2. Chloe #2
Sloane was talking to a girl, her eyes focused.
She always did that, gave her complete attention to whoever was talking to her.
It was one of the many things I liked about her.
But as the conversation went on, I realized this girl might be interested in Sloane.
My best friend looked like a vision I’d somehow missed for over a decade.
The off-the-shoulder top highlighted the elegant slope of her creamy neck, and the way the dim party lights hit her dark hair made it look like ink.
She looked poised, mysterious, and—to my utter surprise—completely alluring.
Why has she never dated anyone? The thought hit me like a physical blow.
I knew she’d been out since we were sixteen, but she’d never brought a girl home, never even complained about a bad date.
I’d always just assumed she was too busy with her goals to date.
But looking at her now, I realized how many women in this room would probably kill for a chance to talk to be with her.
The thought made my chest tighten with a possessive heat that was entirely new.
I caught my reflection in a window, and for a second, I didn't recognize the girl looking back. I was the one who needed the noise. I was the one who needed the guys to feel like I was alive. I was the one who needed her. And she’d just been there for me.
My mind flashed back to our junior year of high school.
The "Big Lake" camping trip. I’d come down with a brutal fever the second night, shivering so hard I couldn't speak. While everyone else was at the bonfire, drinking stolen beer and flirting, Sloane had stayed in the tent with me. She’d spent hours pressing cool damp cloths to my forehead, whispering stories about the stars until I finally fell asleep. She’d missed the "cool" party of the year without a single complaint.
Had I stolen her chance to be with a woman?
Had I monopolized all her time with my needs?
Even at eighteen, I’d decided to go to this college, and she’d just come along, saying she wanted us to be together.
Did I even regret it? The air around me felt too warm, buzzing with a realization I wasn’t ready to face.
"Looking for this?"
A hand reached past me, grabbing a cup from the counter. I turned, and my stomach dropped. Tyler. He looked exactly the same—the backward cap, the smug grin, the "I-own-this-room" posture. Months ago, I’d found him attractive, but now, comparing him to Sloane, he looked shallow and annoying.
"Hey, Chloe," he said, leaning in too close. "I saw you walk in with your little shadow. Cute. But come on, you’ve had your fun. Let’s go somewhere quiet and talk about that manifesto I sent you."
I felt a surge of cold fury. "I’m not here with my 'shadow,' Tyler. She has a name."
I pushed past him, my heart racing, and marched back to Sloane. She looked up as I approached, her expression softening instantly when she saw me. I didn't hand her the drink. Instead, I set both cups down on the bookshelf behind her and slid my arm firmly around her waist.
Her petite frame fit perfectly against my side, her hip tucked against mine. She felt warm, solid, and so incredibly right.
"Tyler was just asking why I’m here," I said, my voice projecting just enough for the people nearby to hear.
Tyler had followed me, his grin faltering as he saw my hand splayed across Sloane’s back.
"Yeah. I was wondering if you were just babysitting your best friend tonight.
" He turned to Sloane, who leaned closer to me.
“You clean up well, Sloane. But Chloe and I have got things to discuss. Give us some space—”
"She isn’t going anywhere," I said, pulling Sloane even closer, feeling the jolt of her heartbeat against my arm. "Say whatever you want right here.”
“In front of your best friend? Come on, Chloe, I need privacy.”
“No, not in front of my best friend,” I said, going for the kill. “In front of my girlfriend.” Sloane’s head swirled to me, and she was biting her lower lip nervously.
The silence that followed was the loudest thing in the room. Tyler’s jaw literally dropped. "Your... what?” His eyes moved between Sloane and me as Sloane’s hands came around my waist, holding me and confirming it. “You two are dating? Since when?"
"Since I realized I needed someone who actually knows me," I said, looking Tyler dead in the eye. "I’m done with you, Tyler. I’m not interested in your stupid manifesto or apologies. I’ve found someone better."
I felt Sloane stiffen for a microsecond before she leaned into me, playing her part with a quiet, devastating grace. She looked at Tyler with an arched eyebrow, her dark eyes cool and unimpressed.
“You’re lying,” he said, disbelieving. “You’re friends….you can’t be dating.”
"Why not?” Sloane butted in. “We’ve known each other for a while, and I recently realized that I liked Chloe as more than a friend.
” My heart sped up, wishing those words were real.
She was doing a great job, though. “She’s been 'on a break' from your nonsense for a long time, Tyler. Chloe doesn’t belong to you, you know," Sloane said, her voice low and steady. "I think it’s time you caught up."
Tyler sputtered, looking between us, but the "power couple" energy we were radiating was too much for his ego to handle.
“This isn’t going to last.” He sputtered. “You always get bored and break up within a month, Chloe. None of them are ever good enough for you. You’ll get bored of her and come back to me.”
He turned on his heel as I shouted, “In your dreams, Tyler.”
He disappeared into the crowd, his eyes watching us as if something had just clicked in his mind.
We stood there after he walked away, knowing he was still watching me.
“Is he watching?” Sloane asked.
“Yeah. I think we need to do something.” I moved her around, pushing her back against the bookcase. She looked up at me, her brown eyes wide with anticipation. “I’m going to pretend to make out, okay?”
Her low breath was my only cue. I put my arms around her waist, holding her, loving how she fit into my arms. Her body pressed against mine as I backed her, eliminating the space between us.
Then, I leaned my head into the crook of Sloane’s neck, my nose brushing against the soft skin behind her ear.
She moaned when my lips brushed against her neck, and suddenly everything began to swim, even though I hadn’t taken a single sip of my drink.
She smelled like sandalwood and old books—a scent that had meant 'home' for fifteen years. But now, it meant something else. It meant danger. It meant attraction. It meant confusion. I couldn’t stop myself.
My mouth moved over her clean skin, brushing against the tiny hairs on the side of her neck, my skin burning up.
Sloane’s hand rest tentatively on my waist, squeezing as she turned her head, giving me more space. My lips drifted up and down the column of her neck, and when I gently pecked the base, she shuddered.
“I’m sensitive there,” she said, her voice husky, making desire pool low in my belly. “Sorry.”
“No problem.” I wanted to know where else she was sensitive.
I wanted to put my mouth on more than her neck.
My hands on her waist, I kept my face buried in the crook of her neck.
The crowd, the music, the lights—they all faded away.
There was only the heat of her body against mine and the terrifying realization that I was no longer acting. I wanted Sloane.