Good Girl Complex (21 page)

MACKENZIE

A few days after my hotel inspection, I meet up with Steph and Alana at a sandwich shop in town. Seems strange that a couple of weeks ago we were barely on speaking terms, and now we chat almost every day. It started when Steph looped me into a group text with Alana to share some pictures of Evan on their roof fixing the hole from the storm. His jeans had ridden down, revealing half his ass, and she’d captioned the pics with:
Someone’s doing a half-ass job
. Then Alana shared a funny screenshot from
BoyfriendFails
, and—although I was worried it might sound like a brag or serve as another glaring allusion to the topic of money—I confessed to the girls that I’m the one who created those sites. Luckily, it only made them like me more.

“Settle something for us,” Alana says, gesturing across the table with a pickle spear. “True or false—Cooper has his dick tattooed.”

I almost cough up a french fry. “What?”

“A few years back, there was this story about some chick who got banged on the roof of the police station on Fourth of July weekend,” Steph says beside me. “And there was a picture going around of a dude with a tattoo on his dick, but we never nailed down who it was.”

“You didn’t ask Heidi this question?”

The girls stare at me with apprehension.

“What, was I not supposed to know about that?” My tone is glib. I’d thought it was obvious those two had been hooking up at some point in the recent past.

Steph and Alana exchange a look, silently debating how to respond.

I offer a shrug. “It’s fine. I get it, she’s your best friend.”

“They didn’t date or anything,” Steph says as a consolation. “It was, you know, friends with benefits.”

For Cooper, maybe. But when it comes to those types of arrangements, I know that one person, without fail, is always more invested than the other.

“Heidi’s still got a thing,” Alana adds flatly, never one to mince words.

I’d already suspected that unrequited feelings or maybe a breakup was the source of Heidi’s irrational hatred of me. My instincts are rarely wrong about these things, so Alana’s confirmation is almost vindicating.

“I figured,” I tell them. “But maybe she’ll be ready to move on one of these days. Cooper said there’s some guy interested in her? Jay something?”

That earns me two groans.

“Don’t get me started on that one,” Alana gripes. “Yeah, I want her to get over this Coop thing so life can go back to normal—but Genevieve’s brother, of all people?”

“Who’s Genevieve?”

“Evan’s ex,” Steph answers. “Gen lives in Charleston now.”

“I miss her,” Alana says, visibly glum.

Steph snorts. “So does Evan. Otherwise he wouldn’t be trying to bang her out of his system. Or rather, bang everyone else.” She flips her ponytail over one shoulder and turns to grin at me. “It’s all super incestuous here in the Bay. Evan and Genevieve. Heidi and
Cooper—although thank God that’s over. Friends shouldn’t hook up, it’s just asking for trouble.” Her gaze pointedly shifts to Alana. “And then we’ve got this bitch here who keeps going back for seconds with Tate? Or are we on thirds now? Fourths?”

“Tate?” I echo with a grin. “Oh, he’s hot.”

Alana waves her hand. “Nah, that’s done now. I don’t like the friends with bennies thing either.”

“I’ve never done it.” I give a self-deprecating shrug. “My hookup history consists of Cooper, and a four-year relationship with a guy who was apparently sleeping with anything that moves.”

Steph grimaces. “Honestly, I can’t even believe you were dating that creep.”

I feel a groove dig into my forehead. “Do you know Preston?” There’d been a troubling sense of familiarity in her statement.

“What? Oh, no, I don’t. I mean, I know
of
him. Cooper told us he was cheating on you—I just assume all cheaters are creeps.” Steph reaches for her coffee, sips it, turning her face away from me for a second before glancing over with a reassuring smile. “And look, don’t worry about Heidi. Cooper’s crazy about you.”

“And Heidi’s been sufficiently threatened to behave herself,” Alana finishes, then reacts with a knitted brow when Steph gives her the facial equivalent of a kick under the table. They’re about as subtle as a jackhammer.

It’s not the first time I’ve caught a similar exchange between the two of them, as if they’re having an entire unspoken conversation I’m not a part of. My relationship with Steph and Alana has warmed significantly—and I have no doubts about Cooper’s sincerity where the two of us are concerned—but I get the distinct impression there’s a lot more I don’t know about this tight-knit group. Obviously, I can’t expect to fully penetrate the circle of trust so quickly.

But why does it feel like their secrets are at my expense?

I don’t get the chance to ponder that question, as my phone
vibrates in my pocket. It’s my mother. Again. I woke up this morning to several missed text messages from her, picking up mid-rant from the several missed text messages from the night before. I’ve taken to periodically blocking her number just to get some peace from her blowing up my phone. It’s one tirade after another over my breakup with Preston. There’s nothing left to say on the subject. For me, anyway.

But it seems my mother is determined to force me to talk about it. I glance at my phone to find she’s abandoned texting and is now calling me. I send the call to voicemail just as a 911 text from Bonnie pops up to alert me that judgment day has arrived.

“What’s wrong?” Steph leans over my shoulder, apparently alarmed at the blood draining from my face.

“My parents are here.”

Well, not here. At my dorm. Poor Bonnie’s in lockdown mode awaiting further instructions.

I knew this was coming. I’ve been dodging calls and texts, making myself scarce. But it was only a matter of time before they came for my reckoning.

No one walks out on my father.

I bail on lunch with an apology and haul ass back to campus with my blood pressure spiking. After a short phone call, the best I could do was lure them to a public venue. My parents wouldn’t dare make a scene. Here, I have the strategic advantage—and an escape route.

Still, when I walk in the café to see them seated by the window, awaiting their rogue daughter, I struggle to put one foot in front of the other. No matter how old I get, I’m still six years old, standing in
our living room as my father berates me for spilling fruit punch on my dress before the Christmas card photo shoot, after he specifically told me I could only have water, while my mother stands fraught in the corner by the bar cart.

“Hey,” I greet them, draping my purse strap over the chair. “Sorry if I kept you waiting. I was having lunch with some friends in town—”

I halt when I read the expression of impatience on my father’s face. He’s dressed in a suit, one sleeve pushed up to expose his watch. I get the message. Loud and clear. He’s missing meetings and who knows what other world-altering events to tend to his errant offspring. How dare I make him deign to parent.

Then there’s Mother Dearest, who’s tapping her manicured nails on her leather Chanel clutch as if I’m also holding her up. Honestly, I couldn’t say what the hell she does all day. I’m sure there’s a call with a caterer somewhere in her schedule. Her weeks are an endless haze of decisions like chicken or fish.

For a split second, as the two of them glare at me with annoyance and disdain, I see the template of their lives superimposed on my future, and it stitches up my side. My throat closes. A full-blown panic explodes through my nervous system. I imagine this is how drowning must feel.

I can’t live this way anymore.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I start, only for Dad to hold up his hand.
Kindly shut up
, the hand says. Okay then.

“I believe you owe us an apology, young lady.” Sometimes I wonder if my father uses the term because, for a moment, he’s forgotten my name.

“Really, you’ve gone too far this time,” my mother agrees. “Have you any idea the embarrassment you’ve caused?”

“Here is what’s going to happen.” Dad doesn’t look at me, instead scrolling through emails on his phone. All of this is a prepared
speech that doesn’t include my participation. “You will apologize to Preston and to his parents for this episode. After which they’ve agreed to the resumption of your relationship. Then you’re coming home for the weekend while we evaluate how to proceed. I’m afraid we’ve allowed you too much latitude lately.”

I stare at him.

When I realize he’s being serious, I cough out an incredulous laugh. “Um, no. I can’t do that.”

“Excuse me.” My mother adjusts her scarf, a sort of nervous tic she gets when she’s acutely aware she can’t snap at me in front of quite so many witnesses. “Your father isn’t giving you a choice, Mackenzie.”

Well, at least one of them knows my name. I try to imagine them picking out baby names. If ever there was a moment in time they looked forward to a child, it was then, right?

“I won’t get back together with Preston.” My tone invites no argument.

So, of course, I get one.

“Why not?” Mom wails in exasperation. “Don’t be a fool, sweetheart. That boy will make a loyal, upstanding husband.”

“Loyal?” I snort loud enough to draw gazes from a few neighboring tables.

Dad frowns at me. “Keep your voice down. You’re attracting attention.”

“Trust me when I say Preston is
not
loyal to anyone but himself. I’ll spare you the details.” Like how he was a cheating prick who was probably messing around since the moment we got together. How in some ways he saved us both, because I was no saint either. “But suffice it to say we don’t have a connection anymore.” I hesitate. Then I think, fuck it. “Besides, I’m seeing someone else.”

“Who?” Mom asks blankly, as if Preston were the last man on earth.

“A townie,” I reply, because I know it will drive her nuts.

“Enough.”

I jump when my father smacks his phone down on the table. Ha. Who’s attracting attention now?

Realizing what he did, Dad lowers his voice. He speaks through clenched teeth. “This disobedience stops now. I will not entertain your provocations any further. You will apologize. You will take the boy back. And you will fall in line. Or you can kiss your allowance and credit cards goodbye.” His shoulders shake with restrained rage as I now have his complete attention. “So help me, I will cut you off and you can see exactly how cold and dark this path can get.”

I don’t doubt him for a second. I’ve always known he was ruthless where I’m concerned. No coddling. No special treatment. That used to scare me.

“Tell you what,” I say, pulling my purse off the back of my chair, “here’s my counteroffer: no.”

His eyes, the same dark shade of green as my own, gleam with disapproval. “Mackenzie,” he warns.

I reach into my bag. “Do what you must, but I’m tired of living in fear of disappointing you both. I’m sick of never living up to your ideal. I have had my absolute fill of killing myself to make you happy and constantly falling short. I’m not ever going to be the daughter you want, and I’m done trying.”

I find what I’m looking for in my purse. For the first time my life, my parents are speechless as they watch me fill out a check.

I slide it across the table to my father. “Here. This ought to cover what you spent for the first semester. I’ve decided my interests lie elsewhere.”

With nothing left to say—and certain this burst of madness and courage will not last—I hold my breath as I get up from the table and walk out, not sparing a glance behind me.

Just like that, I’m a college dropout.

MACKENZIE

I’m waiting on Cooper’s doorstep when he gets home from work that evening.

After leaving my parents, I had all this pent-up energy and nowhere to release it, so I walked the boardwalk for a while, then strolled down the beach until I wound up at his place. A while later, I’m still sitting on the porch when Cooper’s truck parks in their driveway and both brothers get out.

“What’s up, princess?” Sauntering up to the front door, Evan gives me a wink as he lets himself inside. We’re old pals now, me and the Bad Twin.

“How long have you been out here?” Cooper looks surprised to see me as he comes up the steps.

I momentarily forget what he asks, because I’m too busy gawking. He puts me on my ass every time I see him. His dark eyes and windswept hair. The suggestion of his body under his T-shirt and faded jeans flirts with my memory. There’s something wildly masculine about him. He’s spent all day on the jobsite, dusty remnants still coating his skin, his clothes. The smell of sawdust. It gets me positively reckless. Reduces my entire being to
want want want
.

“Mac?” he prompts. A knowing smile curves his lips.

“Oh. Sorry. An hour, maybe?”

“Something wrong?”

“Not at all.” I take the hand he extends and let him help me to my feet. We go inside. Once we kick off our shoes, I lead him straight to his bedroom.

“I have news,” I announce.

“Yeah?”

I close his door and lock it. Because more than once lately, Evan has gotten his kicks by jiggling the handle when he knows we’re getting up to something, just to scare the shit out of me. Guy needs a hobby.

“I dropped out of school.” I can barely contain my excitement. And maybe there’s some fear too. It all feels the same, bubbling inside.

“Holy shit, that’s big. How’d that happen?”

“My parents ambushed me on campus and kind of forced my hand.”

Cooper peels out of his shirt and tosses it in his hamper. When he starts to unbuckle his belt, I cross the room and pull his hands away, taking over. As I undo his zipper, I feel him watching the top of my head and his abdomen clenches.

“How’d that go?” He sounds a bit distracted now.

Leaving his jeans on, I reach inside his boxers and begin to stroke him. He’s already half hard when I do. Quickly, he’s fully erect and his breathing is shallow.

“I told them to get bent.” I swipe my thumb over the drop of moisture at his tip. He hisses in a sharp breath. “Not in so many words.”

“Feeling pretty fucking full of yourself, huh?” His hands comb through my hair and tighten at my scalp.

I lean closer and kiss him under the corner of his jaw. “Just a bit.”

Then I walk us backward until his legs hit the bed and he sits on the edge.

Hunger darkens his gaze. “What brought this on?”

“Mostly me.” From his nightstand I grab a condom and toss it to him. Then I pull my dress over my head. “A little you.”

My bra and underwear drop to the floor.

“Independence looks good on you,” he says roughly, running his fist up and down his shaft as he watches my every move.

Slowly, I climb onto his lap. He curses in my ear, grabbing my ass with both hands. With my palms flat against his chest, I ride him. Gently at first, as a flurry of shivers race through me. It’s always a shock to my system, being with Cooper. Everything about him feels right, and yet I’m still not used to this. I don’t think I want to be. I’m still finding surprises. Still shaken every time his lips travel along my skin.

I rock back and forth. Shamelessly. I can’t get him deep enough, close enough. My head falls to his shoulder and I bite down to keep from making a sound as I grind on him.

“Oh hell, I’m not gonna last,” he mumbles.

“Good,” I breathe.

He groans and gives an upward thrust, his arms tightening around me.

I smile as I watch the haze of bliss fill his expression, as I listen to the husky noises he makes when he comes. After he tosses the condom, he lays me on the bed and kisses his way from my breasts to my stomach, and then lower, until he settles between my legs and opens me to his tongue. Cooper licks me until I’m tugging at his hair and moaning with pleasure. He’s too good with his mouth. It’s addictive.

Later, after a shower and another round of orgasms, we sit on the front porch with Daisy while a frozen pizza bakes in the oven.

“I don’t know if I would’ve gone through with it if I hadn’t met you,” I tell Cooper, as our puppy sleeps in his lap. “Dropping out, I mean.”

“Yeah, you would have. Eventually. I’m the excuse that gave you a nudge.”

“Maybe,” I admit. “But you inspired me.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Shut up. I mean it.” Something I’ve learned about Cooper: He’s terrible at taking compliments. It’s one of his more endearing qualities. “You’re not afraid of anything or anyone. You make your own rules. Everyone else be damned.”

“It comes easy when you don’t have shit to start with.”

“You believed in me,” I say. “You’re the only one who ever has. That means a lot. I won’t forget that.”

But even as I bask in my newfound independence, I’m not naïve enough to believe my parents will take my decision lying down. They’ll figure out a way to make it hurt. No one crosses my father and gets away with it. So there will definitely be fallout from this sudden outburst of disobedience. It’s only a question of
how bad
.

It doesn’t take long for the consequences of my actions to make themselves known. Exactly six days after dropping out, I receive an email from the dean of students. It’s short and concise. A polite
Get your ass in here
.

I’m a few minutes late for the meeting, and I’m ushered into a cherry wood–trimmed office by the secretary. The dean is otherwise engaged and will be with me in a moment. Would I care for some water?

I guess my parents made a few calls hoping a neutral third party can lobby me on their behalf to not drop out of school. Though as far as I’m concerned, all that’s left are the formalities of paperwork. Admittedly, I’ve made little progress on finalizing my withdrawal from Garnet. Between the hotel and my websites occupying most of my attention, I’ve enjoyed what counts for me as slacking off.

“So sorry about that.” Dean Freitag, a petite woman whose leather skin clings in brittle ripples to her bones, enters the room. She comes around her desk, breathless, fluffing the humidity out of her shoulder-length helmet of blonde hair. She adjusts the jacket of her cranberry suit ensemble and pulls the silk scarf from her neck. “Hotter than the devil’s bathtub out there.”

The dean flicks on a small desk fan and aims it at herself, basking for a moment in the breeze before turning her attention back to me.

“Now, Ms. Cabot.” Her demeanor shifts. “I understand you’ve not attended a single class in the last week.”

“No, ma’am. I’ve come to the decision to withdraw from the semester.”

“Oh? If I recall, you’ve already delayed your freshman year by twelve months.” One pencil-thin eyebrow props up. “What’s so pressing that your education must wait?”

Something about her friendly ignorance unnerves me. As if I’m walking into a trap.

“Actually, I’m withdrawing from Garnet entirely. I won’t be back next semester.”

She regards me, impassive, for several seconds. So long that I’m almost moved to elaborate to get her going again. When she finally speaks, I can’t help but interpret some vengeance in her voice.

“And I suppose you’ve given this a fair bit of thought?”

“I have. Yes, ma’am.”

A brief
suit yourself
smile crosses her lips before she rattles her computer mouse to wake the screen. She trains her attention on it as she speaks.

“Well, then we can certainly help you with that. I’ll have my secretary pull the necessary forms.” She glances at me with a look that falls short of reassurance. “Don’t worry, it’s just a signature or two.” Clicking her mouse around. “Of course you’ll need to vacate
your dorm at Tally Hall within twenty-four hours of submitting notice to the Office of Student Housing.” She hits me with the Miss Melon Pageant smile. “Which—here we are!—I’ve just submitted it for you.”

And there it is. Total setup.

A big
screw you
from Daddy.

She’s right, of course. I have no business squatting in a dorm room if I’m not a student here. A minor detail that seemed to slip my mind. No doubt my parents spent the last week waiting for me to come crawling back home for a place to stay.

“Will there be anything else?” The dean grins at me as if I’ve done this to her. A personal slight.

I don’t waste a second agonizing over it, however. For better or worse, we’re broken up.

“No, ma’am.” I offer a saccharine smile and rise to my feet. “I’ll just be on my way.”

An hour later, I’m in my dorm, boxing up my belongings. A little over three months. That’s how long my college career lasted, and yet …I’m not sad to see it end.

I’m pulling clothes off hangers when I hear the buzz of an incoming text. I grab the phone from my desk. It’s a message from Kate, who I haven’t seen in weeks. I asked her to hang out a couple times—I didn’t want to be one of those girls who ditches her friends the moment she starts dating a new guy—but she’s been busy rehearsing with some band she joined last month. She plays the bass guitar, apparently.

I curse out loud. Damn Evan. I knew that night would come back to haunt us.

Before I can get back to packing, the phone vibrates again in my hand. Speak of the devil. This time it’s Preston, and he’s not happy.

My jaw tightens. I’m so sick of his high and mighty bullshit. The judgmental, patronizing way he treats me, acting as if I’m incapable of living my own life.

When I see him typing, I switch on Do Not Disturb mode. I can’t bring myself to block his number yet. A concession to our history, I guess. But I have a feeling I’ll need to, sooner or later.

When Bonnie returns to the dorm following her afternoon class,
I’m completely done packing. The little blonde stops short in our common area and stares at the half dozen boxes lined up against the wall.

“You goin’ on the run?” She tosses down her backpack and grabs a water from the mini fridge, then stands there with the door open, cooling her legs.

“Got kicked out,” I answer with a shrug. “It was bound to happen.”

“Well, shit.” She pushes the fridge closed with her foot. “You think I’ll get to keep the place to myself now?”

I smile at her. Bonnie isn’t an especially sentimental girl, but I know she cares. “I’ll miss you too.”

“What are you going to do with all your stuff?” She nods toward the boxes. Then she gives a catty smile. “I suppose we can ask our cheatin’ ex to borrow his Porsche?”

I snicker. “I’m sure that would go over well.” Walking toward my former bedroom, I fish my phone from my pocket. “It’s fine, I know someone with a truck. Let me see if he can come get me.”

“Oooh, is it the townie with the magic dick?”

“Maybe.” Laughing, I duck into the bedroom to make my call.

“Hey babe. What’s up?” Cooper’s rough voice tickles my ear and sends a shiver up my spine. He even sounds sexy.

“Hey. So. I have a big ask.”

“Shoot.” The banging of hammers and whir of saws fade in the background, like he’s stepping away from his jobsite.

“I have to vacate my dorm. Was tossed out, basically. I guess I’m not allowed to live in student housing when I’m not a student.”

“You realize that’s a completely reasonable decision on the school’s part, right?”

“They gave me twenty-four hours’ notice,” I argue. “How reasonable is that?”

He chuckles. “Need help packing?”

“Nope, but I’m hoping you can pick me up after you’re done working so I can load some boxes in your truck? I’ll put most of it in a storage unit in town until I find an apartment.” I hesitate. “And, um, I could use a place to crash until I find something more permanent. If it’s not too much to ask.”

I mean, it is a lot to ask. We’ve barely started dating. Moving in, even on a temporary basis, is no small favor. Yes, Evan and I are on good terms now, which eases the possible tension, but they didn’t exactly sign up for a third roommate.

“No, you know what,” I interject when he starts to answer, “I’ll get a hotel. That’d make way more sense.”

Because seriously, what was I thinking? This was a stupid idea. How did I think my first option should be to force my way into Cooper’s house, as if I’ve known him for longer than a few months? That’s insane.

“There’s that motel at the north side of the beach. I bet they rent rooms weekly—”

“Mac?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

I bite back a laugh. “Rude.”

“You’re not staying at a shithole motel on the north side. You’re staying with me. The end.”

“You’re sure? I didn’t really think this through before I called, I just—”

“I’m done at six. I’ll come grab you from campus afterward.”

A lump of emotion rises in my throat. “Thanks. I, uh … damn it, Cooper, I really appreciate it.”