Read Online Good Girl Complex by Elle Kennedy - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elle Kennedy
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PDA is a plus, especially when we’re around our families. I realized at a young age that masking my emotions and repressing my occasional wild streak were necessary survival tools in our world.
“You ready?” he asks.
“Lead the way.”
It’s a beautiful day, if a little warm, as Pres guides me on a tour across the campus. Our first stop, of course, is Kincaid Hall, which houses the business school. Preston’s family is a legacy at Garnet, going back generations.
Pres laces his fingers through mine and leads us outside again. As we stroll down a tree-lined path toward the art school, I admire the passing scenery. The campus truly is beautiful. Redbrick buildings.A great clock tower over the library. Sprawling green lawns and giant, majestic oak trees. I might not be enthused about college life, but at least everything is pretty to look at.
“What do you think of school so far?”
With Preston, I can be honest, so I sigh. “I’m bored out of my mind.”
He chuckles. “I was the same way as a freshman, remember? For the first couple years until you can start upper level courses, it’s pretty tedious.”
“At least you have a purpose.” We walk past the theater department, where students are in the parking lot, painting what looks to be an old-timey street set. “You need a certain level of education to work for your dad’s bank. There are expectations and requirements. But I already have my own business. I’m my own boss, and I don’t need to get a degree to prove anything to anyone.”
Smiling, Pres squeezes my hand. “That’s what I love about you, babe. You don’t wait for permission. You didn’t want to wait to grow up to become a tycoon.”
“See?” I say, beaming. “You get it.”
“But look, if you really want to keep working on your little tech thing in college, then think of Garnet as your incubator. There’s going to be lots of opportunities for you to grow your brand here.”
Huh. I hadn’t thought about it that way. Although I’m not in love with his phrasing—
my little tech thing?
—I realize he’s right.
“You make a good point there, Mr. Kincaid.” I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his clean-shaven cheek before ambling forward again.
Another reason Pres and I are well-suited to each other: We’re both business-minded people. Neither of us is enchanted by an artist’s idealism, or distracted by romantic notions of backpacking across Europe or hiking Machu Picchu. We’re products of our upbringing, and our cold blood runs blue. Two formidable, future heads of empires.
There’s a lot to be said for compatibility.
After we explore the art building and the small museum where student work is displayed, wander among the sculptures in the botanical gardens, and follow the footpath through the greenhouse and vegetable garden, Preston brings me around to his car.
“Come on, there’s something else I want to show you.” He opens the door for me, and I slide onto the sleek, leather passenger seat. He puts the top down on the silver Porsche convertible before we drive off.
It’s a short ride around the back of the campus, past the sports complex and up a hill, before we eventually reach a tall, circular building with a dome. The astronomy department’s telescope. Preston leads me to the side of the building, to a door that’s been propped open with a small wooden block.
“Are we supposed to be here?” I ask as we creep inside a narrow hallway that wraps around the circumference of the building.
“I know a guy.” Then Preston puts his index finger to his lips. “But no, not really.”
We follow the hallway to a metal staircase. On the second floor, we enter a room with computers along the wall and a massive telescope in the center, pointed to the sky through a wide slit in the roof.
“Oh, cool,” I say, walking toward the telescope.
Preston stops me. “That’s not what we came to see.”
Instead, he leads me to a door, then a ladder going up to the roof.
“You ready?” he asks.
“Lead the way.”
It’s a beautiful day, if a little warm, as Pres guides me on a tour across the campus. Our first stop, of course, is Kincaid Hall, which houses the business school. Preston’s family is a legacy at Garnet, going back generations.
Pres laces his fingers through mine and leads us outside again. As we stroll down a tree-lined path toward the art school, I admire the passing scenery. The campus truly is beautiful. Redbrick buildings.A great clock tower over the library. Sprawling green lawns and giant, majestic oak trees. I might not be enthused about college life, but at least everything is pretty to look at.
“What do you think of school so far?”
With Preston, I can be honest, so I sigh. “I’m bored out of my mind.”
He chuckles. “I was the same way as a freshman, remember? For the first couple years until you can start upper level courses, it’s pretty tedious.”
“At least you have a purpose.” We walk past the theater department, where students are in the parking lot, painting what looks to be an old-timey street set. “You need a certain level of education to work for your dad’s bank. There are expectations and requirements. But I already have my own business. I’m my own boss, and I don’t need to get a degree to prove anything to anyone.”
Smiling, Pres squeezes my hand. “That’s what I love about you, babe. You don’t wait for permission. You didn’t want to wait to grow up to become a tycoon.”
“See?” I say, beaming. “You get it.”
“But look, if you really want to keep working on your little tech thing in college, then think of Garnet as your incubator. There’s going to be lots of opportunities for you to grow your brand here.”
Huh. I hadn’t thought about it that way. Although I’m not in love with his phrasing—
my little tech thing?
—I realize he’s right.
“You make a good point there, Mr. Kincaid.” I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his clean-shaven cheek before ambling forward again.
Another reason Pres and I are well-suited to each other: We’re both business-minded people. Neither of us is enchanted by an artist’s idealism, or distracted by romantic notions of backpacking across Europe or hiking Machu Picchu. We’re products of our upbringing, and our cold blood runs blue. Two formidable, future heads of empires.
There’s a lot to be said for compatibility.
After we explore the art building and the small museum where student work is displayed, wander among the sculptures in the botanical gardens, and follow the footpath through the greenhouse and vegetable garden, Preston brings me around to his car.
“Come on, there’s something else I want to show you.” He opens the door for me, and I slide onto the sleek, leather passenger seat. He puts the top down on the silver Porsche convertible before we drive off.
It’s a short ride around the back of the campus, past the sports complex and up a hill, before we eventually reach a tall, circular building with a dome. The astronomy department’s telescope. Preston leads me to the side of the building, to a door that’s been propped open with a small wooden block.
“Are we supposed to be here?” I ask as we creep inside a narrow hallway that wraps around the circumference of the building.
“I know a guy.” Then Preston puts his index finger to his lips. “But no, not really.”
We follow the hallway to a metal staircase. On the second floor, we enter a room with computers along the wall and a massive telescope in the center, pointed to the sky through a wide slit in the roof.
“Oh, cool,” I say, walking toward the telescope.
Preston stops me. “That’s not what we came to see.”
Instead, he leads me to a door, then a ladder going up to the roof.
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