Page 114 of The Girlfriend Zone

She smiles as she pets Boo, who pokes his head out from under the cover. “You do?” she asks, like she already knows the answer.

“So much.” There’s a pause, then I ask, “Nice to have a quiet house, huh?”

“It was bliss. Not once did they argue about their feelings—except over who gets fed first and which dogs they hate on walks.”

I laugh, leaning closer and resting a hand on her hip. She responds immediately, a slight tremble under my fingers. It’s gorgeous, like her body’s telling the truth her words won’t quite yet. I let my hand curl around her, squeezing gently.

“I’m glad.I feellike your roomies are awful.”

“They are.” She pauses, breathes in deeply like she’s inhaling something sweet. “Your place is the opposite,” she says, her voice soft. “I love the quiet.”

There’s something poetic about her loving the silence. It’s tempting to comment on it—to point out why—but maybe it doesn’t need to be said. Maybe she just likes the quiet.

“Do you want me to stop talking?” I tease.

She shakes her head, her smile easy, and says, “Tell me about your trip.” She lifts her hand above the blanket, sliding it down to my palm on her hip.

Her fingers curl through mine, and all the air rushes from my lungs. Everything in me feels hot, needy. Our fingers link, and I don’t censor myself—I give her the truthof the trip. I tell her everything she asked. I don’t skip over the parts about her dad.

“Coach seemed pleased with how I handled the press conference in Montreal,” I say, my voice steady, “and with how I’ve been talking to the other players.”

“That’s good. It’s happening, isn’t it?”

I take a deep breath, letting the weight of this opportunity sink in. I’m proving myself as a co-captain. “I think so. It’s kind of wild. I’m glad…and ready to lead.” Except…I hesitate, then admit something hard. “Most of the time. Other times, I’m not so sure.”

Her expression softens. “Why would you think you’re not ready?”

Her question is gentle, like she knows how hard it is for me to say this out loud. Normally, I project confidence. That’s how I get through life. I’m the resilient one. The optimist. I work hard, focus, stay responsible, and move forward. But sometimes, I’m not that guy.

“I wonder if I’m taking on too much,” I say. “And if the guys will listen to me.” There’s more to it though. Something I can’t avoid. But tonight is for honesty. “And I wonder how the team would see me…” My gaze roams up and down her. “If they knew. About this.”

She exhales heavily, her grip on my hand tightening—a reassurance, like she’s saying we’re in this together. Or maybe I just want to believe that.

“But I know you’d make a great leader,” she says firmly. “You care enough to worry—that’s the difference. You have this calm confidence, this sense of purpose. You always seem to know exactly what to say. You’re going to be great, even when it’s hard. I really believe that.”

Her faith lifts me up. It’s everything I needed. “Vulnerability isn’t easy for me,” I say.

“I think you are with me though. Vulnerable.”

I take a deep breath. “I’m a lot of things with you that I’m not with other people.”

“Like what?”

Like falling for her—that’s what. I want to take care of her, watch her shine, cook for her, come home to her. But I can’t put all of that on her—not yet.

“Vulnerable,” I repeat. “Open. A little obsessed.”

That’s a lie. I’m a lot obsessed.

“Yeah?” she asks, sounding enchanted.

“Yes. I’ve been thinking about you. I think about you all the time, Leighton. I probably think about you too much.”

She lets go of my hand, reaching for my face, her thumb gliding along my jawline, her touch featherlight and maddening. I stay still, frozen in her touch, but the tension vibrates through my entire body as she looks at me. When her lips part slightly, everything in me tightens and unravels at the same time.

And then, I break.

I bend, leaning in, and crush my mouth to hers.

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