Summer with my Bestie’s Brother

1. Chloe

Chapter one

Chloe

W ith a heavy sigh, I shut the trunk of my car and then turn my gaze up longingly at the towering apartment building that has been my home for the past two years. I brush away a stray tear from my cheek, my fingers lingering on the coolness of my skin. Absentmindedly, I grab a lock of my hair and start to chew on the end to soothe the anxiety pulsing through me.

Damn. I hadn’t seen this coming.

I’d always dreamed of being a big city girl. Of living that glamorous, metropolitan life I’d always seen on TV growing up. I’d left home na?ve and full of hope.

Now, I’m returning home, jaded and broke.

Shaking my head in disappointment, I climb into the driver’s seat of my overly packed car, squeezing the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. The engine roars to life with a reluctant grumble, echoing my mood.

As I navigate through the midday traffic, I fumble with my phone, dialing up my best friend’s number. My fingers tap nervously on the steering wheel, a subconscious rhythm of my anxiety. “Damn it,” I mutter as a car cuts me off with a loud honk. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

Thankfully, she picks up after two rings.

“Chloe! Hey, girl. Are you on your way?”

Letting out a long breath, I say, “Hey, Lauren. Yeah, I am.”

“Ah, don’t sound so sad,” Lauren replies in a sympathetic tone. “I know this isn’t what you’d planned, but it’ll all be okay. Besides, you’re coming to live with me! We’re going to have so much fun together!”

That thought does make me smile a little. She’s being so generous and not even making me pay rent since she owns her house outright. But I still feel like a failure for relying on my best friend to pick up the pieces of my broken life.

I don’t have anyone else to turn to, though. My mom died when I was a kid, and my dad died in my junior year of high school. Lauren’s family let me stay with them throughout my senior year; otherwise, I don’t know what would’ve happened to me. I already owe her so much, and now, I’m going to be more in debt to her than before. Still, she’s my best friend…if I have to owe anyone, I’m glad it’s her.

“Lauren, you have no idea how much I appreciate this,” I respond, my voice shaky. “I just…I never thought I’d be back so soon.”

The line is silent for a moment before Lauren replies with a soft, “Chloe, everyone stumbles at some point, but that doesn’t mean you failed. It’s just a detour.”

“I know Still, things were going so well…until Phil dumped me. Everything just fell apart after that.”

“Phil’s a jerk,” Lauren huffs. “But as much as I’d like to, you can’t exactly blame him for your company going under.”

“Yeah.” I nod, even though she can’t see me. “I suppose that’s true. The timing of everything just sucks.” Just days after my ex-boyfriend decided to end things because he found another girl with more “desirable assets,” the multi-media company I was working for went under after the owners mismanaged their money so badly that they were forced into bankruptcy.

“Forget about Phil and the company, Chloe. You’re a smart and talented woman. You’ll pull through this with flying colors.”

I swallow my response, holding back the tears that are threatening to spill over. How can she be so optimistic? It feels like my world has come crashing down around me, and I’m not sure how to pull myself out of the rubble.

In contrast, she sounds so confident and assured. Lauren has lived a privileged life and comes from money, so she’s never really had to worry about things like empty bank accounts or wondering how she’ll pay the electric bill. That’s not to say she’s a snob by any means. She’s grounded and kind, and she’s never been one to shove her family’s money in my face.

Still, our perspective on the world is different. For her, this is just a little setback that I’ll be able to bounce back from, no problem.

For me, I have no idea about how I’m going to pull my life back together.

Another loud honk startles me, and I nearly drop my phone. “Watch where you’re going!” I shout at the oblivious driver, my frustration boiling over.

“Everything okay?” Lauren asks, concern lacing her voice.

“Just some idiot on the road.” I grip the steering wheel tighter in a weak attempt to center myself. “Thanks, Lauren, for everything.”

“Don’t mention it,” she says cheerfully. “Just drive safe, and get here in one piece. We’ll celebrate and get drunk tonight. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds great.” Hanging up the phone, I take a moment to allow Lauren’s words to sink in. A fresh start. I glance at my reflection in the mirror, noticing the bags under my eyes and the dampness on my cheeks. I’ve been crying almost every day since everything started falling apart.

I click on the radio, hoping that some upbeat music will help to lighten my mood. The first few notes of one of my favorite upbeat pop songs come pouring from the speakers. I can’t help but laugh a little at how perfectly timed it is. It’s as if someone up there knows exactly what I need right now.

The next few hours pass in a blur as the cityscape gives way to familiar country roads lined with tall trees as I make my way to Newport. It feels oddly comforting, like slipping into an old sweater on a cold winter night. In spite of everything that has happened, I feel a sense of calm slowly replacing the bitterness and regret churning in my stomach.

As night falls, the faint glow of street lights comes into view ahead. I turn down Lauren’s street and take in the adorable houses and perfectly kept lawns. It isn’t as fancy of a neighborhood as she grew up in, but it’s still way nicer than anything I’d be able to afford on my own.

Pulling up outside her house, I find her waiting for me on the front porch. She’s holding two glasses and an unopened bottle of wine, and she’s grinning like she’s just won the lottery.

“Welcome home,” she calls out as I step out of the car.

While looking at her warm smile and the inviting glow of her house, I realize that maybe our hometown isn’t such a terrible place to start over again.

“I’m glad to be back,” I say softly, smiling back at her as I stride across the porch to where she’s waiting for me.

“I bet you didn’t expect a welcoming committee, did you?” Lauren jokes, waving the bottle of wine in her hand teasingly. I shake my head, and my smile broadens by the second.

“No, not really.”

She pours us each a glass of wine before leading me inside her beautifully decorated home.

The smell of vanilla-scented candles fill the air, and the lights are set to a soft glow. The house is as pristine as ever, and I find myself taking a moment to appreciate it. The clean walls dotted with family photos, the plush sofa set that looks perfect for sinking into after a long day, the wooden coffee table adorned with magazines—everything about her house screams comfort.

“Let’s toast,” Lauren says while raising her glass in my direction after we’ve settled onto that welcoming couch. I clink mine against hers, feeling a strange sense of relief wash over me. “To new beginnings.”

“To new beginnings.” I take a sip from my glass.

As the wine slides down my throat, I feel a warmth spread through me, pushing away the last remnants of the day’s stress. I lean back against the back of the couch and let my eyes wander around the room.

Lauren is watching me with a thoughtful expression.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Just taking it all in,” I reply with a faint smile. “Still searching for the silver lining.”

Lauren clicks her tongue sympathetically. “Well, one silver lining is that we’re together again.” Then, she reaches over to grab the bottle on the coffee table to refill both of our glasses.

I nod. “You’re right. That is a hell of a silver lining.”

We spend the next hour or so talking, drinking, and laughing. In Lauren’s company, the depression that’s been dogging me actually lifts, and I’m able to relax for what feels like the first time in months.

Eventually, we end up sprawled out on the plush rug in front of her fireplace as we crack open our third bottle.

“So,” she says, releasing a breath, “what do you think you’re going to do for work?”

“I don’t know yet,” I confess. “I need some time to figure things out.”

She nods and reaches out to rub my arm. “You have all the time in the world, Chlo.”

“I just hope that I can make something out of this fresh start,” I murmur apprehensively.

“You will.” Lauren’s certainty is heartening. I wish I could believe in myself the way she does. Then again, she’s always been a supportive friend, one who’s had more faith in me than I’ve had in myself.

Suddenly, she jumps up from her position on the floor with an excited whoop.

“Do you want to see something?” she asks, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

I blink up at her, momentarily taken aback. I should be used to her seemingly random bursts of energy and excitement by now, but she still has the ability to surprise me.

“Sure,” I say as I let her pull me up from the floor.

Lauren leads me to the room she uses as her studio—she’s an amazing artist, but her work has recently been demoted to a part-time hobby because of her demanding job as an interior designer for her dad’s company. The room has a rustic charm to it, with sketches and paintings adorning the walls and a cluttered workspace filled with paint tubes and brushes.

She points towards a particular painting tucked away in one corner. It’s a younger version of me laughing, my hair caught in the wind. The accuracy is startling, and I find myself lost in the memory of that day. We’d just finished our high school graduation ceremony, and I’d walked out of the auditorium feeling ready to conquer the world. My future seemed so bright then. I was heading off to college and going to start my real life. I was all optimism, which is evident in the wide smile and sparkling eyes of the portrait.

That girl is gone now, replaced with a worn-down loser who has to run back home so she doesn’t end up on the streets.

“I’ve been working on it for a while now,” Lauren says. “I was going to save it for your birthday, but now seems like a better time to show it to you.”

I’m too overwhelmed to speak.

Instead, I throw my arms around her in a tight hug, whispering a choked, “Thank you.”

She returns my hug warmly before shoving me gently towards the painting again.

“Take it,” she insists. “It’s yours.”

I hesitantly pick up the canvas and study it more closely. After all the turmoil of the past few weeks, holding that painting feels like holding onto a piece of myself I’d thought was lost. As I look at it again, I feel something akin to hope flickering to life within me, but it’s faint.

“Lauren, this is…” I stutter, struggling for words. “I mean, how did you even…?”

“I have my ways.” She winks. She then points at the painting again. “But more than focusing on how I nailed that expression of yours, focus on the girl in that painting. That’s who you are.”

“Who I used to be,” I correct her morosely.

“No,” Lauren retorts firmly. “You still are. This,” she says while waving her hand at the painting, “is what you need to remember.”

I gaze down at the painting and try to see what she does. I try to find that same carefree girl inside of me somewhere, but she just feels like a memory, like another remnant of my past that feels just out of reach.

Lauren places a hand on my shoulder. “Come on. Let me show you your room. You can take the painting there if you want to.”

I look up at her, smile, and nod. “Yeah, I do.”

As I follow her out of her studio, I feel a bubbling of determination deep inside me. I’m not going to let these setbacks keep me down. I may not feel like the girl in Lauren’s painting anymore, but I think I can find her again. I just need to get my head back on straight and put the disappointments of the city behind me…though I’ve no doubt that’s going to be easier said than done.