Good Girl Complex: a heartwarming modern romance from the TikTok sensation

by Elle Kennedy

  “You got exactly what you wanted, right, Heidi? Mac won’t talk to me. And now, what, you’ve come to gloat? Fucking spare me.”

  “You think I did this to you?”

  “I know you did.”

  “God, Cooper, you are such an ass.” Cheeks stained red with anger, Heidi throws a handful of sawdust in my face.

  “Motherfucker,” I curse. There’s sawdust in my mouth and up my nose.

  Muttering under my breath, I douse my head with a bottle of water and spit up tiny splinters on the concrete floor. My wary gaze tracks Heidi’s pissed off movements as she starts pacing the garage.

  “I warned you this was a bad idea,” she fumes. “I said it was cruel to play with someone like that. But you didn’t listen because Oh that Heidi, she’s just jealous. Right? Isn’t that what you thought?”

  A sliver of guilt pricks my chest, because, yeah, it’s precisely what I thought when she’d protested Evan’s revenge scheme.

  “Well, I’m sorry it blew up in your face exactly how I knew it would.” She jabs her index finger in the air. “Don’t put that on me.”

  I jab my finger right back. “No, you only made Mac miserable every second she was around until you finally got your chance to drive her away.”

  “She was eavesdropping. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”

  I’m so goddamn over Heidi and her attitude. For six months, I’ve made myself grin and bear it, but there’s a limit.

  “You made it pretty clear you hated her from the second we got together. I asked you, as a friend, to do me this one favor. Instead you stabbed me in the back. Honest to God, I thought we were tighter than that.”

  Heidi launches forward and chucks a sanding block at my head, which I manage to catch before it wallops me in the face. “Don’t pull that loyalty card nonsense on me. All you’ve done since the summer is act like I’m the heartsick psycho who can’t get off your dick, but it was you who showed up at my door drunk and horny one day, and the next you’re treating me like a stalker.”

  “Where did this come from?”

  “You, jackass.” Heidi paces around the table. Too close to my chisels and mallets for my liking. “Yes, okay, sorry, I made the unforgiveable mistake of catching feelings for you. Fucking crucify me. I don’t remember you telling me our shit was over. I don’t recall a conversation where you said, Hey, it’s only sex and we’re cool, right? One day I’m getting the brush-off and that’s it.”

  I falter, forcing myself to look back to last summer. My memory is a bit fuzzy on the details. I’m not even sure how we ended up in bed the first time. Can’t say I remember having a meeting about the particulars either. There’d been no what are we talk. No discussion where we laid out some ground rules. I just …assumed.

  And that’s when I realize, as I feel the color drain from my face and guilt twist up my insides, that maybe I was the asshole.

  “I didn’t realize that’s how you felt,” I admit, keeping my distance because another violent outburst is not out of the question. “I thought we were on the same page. And then, yeah, I guess I felt kind of cornered and took the easy way out. I didn’t want to make it awkward.”

  Heidi stops. She sighs, slumping down on a stool. “You made me feel like some random hookup. Like, even as a friend, I didn’t mean anything to you. That really hurt, Coop. Then I was so mad at you.”

  Fuck. Heidi’s always had my back. I was so up my own ass I didn’t think for a second how I did her wrong.

  “Come here,” I say gruffly, holding out my arms.

  After a second, she comes forward and lets me hug her. Though she does slug me in the ribs before wrapping her arms behind my back.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. If I’d seen someone else treat you that way, I’d have beaten him senseless. It wasn’t cool at all.”

  She peers up at me, and there’s moisture clinging to her lashes. She hastily wipes her eyes. “I guess I’m sorry too. I should have put on my big girl pants and cut your brake lines like an adult instead of taking it out on your girlfriend.”

  Ah, fucking Heidi. Never can tell with this one. I wouldn’t for a second put it past her.

  I give her another squeeze before releasing her. “Are we good?”

  She shrugs. “Eh. We will be.”

  “If you need me to grovel some more, say the word.” I flash a self-deprecating grin. “I’ve gotten damn good at groveling these past couple weeks.”

  Her lips twitch with humor. “The flowers on your porch say otherwise. But sure, I’ll take some groveling. You can’t act like a fuckboy and expect to get away with it.”

  I wince. “God. No. Definitely don’t let me get away with it.” A groan slips out. “I just realized something. I’m Evan. I fucking Evan’d you.”

  Heidi starts to laugh uncontrollably, bending over to clutch her side. “Oh my God, you did,” she howls. When she regains her composure, her cheeks are flushed and stained with tears of laughter rather than pain. She grins at me and says, “I almost feel like that’s punishment enough.”

  I know Heidi well enough to be sure we’ll work our stuff out, and it’s especially promising after our talk in the garage. The harder mission right now is Mac, whose determination to ignore me has surpassed even my most pessimistic estimations. Two weeks becomes three, and the stubborn woman continues to act as if I don’t exist.

  I’ve taken to texting her as I get off work, a reward to myself for making it all day without leaving her a dozen voicemails. Not that she ever replies, but I’m holding on to hope that one day she will.

  I’ve just hit send on my latest Please please call me when Levi signals me and Evan as we’re getting into my truck and asks us to meet him down at his lawyer’s office on Main Street. He mentioned something recently about amending his will, so I figure it’s about that. But when we get there, he drops a bomb on us.

  After we’re ushered into a small conference room and take our seats, Levi slides a small stack of documents across the table.

  “For you boys,” he says.

  “What’s this?” I ask.

  “Have a quick read.”

  Confused, I scan the documents. My eyes widen when they land on the words Hartley & Sons. “Levi. What is this?” I repeat.

  Evan pulls the papers toward him to take a better look.

  “I’m restructuring the company,” Levi explains, pushing two pens toward us. “And, if you’re interested, Coop, bringing your furniture business under the new H & S umbrella.”

  “Wait.” Evan pops his head up after a careful reading of the contract. “You want to make us owners?”

  Levi nods with a reserved smile. “Equal partners.”

  “I …” Am lost for words. Dumbstruck. I didn’t see this coming whatsoever. “I don’t understand. What brought this on?”

  Levi clears his throat and gives his lawyer a look that gets the older man peeling out of his big leather chair to give us some privacy. “The day Shelley left town for good, when I came by the house to check on you,” he starts. Then stops, clearing his throat again. “What you boys said really got to me. About being all alone now. Feeling like orphans. And, well, if I’m being honest, I always thought of you two as my sons.”

  Levi’s never been married or had kids of his own. It wasn’t until we were in high school that Evan and I caught on that his friend and roommate Tim was his boyfriend. They’ve been together as long as I can remember, though they try not to be obvious about it. The Bay that Levi grew up in is of another time, so I get it. He prefers to keep his personal life private, and we’ve always tried to respect that.

  “I figured, well, let’s make it official.” He gulps, shifting awkwardly in his chair. “If you’re good with it, that is.” Another gulp. “I want to make sure you boys have a legacy you’re proud of in this town.”

  All I can do is stare at him. Because … wow. No one has ever invested anything in us before. Growing up, most people wrote us off as a lo
st cause. Bound to end up like our parents. Drunks. Deadbeats. Drop-outs. All waiting for the day they could wag their fingers and say, See, I knew it. But not Levi. Maybe because he’s family, but mostly because he’s a decent guy. He saw us as worth protecting. He knew, if given a chance, an ounce of help, we’d turn out okay. A little frayed, maybe, but still in one piece.

  “So, what do you say?” he prompts.

  My brother wastes no time grabbing one of the pens. “Hell yes,” he says, the crack in his voice revealing he’s as affected by this as I am.

  I always knew our uncle cared, that he’d never let us down, but this is more than I ever expected. It’s a real future. Something to build on. It’s the feeling that Evan and I finally have some firm footing in this world. One thing that isn’t crumbling around our heads.

  Evan scribbles his signature on the bottom of the page. He jumps to his feet, meeting Levi first with a handshake and then a back-slapping hug. “Thanks, Uncle Levi,” he says in a very serious un-Evan-like tone. “We won’t let you down. I promise.”

  My hand shakes slightly as I add my own signature to the page. I get up and embrace our new business partner. “I can’t thank you enough,” I tell our uncle. “This means so much to us.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” he says with a smirk. “You’re owners now. That means early mornings and late nights. I’ve got a lot to teach you.”

  “I look forward to it,” I answer, and I mean every word.

  “Good. I’m thinking first thing we do is get one of you boys to head up the demolition crew at Mackenzie’s hotel. Frees me up to focus on the Sanderson restaurant.”

  I flinch. Just hearing someone say her name stirs up a world of pain. “Yeah. Maybe Evan’ll handle that. I don’t think Mac is ready to have me around on the site every day.”

  Levi’s brow furrows. “You two are still on the outs?”

  I nod miserably. “She won’t answer my calls or accept my gifts.”

  “Gifts?” he echoes in amusement.

  My brother speaks up, taking great delight in describing to our uncle the field’s worth of flowers I’d sent, the numerous heart-shaped chocolate boxes, the overstuffed baskets. “So many baskets,” Evan stresses. “It’s disgusting.”

  “And futile,” Levi says after a bout of gentle laughter. “Boy, you’re not winning back a girl like that with candy and flowers.”

  “No?” Frustration jams in my throat. “Then what do I do? How do I get her to talk to me?”

  My uncle claps a hand over my shoulder. “Easy. You need to think bigger.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  MACKENZIE

  On my way back to Steph and Alana’s house from the hotel, I stop to grab takeout from their favorite Chinese food place. It’s only been a few weeks since Levi’s guys started work on ripping out all the old carpet and drywall, tossing the damaged furniture and fixtures and anything too far gone to salvage, yet the place is almost unrecognizable on the inside.

  A blank canvas.

  Already I’m rethinking much of the interior design aesthetic. I still intend to preserve the original look as much as possible, but with an eye toward editing. I want to open the place up more, bring the outside in. Brighten it with natural light and greenery. Reflect a sense of luxurious relaxation. My architect is about sick of me with all my phone calls and emails tweaking the plans. I’m sure I’ll calm down once the new construction begins. I just want it to be perfect. This is my legacy I’m building, after all. With any luck, it’ll be standing for another fifty years.

  I pull into the driveway in the used SUV I purchased from the local dealership last week. I finally caved and got a car after realizing I can’t spend the rest of my life in this town in the backseats of taxis and Ubers.

  I’m killing the engine when I receive a text message from my mother.

  Mom: Mackenzie, I’m forwarding you the name of my designer, as promised. If you insist on continuing on with this little project, then you must do it right.

  My snicker echoes loudly in the vehicle. That’s the closest thing to a stamp of approval my mother is currently capable of providing. After months of playing the silent treatment game with my parents, I ended up contacting them a week after I moved out of Cooper’s. I blame it on my highly emotional state. But honestly, despite their overbearing, condescending personalities, they’re still my parents. The only family I have. So I bit the bullet and extended the olive branch, and to my surprise, they accepted it.

  A few days ago they even made it out to the hotel—for about ten minutes. Long enough for my dad to grimace a lot and my mom to give me an earful about linen patterns. I can’t say they were entirely enthused about the project, but they made the effort anyway. A small step toward normalizing relations.

  I send back a quick text.

  Me: Thanks, Mom. I’ll give her a call tomorrow.

  Mom: If you need another set of eyes once you enter the interior design phase, contact Stacey and she’ll add you to my calendar if I have the time.

  I roll my eyes at the screen. Classic Annabeth Cabot. But nothing I can do about that.

  I’m barely in the door of the house before my roommates pounce and tear the takeout bags from my hands. We set the table and start digging in while Steph turns on her nightly paranormal investigations marathon on TV. Six straight hours of grown men in night vision goggles, running through an abandoned mall and screaming about a rat kicking around an errant food court cup or something. But whatever. It’s her thing.

  “So what were you saying about some shit that happened at work?” Alana says, picking all the pork out of the lo mein before anyone else has gotten their hands on the carton.

  “Oh, right.” Steph talks with her chopsticks like she’s conducting an orchestra. “So Caitlynn tells Manny that his ex blasted him on BoyfriendFails. Everyone’s on it now at the bar,” she tells me with a grin.

  “How’d they know it was about him?” Alana demands.

  “Oh, ’cause we were all there when the original incident happened. Long story short: Manny met some girl at a bar last month and took her home. Few days later, he sees her again and asks her out. They’re dating for a few weeks when a group of us are out bowling, and he apparently calls her by the wrong name. I don’t know how he’d managed to go all that time never calling her by name, but turns out he’d slept with her older sister that first night, then met the younger sister and confused the two.”

  “Ouch.” Every time I think I’ve heard it all, there’s a new twist on an old favorite.

  “Anyway, fast forward to tonight. Caitlynn’s showing Manny the BoyfriendFails post when this teenage kid walks in. He marches right up to the bar. And it’s the middle of the lunch rush so we’re pretty slammed. The kid shouts something at Manny in Spanish, then grabs some dude’s drink, splashes it on the bar, and throws a match.”

  I gasp loudly. “Oh my God, is he okay?”

  Steph waves away my concern. “Oh, yeah, he’s fine. Joe’s been watering down the wells for decades.”

  And this is why one of the first things I did after the money started coming in was get a lawyer to write up a liability disclaimer for the website.

  “When the bar doesn’t ignite, he’s furious and jumps over it,” Steph continues. “Kid isn’t more than five-foot-nothing and can’t be older than fifteen. Must not be the first time Manny’s been chased because I’d never seen him move so fast.”

  Alana snickers.

  “He ducks out from behind the bar and hauls ass. The kid’s diving over tables. Takes a swing at him with a chair until Daryl picks him up and tosses him outside. Daryl has to barricade the doors until the kid finally gives up and leaves. Manny sneaks out the back.” Steph starts cracking up. “Turns out it was those girls’ little brother come to beat Manny’s ass. It was adorable.”

  “You know,” I say, trying not to choke on my food, “good for the kid.”

  “Right?”

  I swallow my lemon chicken and reach for a ca
n of Diet Coke. “Speaking of bitter exes, I ran into Preston today when I was having lunch with Bonnie on campus.”

  Steph lifts a brow. “How’d that go?”

  “Not terrible,” I admit. “He was with his new girlfriend. Cute, typical Garnet girl whose father is some hedge fund guy and mother is an heir to an electric fan fortune or something. They’ve been together for a couple months now.”

  Alana makes a face. “Poor girl.”

  I shrug. “I don’t know, far as I can tell, she worships Preston. Which is all he really wants, I guess. Someone to smile and thank him for making the decisions.” I pop another piece of chicken into my mouth, talking while chewing. “If it makes them both happy, then who am I to judge?”

  “Oh, hey, did you see this?” Alana shoves the last bite of an eggroll in her mouth, then wipes duck sauce from her fingers before handing me her phone. “From today.”

  I glance at the screen to find a new post from BoyfriendFails. Except it starts with a caveat. This isn’t from a disgruntled girlfriend anonymously blasting her ex—it’s from the boyfriend confessing his misdeeds to the world.

  I’m the #BoyfriendFail

  You read the title right. I’m the boyfriend fail. As in, I failed. Big-time. I failed the woman I love, I failed our relationship, and I failed myself.

  I raise my head to shoot a suspicious look at Alana. She pretends to be overly focused on her food.

  I messed up the best thing that ever happened to me. Let my perfect girl slip through my fingers because I was a selfish asshole. The night I met her, I had revenge on the brain. I had a beef with her boyfriend. I wanted to punish him for getting me fired, for stirring up all my insecurities about being a loser townie, being stuck here without prospects for anything better. Anything more.

  But then I got to know her, and something happened. She inspired me. She showed me there’s more to me than this anchor around my neck weighing me down. She made me believe I’m capable of greatness.

  She was right. But also wrong. Because I don’t want greatness, I don’t want a bright sunny future—if she’s not by my side to enjoy it.