Good-ish

Chapter One

POV: Piper

I lost my virginity, committed multiple crimes, and fell in love with the biggest asshole in Bellweather, Texas.

And somehow, that wasn’t even the craziest part of my senior year.

It all began on a hot Texas day.

And the air conditioner was broken again...

I was sweating everywhere. My forehead, my armpits. Between the fabric of my jean shorts.

I shifted on the stool behind the counter and tugged my T-shirt away from my chest, groaning at the sweat stain that was forming between my breasts.

“Come on,” I muttered, staring up at the vents above me.

I tapped the power button on the wall multiple times.

Nothing.

Outside, the afternoon sun had turned Bellweather, Texas, into something resembling the surface of Mars. The air was so hot, you could see shimmering ripples of heat hanging in the air. And the small patch of grass near the sidewalk out front, had faded into a dark yellow.

There hadn’t been many customers today-not that my dad had much competition. Windrey’s wasn’t technically the only convenience store in Bellweather, but we were the only one that sold gas. Two pumps sat beneath a faded red awning out front. And about ten feet away, a tall sign that said, “STOP FOR GAS NOW" towered above the street.

Windrey’s was the only place that sold gas for the next 100 miles.

I sighed and looked back down at my physics textbook, tapping the end of my pencil along the top of the page.

The angular momentum of a rigid body rotating about a fixed axis is—

“Pip,” a voice said to my left.

Something cold bumped against the bare skin of my arm. I looked up to see my dad standing beside me, a cold can of Dr Pepper in one hand and a packet of Hot Cheetos in the other.

I grabbed the can and pressed it against my cheek with a sigh.

Dad laughed. “That bad?”

“I’m considering climbing into the freezer actually,” I replied.

He slid the Hot Cheetohs closer to me. “I guess you don’t want these then?”

I narrowed my eyes at them, “I’ll still eat them.”

He nodded at my textbook, “What are you reading about?”

“Angular momentum,” I smiled.

He smiled back-as if he understood exactly what I meant. But I knew he didn’t. Dad hadn’t finished high school. He’d left early to help out his family here in Bellweather, where he had been born and raised. And now-he was still here.

He reached over the counter and opened the bag of Cheetohs and pulled a few out of the bag.

I slapped his hand away. “Hey!” Then, I pulled the packet against my chest.

Dad laughed and gave me a wink before wiping the red dust onto his jeans. I noticed the dark circles that had formed under his eyes. He was always tired.

Windrey’s opened at five every morning, and Dad was the one who unlocked the doors. He’d owned the place since before I was born. Back when the air conditioner was brand new.

Back before mom died.

To me, Windrey’s had always been home.

Dad tapped my textbook, “School doesn’t start until tomorrow. You’re still on summer break.”

I shrugged.

“Don’t study too hard,” he sighed. He jerked his thumb toward the back of the store. “You good out here? I need to go out back and do stock take.”

“Yep,” I replied, my eyes moving back to my book.

He disappeared through the door behind the counter. A few seconds later, I heard a box scrape across the stockroom floor.

I opened my soda and took a long drink, then set it beside my notebook and returned to the section I had been studying.

School started tomorrow. My senior year. Three hundred and something days from now, I would walk across a stage, collect my diploma and be finished with Bellweather High forever.

Then…

Harvard.

Hopefully.

No.

Not hopefully.

Harvard.

I needed to manifest it. I had worked too damn long and too hard not to.

I hadn’t spent the last decade maintaining a perfect GPA, joining every academic extracurricular I could fit into my schedule and volunteering at the library just to get rejected.

I had even joined a sport despite my severe coordination issues. By that I mean that I was horrendous at anything athletic. That’s why golf had been my best bet. I was terrible at it, but I needed to be able to add it to my application. Even if I didn’t bring in any trophies.

I had a plan. And tomorrow was the beginning of the final part of it.

I turned the page and read the next line of text.

Just then, a low rumble sounded somewhere outside.

I ignored it. Just another customer.

The angular momentum causes—

The rumble grew louder. I sighed and stopped reading.

Bellweather had enough trucks that I’d learned to tune them out years ago. But this sound was different. It was rougher and lower.

The sound rolled along the street until it seemed to vibrate through the glass windows at the front of the store.

I looked out the window and saw a motorcycle come into view. It was sleek, silver and black. The rider wore a white t-shirt, jeans and a black helmet.

The rider leaned into the turn just before the driveway, gravel scattering beneath the tires. I watched as he pulled beneath the awning and stopped beside pump number two.

The engine cut off.

Ah, silence. I turned back to my book.

The fixed axis is critical to—

The bell above the door jingled and a wave of heat rushed inside.

I kept my eyes on my textbook, ignoring the sound of the door swinging shut.

Whoever it was walked straight past the counter without saying anything. Dad hated it when I ignored the customers. He said I needed to greet everyone. Every single time.

I sighed and looked up.

He was standing in front of the beer cooler at the back of the store. He reached out and opened the cooler door. His white t-shirt was stuck to his back with sweat.

Bellweather was small enough that I didn’t just know everyone my age. I knew their parents, their siblings and, in several unfortunate cases, which of their relatives had been arrested.

This guy was not from here-not all customers were. But we didn’t usually get young new people. Just old truckers passing through. I watched as he disappeared around the end of the aisle.

I looked back at my textbook. I heard glass bottles clinking against one another.

I underlined the sentence I’d just read and drew a star next to it. It was important.

I heard the cooler door shut, followed by the sound of boot-clad feet walking towards me.

A six-pack of beer landed...directly on top of my book.

I stared at it, my mouth dropping open. I slowly raised my eyes.

He had broad shoulders, tanned skin and a face that God himself would be jealous of. Even with his dark hair flattened against his head due to his helmet.

There was a tiny scar through one of his eyebrows. He looked around my age-potentially older, but not by much.

And annoyingly, unfairly attractive given what he had just done to my physics book.

I narrowed my eyes at him, lifted the six-pack from the top of my book and set it to the side.

“ID,” I said flatly.

His eyebrows lifted.

I pointed at the beer. “ID.”

He smiled, “You always this friendly?”

I stared at him in silence, my arms crossed over my chest.

He laughed. “Seriously?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” I said slowly.

His gaze moved over my face slowly, before stopping to examine my glasses, “A little.”

I held out my hand, “Have you got it or not?”

He sighed dramatically, “Are you even allowed to sell the beer?”

Damnit, he was right. Dad was always at the store, so when someone bought alcohol, he always came out to do the purchase.

But this guy had really pissed me off. So...I just kept staring at him.

He slid his license across the counter. I picked it up and turned it carefully in my hand. The birthday told me he was 23, and it had his picture. But something told me it was a fake.

“Nope,” I said, placing it back on the counter.

He leaned one forearm against the counter. “No?”

“You need to be twenty-one,” I shrugged.

He looked at the six-pack, then back at me, “I thought you might be cool.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

He nodded toward the beer. “I thought you might let it slide.”

“Why would I do that?” I scoffed.

He shrugged, “I don’t know. To live a little?”

His eyes dropped to the physics textbook again, then to the pencil in my hand, and his expression changed.

“Oh,” he chuckled. “I see.”

“What?” I asked, eyes narrow.

He reached across the counter and turned my textbook slightly. I slapped my hand on it.

“Don’t touch my book.”

He smiled smugly. “You’re a nerd.”

He reached for the six-pack and headed back towards the cooler. My eyes moved down the length of him. Too bad he was such a dick, because I had to admit it.

He had a nice ass.

I tried to convince myself that I was just making sure he didn’t steal anything.

He returned with a bottle of Coke and put it on the counter.

I scanned it, “Two twenty-five.”

He handed me three dollars, and I opened the register.

“So,” he said, “what are you studying so hard for?”

I counted out his change and slid it across the counter, “None of your business.”

He scooped up the change and shoved it into his pocket, then he picked up his Coke.

“You know, you should try having fun,” he said.

“Get out,” I hissed, pointing towards the exit.

He laughed and headed for the door. “Bye, Nerd.” Then, he turned around, walking backward. He gave me a wink, then pushed through the door.

“Asshole,” I muttered.

He stopped, the door partially open. “What was that?”

“Have a nice day,” I said sweetly. “Be sure to visit us again soon.”

His smile widened, then the door closed and he was gone. I stared at him through the window and watched as he pulled his helmet on, swung one leg over the motorcycle and started the engine.

The roar filled the parking lot, his tires rotated, spraying gravel around him before he took off.

I looked down at my textbook. The page was still open to angular momentum.

I picked up my pencil and read the sentence again.

Then again. Then again.

I hadn’t absorbed a word.

“Asshole,” I muttered once more.