Page 27 of The Girlfriend Goal

"Absolutely not," I said for the third time, but Lance had deployed what I'd secretly termed his ‘puppy eyes of doom’ and my resolve was wavering.

We were in my apartment, ostensibly so he could return a textbook but really because neither of us was very good at staying away from each other. He'd brought up the ski trip casually, like it was no big deal, but I could see the hope in his eyes.

"Come on, Rachel. It's just a few days. Matt and Jared will be there as buffers." He was using his reasonable voice, the one that always made me want to agree to whatever he was saying. "Better than staying here alone."

"I have plenty to do here," I lied. "Internship prep, getting ahead on—"

"Bullshit," he interrupted. "You're already ahead on everything. You're just scared."

"I'm not scared," I protested, even though he was absolutely right.

The thought of spending multiple days in close quarters with Lance, pretending we were just friends with benefits, terrified me.

Our careful boundaries worked because we could retreat to our separate spaces. A ski cabin offered no such escape.

"Then prove it," he challenged. "Come with us. Separate rooms, no pressure. And look, I don't want you spending break alone," he said quietly, and the sincerity in his voice made my chest ache. "That's all this is. Friends looking out for each other."

Friends. That word was starting to feel like a lie we both desperately wanted to believe.

Jared chose that moment to burst through the door, because privacy was a foreign concept to him. "Oh good, you're both here. I need opinions on ski outfits because apparently Matthew thinks neon is 'too much' for the slopes."

"It's a safety hazard," Matt said, following him in. "You'll blind people."

"I'll look fabulous," Jared countered. "Rachel, tell him I'll look fabulous."

"You always look fabulous," I said automatically, then noticed how Matt's face softened at my words, like he agreed but couldn't say it out loud.

"See?" Jared preened. "This is why you're my best friend. You appreciate vision." He paused, looking between Lance and me. "Wait, why do you two look serious? Are we interrupting something? Were you about to hook up? Because we can leave."

"We're not—" I started at the same time Lance said, "She won't come to Vermont."

Jared gasped dramatically. "Rachel Fox, you are not abandoning me to deal with these hockey heathens alone."

"You literally just invited yourself to their cabin," I pointed out.

"Semantics." He plopped down beside me, putting on his most persuasive expression. "Come on, Rachel. When's the next time we'll get a free ski vacation? Plus, I need you there for emotional support when Matthew inevitably tries to teach me to ski and I end up face-first in a snowbank."

"I would never let you face-plant," Matt protested, looking genuinely offended. "I'd catch you."

The soft sincerity in his voice made Jared blush, and I filed that away for later interrogation. But their obvious attraction gave me an idea.

"Fine," I heard myself saying. "I'll come, but I have conditions."

Lance's face lit up like I'd just agreed to marry him, and I had to look away from the intensity of his joy.

"Whatever you want," he said quickly.

"Separate rooms," I said firmly. "No weird couple stuff. This is just friends hanging out."

"Of course," Lance agreed, though something flickered in his eyes.

"And Jared and I get our own bathroom," I added, because I'd lived with boys before and knew better.

"Deal," Matt said. "The cabin has like four bathrooms anyway."

"Your family has a cabin with four bathrooms?" Jared asked, momentarily distracted from ski outfit planning.

Matt shrugged. "My dad overcompensates for emotional absence with real estate."

An awkward silence fell as we all processed that revelation. Then Jared clapped his hands together.

"Well, this is going to be the best dysfunctional family vacation ever. I'll start packing. Rachel, you'll need layers. Lots of layers. Vermont is cold and these hockey boys probably keep the thermostat at arctic temperatures because they're part polar bear."

The next few days passed in a blur of preparation and second-guessing. I packed and repacked, debating every item like it held the key to maintaining professional distance from Lance. Jared's running commentary on my wardrobe choices didn't help.

"You cannot bring that," he said, holding up my rattiest old t-shirt. "It's a crime against fashion." He tossed it aside and pulled out a soft sweater I'd forgotten I owned. "Now this says 'I'm casually sexy without trying.'"

"I don't want to be casually sexy."

"Lies," Jared sang. "You want Lance to see you in this and forget how to form words."

"That's exactly what I don't want," I protested, but I packed the sweater anyway.

The drive to Vermont took six hours, which meant six hours of carefully orchestrated seating, with Jared and I in the back, Lance driving, and Matt controlling music.

There were snack negotiations, and bathroom breaks that felt like military operations.

I spent most of it pretending to sleep while actually hyperaware of every time Lance glanced at me in the rearview mirror.

"I spy with my little eye," Jared said somewhere around hour four, "something sexual tension-y."

"That's not how the game works," Matt said.

"I'm modernizing it." Jared continued cheerfully, "It's black and white and pining all over."

"I will turn this car around," Lance threatened.

"No, you won't," Jared said confidently. "You want Rachel at that cabin too badly to—ow!"

I'd elbowed him, but the damage was done. Lance's hands tightened on the steering wheel, and the rest of the drive passed in loaded silence broken only by Matt's increasingly aggressive playlist choices.

The cabin, when we finally arrived, was not what I'd expected. ‘Cabin’ implied something rustic and quaint. This was more like a small mansion that happened to be made of logs, all soaring ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking pristine ski slopes.

"Holy shit," Jared breathed. "I've been dating beneath my tax bracket."

"We're not dating," Matt said automatically, then blushed furiously. "I mean—"

"Kitchen's through there," Lance interrupted, saving Matt from further embarrassment. "Bedrooms upstairs. Rachel and Jared can take the two on the left. They share a bathroom."

I nodded, grabbing my bag before he could offer to carry it. The last thing I needed was chivalrous Lance making this harder than it already was.

The room was beautiful, all warm wood and soft furnishings, with a view of snow-covered mountains that looked like a postcard. I could hear Lance moving around in the room next door, separated by what seemed like a dangerously thin wall.

"This is nice," Jared said, poking his head in. "Very romantic. Perfect for 'just friends' to pine through walls like you're in a Jane Austen novel."

"I'm not pining."

"Sure." He flopped on my bed. "So, what's the plan? Maintain icy distance while eye-fucking across the dinner table? Accidentally brush hands while reaching for the salt and combust from sexual tension?"

"The plan," I said firmly, "is to have a nice, normal vacation with friends. No drama, no complications."

A knock interrupted me. Lance stood in the doorway, and I tried not to notice how good he looked in his worn jeans and thermal shirt.

"Thought you might want to see the sunset from the deck," he said. "It's pretty spectacular."

I should’ve said no. Should’ve maintained the distance I desperately needed. Instead, I found myself following him onto a deck that overlooked a winter wonderland painted in shades of pink and gold by the setting sun.

"It's beautiful," I said softly.

"Yeah," Lance agreed, but he was looking at me when he said it.

This was going to be a very long week.