Page 90 of The Girlfriend Goal
"Then I'll be your friend who supports your dreams and celebrates your successes and tries not to die inside when you date other people." His honesty was brutal. "But I'll always hope for more."
"That's not fair to you."
"No," he agreed. "But apparently I'm a masochist when it comes to you."
We reached my building. I should’ve said goodnight, gone inside, maintained the boundaries I'd set. "Want to come up? Just to talk. I promise."
Famous last words.
We made it approximately five minutes before I was in his lap, kissing him like the world was ending. His hands tangled in my hair, and I forgot every reason this was a bad idea.
"Seattle," he mumbled against my lips. "You're leaving."
"Not tonight," I countered, pulling his shirt off.
"Rachel, wait." He caught my hands. "I can't do casual with you anymore. I'm in too deep."
"I know." I kissed him again, softer. "I'm not asking for casual."
"What are you asking for?"
I didn't have an answer, so I kissed him instead, pouring all my confusion and want and fear into the contact. He responded with equal desperation, like he was trying to memorize me.
Later, wrapped in his arms with moonlight painting patterns on my skin, I tried to find words.
"I love you," I whispered to the darkness. "But I don't know if that's enough."
His arms tightened around me. "It's enough for tonight."
We didn't talk about tomorrow, about Seattle, about the expiration date hanging over us. We just held each other and pretended that love could be simple.
In the morning, he was gone, leaving only a note:Couldn't watch you regret this. I love you too, always.
I clutched the paper and finally let myself cry – for what we had, what we could have been, and what I was choosing to leave behind.
Chapter 34: Lance
The Frozen Four championship arena thrummed with electric energy. Twenty thousand fans packed the stands, their roar almost deafening during warm-ups. NHL scouts lined the press box, tablets and notebooks at the ready. ESPN's cameras captured every angle.
And all I could think about was the heart emoji Rachel had sent me. It had rewired my entire nervous system. Rachel had never used a heart emoji before. Not once in months of texting. I'd screenshot it like a lovesick teenager, staring at that tiny pink symbol as if it might reveal the secrets of the universe.
"Dude, you're gonna burn a hole through your phone." Matt slapped my shoulder, already half-dressed in his gear. "She'll still be there after we win."
"I know." I tucked the phone safely in my bag. "But the heart emoji, man."
"Oh my God, you're pathetic." But he was grinning. "Jared sent me like fifteen texts about her debate over which emoji to use. Apparently there was a whole committee consultation with her teammates."
The idea of Rachel agonizing over emoji selection made my chest tight with affection. "Your boyfriend is a gossipy traitor."
"My boyfriend is a treasure trove of insider information." Matt's grin turned wicked. "He also mentioned Rachel's been wearing your practice jersey to sleep."
I fumbled my stick, nearly dropping it. "What?"
"The one you left at her place last week. Jared found it under her pillow."
"That's..."
"Adorable? Pathetic? Exactly the kind of thing you'd do if you had one of her jerseys?"
