I'd worked for, sacrificed for, was right there in digital black and white. The opportunity to learn from the best in women's professional basketball, to build the career that would lift my family from poverty, to prove that a woman from a struggling neighborhood could make it in sports management.
So why did my first instinct involve looking at Lance?
"Oh my God!" Jared's shriek made half the café jump. He'd been reading over my shoulder, apparently. "You got it. You got Seattle!"
His volume drew Lance's attention. Our eyes met across the space, and somehow he knew. His face transformed – pride, joy, and something that looked suspiciously like loss flashing in quick succession before settling on a genuine smile.
He made his way over as Jared continued his celebration, which now included an impromptu dance that mortified nearby patrons.
"Seattle?" Lance asked softly.
I nodded, still processing. "Four months, starting in June."
"That's incredible, Rachel. You deserve this."
"This calls for champagne," Jared declared. "Or at least the finest boxed wine the corner store offers."
"It's ten in the morning," I pointed out.
"Mimosas then. Matt!" He spotted his boyfriend entering the café. "Rachel got Seattle. We're day drinking to celebrate."
Matt's face went through a similar progression to Lance's – quick calculation of what this meant for his best friend, then determined enthusiasm. "That's amazing. When do you leave?"
"Right after graduation." It felt simultaneously too soon and not soon enough.
"Perfect timing," Lance said, voice carefully neutral. "Clean break."
The phrase stung more than it should have. Clean break. Like we were something that needed breaking.
"I should tell my parents," I said, needing escape from the weight of his acceptance. "They'll be thrilled."
"Go," Jared made shooing motions. "We'll plan proper celebrations for tonight. With alcohol and possibly karaoke if I can convince Matt that his dignity is less important than my entertainment."
