Lips Like Sugar Chloe
Lips Like Sugar
Chloe
Twenty-One Years Ago
The bass was pumping, the Killers were singing about Mr. Brightside, and the basement of Gerry Lang’s house smelled like teenagers and weed.
Chloe Barrow had a very pleasant contact high, but she worried that her clothes were going to smell.
Her mom would kill her if she came home stoned.
She glanced at her watch, happy to realize she didn’t have to be home for another hour; her curfew was midnight, and her house was only a three-minute walk from Gerry’s. Sweet. She’d air out along the way.
She was a fourteen-year-old freshman at the party of the semester, a little bit high, and Andrew Locke had been following her around for the past thirty minutes.
Talk about a dream come true. Andrew was a junior, the quarterback of the football team in the fall and baseball captain in the spring.
He was handsome, wealthy, and a serious catch.
That he would pay her any attention at all was maybe .
. . only on a dare? They were playing truth or dare earlier; she saw him in his knot of friends, being jostled about and hooted at.
He was sweaty and blushing, and she was burning inside.
She’d never wanted anything more in her young life than to talk to him.
She watched him dipping in and out of conversations, entirely at ease with his place in the world, tossing her glances.
She bit her lip. She had precisely zero ideas of how to seduce and attract a man outside of being bookish and clever, like the girls in the shows she watched and books she read.
That she could do; bookish described her to a T.
And if given the right situation, she could be clever.
She’d managed to hold her own at this party without falling flat on her face.
Despite her lack of gymnastic ability, she was going to try out for cheerleading next week, which would put her squarely in Andrew’s sights at all times.
Everyone knew the jocks didn’t date anyone but cheerleaders. And she could yell really loud. Her friends thought she was a shoo-in. Crazy, but she could get the spot.
Andrew met her eyes and started toward her.
This was it. He was really about to talk to her.
Up close, he was even bigger than she realized.
She barely came up to his collarbone. He smelled like pot, and sweat, and beer, and boy.
His eyes were the most fabulous color, a clear light brown.
Like honey. He might as well have been honey, and she a desperate bee.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” she replied.
“Ya wanna dance?”
“Sure.”
What happened next could have been called dancing, if the spasmodic steps of a drunk sixteen-year-old qualified. She tried to keep up, but the song shifted and he stumbled into her, grabbing her by both arms to hold himself up.
“Sorry,” he laughed. “I’m not the best dancer.”
“We could just talk.”
Whoops and hollers; a bong was being passed around. Andrew took it with the gravity of a professor about to lecture on the legends of Odysseus but didn’t take a hit. Instead, he offered it to Chloe.
“Oh, um, I probably shouldn’t. My mom will kill me.”
He smiled. “That’s cool,” and handed it off.
He looped his arms across her shoulders and led her to the kitchen.
A beer appeared, foaming over the top of a red plastic cup, and she accepted it gingerly.
It tasted horrid, like musky salt, and he took it back, swigging deeply.
“Mmm. Hoppy. So ya wanna be my girlfriend?”
Chloe froze. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t hear, see, swallow, or close her gaping mouth. Then time began again. Definitely sent over here on a dare. But hell . . .
“Um . . . okay. Yeah. Cool.”
“Good. I’ve been watching you. You’re the prettiest girl in school.”
And his lips were on hers. The kiss was sloppy, but with a hint of restraint and power, and she melted into him, letting him pull her close, gluing to his body, all the while trying not to analyze that Andrew Locke is kissing me!
Maybe not a dare?
“Chloe!”
And just like that, her heart dropped. She sprang away from Andrew like he was a burning-hot coal, wiping lip gloss and beer foam off her chin.
Her sister, Eden, had managed to invade the party like the ever-present pest that she was.
Two years older, a junior like Andrew, and a total grump, Eden was not popular. She was all brains and no charm. She did not go to parties. She did not interact with the cool kids. She stayed home and read and dreamed up ways to make Chloe’s teenage years hell.
Eden’s eyes narrowed into the look that presaged one of her tantrums. “What are you doing here? You’re not allowed to go to these parties.
And you’ve been drinking, I can smell it on you.
Not to mention all the pot here. Mom’s going to be furious.
Come on. We’re leaving.” She grabbed Chloe’s arm, but Andrew inserted himself between the sisters.
“Why are you here, Eden? Spying on your little sister? Don’t worry, I’ve got her well in hand.” He cupped Chloe’s ass with one big hand, which gave her a thrill, and she couldn’t help the wide smile that bloomed.
“I’m here because you’re mauling my little sister. Let her go, Locke.”
Andrew laughed and tugged Chloe tighter to his side. “I’ll let her go when she wants me to. Step off, Eden. This doesn’t concern you.”
Eden looked like she might explode. “Chloe, don’t make a stupid mistake. Come home with me, right now, and I won’t tell Mom what you’ve been up to.”
“I haven’t been up to anything. And I will be home by curfew.” Chloe’s chin rose a little with the declaration, made brave in her dissent, and Eden shook her head.
“Then you are a bigger idiot than I ever thought you could be. You two deserve each other.”
She flounced away, and Chloe felt a crazy warmth spread through her. This is what it means to grow up, she thought. She’d defied her sister, made her own choice.
Andrew Locke was still holding on to her for dear life, now with newfound respect in his honey-colored eyes.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. She’s a bitch.”
“Don’t disagree with you there.” He grinned and kissed her again. And she was swept away.