Free Good Girl Complex by Elle Kennedy

We emerge onto a platform. From here, we can see the entire campus. Rolling green hills and white-topped buildings. Practically the whole town, all the way to the blue horizon of Avalon Bay. It’s spectacular.
    “This is incredible,” I say, smiling at his thoughtfulness and ingenuity.
    “It’s not a VIP tour without a bird’s-eye view.” Preston standsbehind me and wraps his arms around my waist. He kisses the side of my head as we appreciate the landscape together. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he says softly.
    “Me too.”
    Admittedly, things were slightly strained between us the last couple of years, while he was at college and I was stuck in high school. Doing the long-distance thing, even when we could see each other on weekends, was stressful. It took a lot of the fun out of our relationship. Today, though, I’m remembering how it was when we first started dating. How enamored of him I’d been, feeling like I’d won a prize, being chosen by an upperclassman.
    Still, as Pres holds me against him and nuzzles my neck, a thought nudges its way into the back of my mind.
    A very traitorous thought.
    Of Cooper’s chiseled jaw and fathomless eyes. The way my pulse sped when he sat beside me and flashed that arrogant smile. I don’t get palpations when Preston walks into a room. My skin doesn’t tingle when he touches me. My thighs don’t clench, and my mouth doesn’t run dry.
    Then again, those responses can be overrated. Too many hormones running rampant can cloud your judgment. I mean, look at the statistics—all those people who end up in a dysfunctional relationship because they base it on sex, not compatibility. Pres and I are right for each other. We get along well. We’re on the same trajectory. Our parents already approve, and it keeps everyone happy. I could play the field with a dozen Coopers and get my heart broken by every one. Why do that to myself?
    There’s a lot to be said for knowing a good thing when you’ve got it.
    “Thank you,” I tell Pres, turning in his arms to kiss him. “Today was perfect.”
    But later that night, as I’m half watching Netflix in my room while doing my English Lit reading, a flutter of excitement races through me when Cooper’s name pops up on my phone. Then I remind myself to calm the fuck down.
    Cooper:
Want to grab dinner?
    Me:
I already ate.
    Cooper:
Me too.
    Me:
Then why’d you ask?
    Cooper:
To see what you’d say.
    Me:
So sneaky.
    Cooper:
What are you doing?
    Me:
Netflix and homework.
    Cooper:
Is that code for something?
    Me:
Busted.
    Cooper:
I can’t even imagine what rich people porn is like.
    Those words on the screen make me squeeze my legs together and put terrible ideas in my head. Which I promptly shove in a box labeled
don’t you dare.
    Me:
It’s mostly eating scones off the pages of
The Wall Street Journal.
    Cooper:
You people are fucked up.
    A cackle bursts out of me, and I slap my hand over my mouth before Bonnie hears me and comes rushing in to see what’s so funny. She’s a doll, that one, but she has no concept of boundaries.
    Me:
What are you doing?
    Cooper:
Flirting with some chick I just met.
    I walked right into that one.
    Me:
Still have a boyfriend.
    Cooper:
For now.
    Me:
Goodnight, townie.
    Cooper:
Night, princess.
    I know he’s just pushing my buttons. Cooper’s thing, I’m learning, is trying to get a rise out of me. I can’t say I hate it, exactly. It’s refreshing to have a friend who gets that part of my personality. And, okay, it’s technically flirting, which is technically frowned upon, but it’s all in good fun.
    No matter how many hormonal reactions Cooper elicits in me, I’m not about to leave Pres for the first tattooed bad boy I meet at college.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    MACKENZIE
    The next afternoon, I decide to explore the town on my own since my schedule is free. Preston inspired me to try embracing my time at Garnet rather than looking at it like a prison sentence. With that thought in mind, I throw on a