Good Girl Complex: a heartwarming modern romance from the TikTok sensation
Page 18
“It’s kind of a nosy question.”
“Alright.”
“Like, totally none of my business.”
“You gonna ask it or should we keep discussing the question-asking process itself?”
She bites me again, a teasing nip at my shoulder. “Fine. Did you have sex with Sutton?”
“No. We took a walk on the pier and then she puked over the railing, so I put her in a cab.”
Mackenzie keeps prying. “If she hadn’t thrown up, would you have done anything? Kissed? Brought her back here?”
“Maybe. Probably.” When I feel her body stiffen beside me, I thread my fingers through her long hair. Other guys might have held back, but I’m not other guys. She asked. I answered. “You wanted to know.”
“Yeah, I did. And I’m the one who threw her at you. I guess I’m not allowed to be jealous.” Mac growls softly. “But I fucking am.”
“Welcome to the club,” I growl back. “The thought of anyone but me putting their hands on you makes me homicidal.”
She laughs. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a bit intense?”
I shrug. “Got a problem with that?”
“Not at all.”
I twist a chunk of her hair around my finger. “You know,” I say pensively, “as pissed as I was at you that night, I’d forgotten how fun it is to be Evan. It’d been ages since we pulled a twin switch.”
She tilts her head curiously. “You two would switch places a lot?”
“All the time. He used to take all my geography tests for me in high school—swear to God, that kid has a weirdly good memory when it comes to state capitals. Sometimes we’d break up with each other’s girlfriends.”
Mackenzie gasps. “That’s awful.”
“Not our finest moments,” I agree. “We also switched places to mess with our friends, although most of them can tell us apart, even when we make ourselves identical from head to toe. But yeah, sometimes it’s nice to take a break from myself and be Evan. Live life with zero regard for consequences. Do what you want, screw who you want, no regrets.”
“I don’t know … I like you just fine.” Her palm slowly trails down my bare chest. “More than fine, actually.”
“Wait. I want to make you breakfast,” I say, stopping her when her hand reaches into my boxers.
“Can’t we do this first?” Mac looks up and licks her lips.
Goddamn. Yes, princess, by all means I’d love to see how you look with my cock in your mouth, but I’m trying out this new being-a-gentleman thing, if you’ll let me.
Like I said, my head’s wrecked.
“You start that,” I warn, “and we aren’t leaving this bed.”
“I don’t mind.”
Groaning, I push her off me and slide out of bed. “Tempting. And trust me, I’d absolutely smash that, but Evan and I are getting a delivery today for the house renovations. We’ve gotta get an early start.”
Mac pouts, my T-shirt hanging off one tanned shoulder. Her bare legs are begging me to come back to bed. Fucking death of me, right there.
“Fine. I guess breakfast will do. Got any scones?”
“Fuck off,” I laugh, heading to the bathroom.
After I grab a spare toothbrush from the cabinet, Mac tears open the packaging. We brush our teeth side by side, but draw the line there. She shoos me out so she can pee, and I go and answer a text from Billy West about today’s lumber order. I’m still texting when Mac wanders out of my room toward the kitchen.
By the time I’m done, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee is wafting through the house.
“Sure, honey, help yourself,” I hear Evan drawl.
I round the corner to see Mac standing by the coffeemaker with a mug in her hand.
“I thought I’d get a pot going for whoever wants some,” she says, noting as I do the sarcasm in his voice. “I hope that’s alright.”
“Of course it is,” I say pointedly at Evan. Because I don’t get his sudden attitude. “Have a seat. I’m gonna get some eggs going. You want bacon?”
“Shall I have the maid fetch the good china, or would her majesty prefer to be hand fed?” Evan inquires, grabbing a box of cereal.
“Hey.” I shove him as he tries blocking me from the fridge. Fucking child. “Give it a rest, man.”
Mac is visibly uncomfortable. “Yeah, you know, I’ve actually got to get back to the dorm, so I’m going to head out.”
“Come on, stay,” I urge. “I’ll drive you back after breakfast.”
But it’s too late. Whatever bug’s crawled up Evan’s ass this morning, he’s already scared her off. Mac can’t get away from us fast enough, hurrying off to my bedroom, where she calls a cab while changing back into her dress from last night.
“I’m sorry about him,” I tell her, catching her around the waist before she walks out the front door. “He’s not much of a morning person.”
“It’s fine. Really.”
I study her face. Her makeup’s been washed off and her hair’s in a loose knot on top of her head. It’s the most beautiful she’s ever looked. And now I’m thinking we should have gone with her plan of staying in bed all day.
“I’m sure if I had siblings, they’d be a pain in the butt too.” Mac lifts up on her toes to kiss me. I take that to mean we’re still gonna be on speaking terms.
After she’s gone, I find Evan in the garage.
“Hey, what was all that about?” I ask tersely.
“Better ask yourself that question,” he retorts, brushing by me with his tool belt over his shoulder. “Since when are you playing butler to the princess? The plan was to get her to break up with Kincaid, not play house.”
“Yeah, and it worked.” I follow him across the yard and back toward the house, choosing to ignore the way the inflection of hatred in his voice pricks my nerves. “She dumped him last night.”
“Great,” he says, cracking open a beer from the cooler on the front porch—at seven in the morning. “Then it’s time to cut her loose. We get both of them in the same place, let him see you two together, then be done with the clones. End of.”
I snatch the beer from his hand and pour it out. “Would you quit it with this shit? I don’t want you wasted and shooting a nail gun at me.”
“Sure, Dad,” he says, flicking me off.
“Hey.” I point a stiff finger at his chest because he fucking knows what he just did. “You say that again, we’re gonna have problems.”
He smacks my hand away. “Yeah, whatever.”
Evan’s on one today, and I’m about sick of this crap. But I can’t worry about what’s got him all twisted up, because I need to figure out how the hell I’m going to handle this thing with Mackenzie. There’s no way my brother and our friends are going to let me off the hook. All four of them have been circling, waiting for the feeding frenzy. They want blood.
I stew about it all day, but no solutions come to me. By the time we all hit up Joe’s later while Steph’s there on her shift, I haven’t come up with anything better than stalling and hoping they don’t mention the plan.
We’re on good terms again, Joe and me. I’m still disappointed in how easily he caved in firing me, but I get why he did it. Hard to hold a grudge against a guy who has a mortgage and his kid’s college loans to worry about. It wasn’t fair to expect him to go to the mat for me when he’s got his own family to protect.
We grab a booth near the bar, with Evan sliding next to me, and Heidi and Alana across from us. Steph wanders over with drink menus none of us need or glance at. The chicks order shots. Evan and I stick with beer. We took today off to rebuild our front porch, which means we’re pulling a double shift for Levi tomorrow. We’ve got to wake up at dawn, and I’d rather not do that with a hangover. Evan, I’m sure, doesn’t give a shit.
Of course, he wastes no time updating the girls on the latest Mackenzie developments.
“I’m so turned on right now,” Alana says, with an evil grin that is honestly disturbing. Chick is scary s
ometimes. “Look at me.” She holds out her arm to us. “I’ve got goose bumps.”
With her phone out, Heidi is scrolling through Kincaid’s Instagram. “All we have to do is keep an eye out for where he’s going to be one night. Somewhere public. Then you bring his ex, and we humiliate the hell out of him. Shit, we could probably sell tickets.”
“Make it soon.” Steph groans. “If he doesn’t stop coming around here, I’m going to poison his drink with laxatives. I want him afraid to show his face in public.”
“Why not this weekend?” Evan suggests, elbowing me as I concentrate on my beer, trying to ignore the rest of them. “Tomorrow. You ask the princess out on a date. Steph, you get Maddy or somebody to invite him out, and we corner him then.”
I finally contribute to the conversation. “No.”
Evan frowns. “What?”
Hearing him taking shots at Mac again does me in. I’m sick of this whole stupid plot, and I’m sick to death of pretending I’m still on board. I jumped off this train the moment I realized how cool Mac was. How smart and sexy and intriguing. She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever been with.
“It’s over,” I tell my friends, eyeing them over the rim of my bottle. “Forget about it.”
“What do you mean forget about it?” Evan snatches the beer from my hand.
My shoulders stiffen. He’d better be real careful how he comes at me next.
“We had a deal,” he snaps.
“No, you have a vendetta, and I want no part of it anymore. I’m the one who got fired, not you. Which means I get the final say about this. And I’m calling it off.”
He shakes his head incredulously. “I knew it. She got to you, didn’t she? Fucking clone got you wrapped around her prissy little finger.”
“Enough.” I smack my hand down on the table, rattling our drinks. “That goes for all of you,” I tell the girls. “She’s off-limits. As far as you’re all concerned, she’s not to be messed with.”
“When did this happen?” Steph looks at me in confusion. I don’t blame her. Until this second, I’ve kept everyone out of the loop.
“This is why we can’t have nice things,” Alana says.
“I’m serious. Look, I like Mac.” I let out a breath. “Didn’t expect to, but here we are. I’m into her.”
Across the booth, Heidi’s lips twist into a scowl. “Men,” she mutters under her breath.
I ignore the jab. “I don’t know where this is going with us, but I expect you all to be nice to her. Forget we ever hatched this stupid plot. It’s not happening anymore. No more rude comments,” I say to my brother. To the girls, “And no scheming behind her back. For better or worse, you assholes are my family. I’m asking you to do this for me.”
In the silence that follows, each of them gives a curt nod.
Then Evan storms off, because of course he does. Steph shrugs as she goes to check on her tables. Heidi and Alana just stare at me like I’m the biggest dumbass they’ve ever met. It’s not the enthusiastic confirmation I want, but it’s honestly better than I hoped for. Still, I’m under no illusions that this’ll be painless for any of us.
Heidi shoves a hand through her short hair and continues to eye me. In her expression, I see a flicker of anger. A hint of pity. And a gleam of something else. Something vindictive, alarming.
“No one breathes a word of this to Mac,” I warn Heidi. “Ever.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
MACKENZIE
I spend the next week dodging Preston with such skill it’s a shame avoidance isn’t an Olympic sport. If it were, Bonnie would also make a worthy competitor. She covers for me at our dorm one night, answering the door topless to scare him off. For whatever lewdness Pres gets up to in his free time, he remains terrified of public embarrassment. So when Bonnie starts shouting at the top of her lungs, and our hallway neighbors poke their heads out their doors to see what all the commotion is about, Preston is quick to retreat.
Ignoring his texts and phone calls is easy. Hiding from him on campus has been trickier. I’ve taken to ducking out the back entrance of every class a few minutes early or several minutes late to make sure he isn’t waiting for me. Getting classmates I’ve befriended to text me a heads-up when he’s spotted nearby. It’s a lot of effort, but a hell of a lot less messy than getting cornered.
Seems like everything in my life has been reduced to the act of sneaking around. Avoiding Pres. Going behind my parents’ backs to work on the hotel. Slipping around town to meet up with Cooper. I can’t risk anyone on campus recognizing him and ratting me out to Preston, and I think Cooper’s hiding me from Evan, so our rendezvous have become increasingly creative.
And while we still haven’t had The Talk about our dating situation, we can’t keep our hands off each other. I’m addicted. Utterly addicted to him. Bonnie calls me dick crazed. I’d argue with her if she hadn’t been right about absolutely everything since the moment we met.
On Saturday night, I meet Cooper at one of our usual spots down the beach from his house. This end of the Bay was the hardest hit from the last couple hurricanes and has been pretty much abandoned for years. It’s nothing but empty houses and decaying water-front restaurants. An old fishing pier broken and mostly overtaken by the ocean. We let Daisy off her leash to run around a bit, and she wastes no time terrorizing the tiny sand crabs and chasing birds.
After stopping to sit on a piece of driftwood, Cooper pulls me to straddle his lap, facing him. Both hands cradle my ass as I scratch my fingertips lightly up and down the back of his neck, in the way I know gets him a little hard.
“You keep doing that,” he warns, “I’m gonna bang you right here in front of the seagulls.”
“Animal,” I say, biting his lip.
“Tease.” He kisses me. Strong hands slide up my ribs to give my breasts a teasing squeeze before settling around my waist. He eases his mouth away, his gaze finding mine. “I was thinking. There’s a party tonight. Come with me.”
I lift a brow. “I don’t know. We’d be going public. Sure you’re ready for that?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Our sneaking around hasn’t been an explicit topic of conversation, but more an unspoken agreement. Altering that agreement, while inevitable, comes with a whole new net of consequences. That isn’t to say I’m unhappy at making this official. Surprised, maybe.
“So …” I run my palms down his chest, feeling every hard muscle until my hands meet his waistband. “Like a date.”
“Like a date, sure.” Cooper does this thing where he licks his lips when he thinks he’s being charming. It’s annoyingly hot.
“Which would mean we’re like dating.”
“Let’s put it this way.” Cooper brushes my hair off my shoulder. He wraps the length around his fist and tugs. Only a little. It’s a subtle, evocative gesture that has become our shorthand for I want to rip your clothes off. Like when I bite his lip or tug the front of his jeans, or look at him or breathe. “I’m not fucking anyone else. I don’t want you fucking anyone else. If anyone looks at you funny, I’m breaking their face. How’s that work?”
It isn’t exactly poetry, but that might be the most romantic thing a guy’s ever said to me. Cooper might be a bit uncouth and rough around the edges, but I’m kind of into it.
“Works for me.”
Grinning, he nudges me off his lap. “Come on, let’s take the little monster home. And I want to take a quick shower before we head out. I swear there’s always a layer of sawdust on me.”
“I like it. It’s manly.”
He rolls his eyes.
We walk to his house, entering through the back deck. I fill Daisy’s water bowl while Cooper goes to his room to shower. I’d join him, but I blow-dried my hair before coming over and I don’t want to mess it up, especially now that we’re going to a party.
“Hey,” grunts Evan, his tall, broad frame appearing in the kitchen doorway. He’s barefoot, wearing threadbare jeans and a red T-shirt. “Didn’t
know you were over.”
I slide onto a stool at the counter and watch as Daisy laps noisily at her water. “Yup. Here I am. Cooper’s in the shower.”
Evan opens a cupboard and grabs a bag of potato chips. He tears it open and shoves some chips in his mouth. As he chews, he watches me suspiciously. “What’re you two up to tonight?”
“Cooper says there’s a party? I guess we’re going to that.”
He raises his eyebrows. “He’s bringing you to Chase’s?”
“Yeah.” I pause. “Got a problem with that?”
“Not at all, princess.”
“Oh, really.”
“It’s about time you came out with us,” Evan adds, shrugging. “If you’re with my brother, you’ll need to meet the gang sooner or later. Win ’em over.”
Well, hell. Now I’m nervous. Why’d he have to phrase it that way?
What if Cooper’s friends hate me?
My distress is momentarily forgotten at the sound of Daisy’s urgent barking. I glance over at the puppy, only to find she’s standing there barking at the wall.
“Daisy,” I chide.
“Don’t worry,” Evan says. “It’s probably just the ghost.”
I roll my eyes at him.
“Coop didn’t tell you about our ghost?” He tips his head. “For real? That’s usually the first thing I tell guests. It’s like a badge of honor, living in a haunted house.”
“Your house is haunted,” I say skeptically. Because, come on. I’m not that gullible.
“Sort of? She doesn’t really bother us,” Evan explains. “So it’s not exactly a haunting. But she definitely hangs around.”
“She. She who?”
“Patricia something or other. Little girl who drowned out back like a hundred years ago. She was six, seven? I can’t remember her age. But when it storms you can hear her screaming, and every now and then, the lights in the house flicker, usually when she’s feeling playful—”
He halts abruptly as the light fixture over the kitchen island honest-to-God flickers.
Oh hell no.
Evan catches my alarm and grins. “See? She’s just teasing us. Don’t worry, princess. Patricia’s a nice ghost. Like Casper. If you want more details, I think the town library has some old newspaper articles about it.” He walks over to pat Daisy, who’s quieted down. “Good dog. You tell that little ghost girl.”