His Good Girl

Chapter 1

ALEXIS

“Go to fucking hell, Finn!”

“I’m already there, Vi!”

The scream is punctuated with the sound of shattering glass as Marcee's mom continues to rant. We’re huddled in her room, sitting on the floor by the side of her bed with our shoulders pressed together and our backs toward the door, hiding from the fight going on in the kitchen.

Each of us wears one of my AirPods with the Goo Goo Dolls blasting in an attempt to drown out the noise.

I met Marcee while we were both struggling to open the cheap-ass lockers assigned to us during the freshman open house at our high school and instantly became best friends. I had attended the event alone, my parents were too busy to show up, per usual.

Having learned long ago not to be shy, I introduced myself, and within minutes, we realized that we had all but two classes together.

Marcee introduced me to her parents, who were brightly smiling at the fact that we each had someone to enter freshman year with, but their smiles quickly faltered when they asked where my parents were.

Their looks of pity at hearing I was alone made me laugh dryly.

I joked that if they ever spotted my folks at a school event, hell had certainly frozen over.

Neither had laughed at my attempt to lighten the mood and not so subtly averted their eyes.

Her parents walked us to our classes, and when it came time for us to split ways for our different periods, Marcee’s dad offered to walk me to my classes.

It was odd having someone with me, but deep down, it was nice to pretend I had a dad that cared about my life instead of one that just threw money at the problem.

The problem being that he had a daughter and no time for her.

Although he was better than my mom, who hated me for, and I quote, “Ruining my body and stealing my youth!” Yeah, she’s a real treat, such a lovely role model.

She spends most of her time oscillating between the spa and the plastic surgeon, fixing what I apparently destroyed.

It’s a little surreal to hear Marcee’s parents fighting like this.

Up until recently, they’ve always been the epitome of the perfect couple.

My parents usually ignore one another and have their side pieces for warmth as my mom says—gag me!

They know it’s better financially for them to stay married, so legally they are, otherwise, they live their own lives.

But Marcee’s parents always seemed like Uncle Jesse and Aunt Becky from Full House—meant to be.

They had family dinners, and at least one parent was at every school function or sports event.

Marcee’s always so embarrassed about how they hold hands everywhere they go.

I thought it was nice the way they were, an unrealistic and a once-in-a-lifetime thing, but a nice thought that there are people who love like that.

As we listen to the fight rage on and more glass being shattered, the first tear runs down Marcee's cheek. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her into my side.

“I want a divorce! I can’t be married to you for another minute!”

Damn, her mom has to be close to losing her voice by now. Most of the screaming during their argument had come from her. Her dad, for the most part, stayed calm, only lobbing a few well-placed digs here and there.

“Finally, something we can agree on,” Mr. Walker grits out, his voice gravely and strained like it’s taking a monumental effort to push the words out somewhat calmly.

Marcee’s body shakes as the sobs break loose and the house finally goes quiet. Only the sound of the front door slamming and a car engine revving breaks the deafening silence in the wake of their battle.

I guess I was wrong—love doesn’t exist, and there are no perfect couples.