2. Chloe
2745 Words
2 CHLOE
The driver’s side door of the Chevy sprang open, and a tall, dark-headed guy unfolded himself from inside.
Only one other kid from our parents’ group of friends currently attended high school with Beau, Bella, Bentley, Gray, and me.
And that was Luke Hamilton.
He was a twelfth grader, so we rarely saw him in the halls. Not that he was very supportive and mentor-ly when he did see us. He usually harassed us more than anyone.
I guess it just wasn’t cool to befriend freshmen when you were a badass senior, especially if they were like family to you.
“Dude, did he bring a date?” Beau asked suddenly, perking to attention when Luke rounded the front hood of the car and started for the passenger-side door to open it.
“Holy s**t, he did,” Gracen murmured in awe. “I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend.”
“I don’t think he does,” Bella spoke up.
“Then who…?” Gray gasped when Luke reached down and helped a girl emerge. He blinked once, then strained forward, squinting. “Is that…?”
“Malia Ross,” Beau finished for him when Gray couldn’t seem to talk anymore. “Son of a bitch.” He cracked off an amused laugh. “How the hell did he manage that?”
“It’s Luke,” Bella answered simply before she smacked her brother in the gut. “Hey, you think he’s going to have s*x with her tonight?”
Beau snorted and answered for Bella’s brother. “Uh, hell yes, he is.”
“Damn…” was all Gracen could manage to murmur. I couldn’t tell if he was jealous or impressed. Probably a little of both.
The four of us watched in awe as Luke walked hand in hand with the high school p**n star—er, maybe p**n star—toward the entrance of the gym.
I didn’t think he was going to notice us at all, but just before entering, he glanced over and furrowed his brows in confusion before jerking to a stop.
“What’re you losers doing, hanging around out here? The dance is inside.”
“We’re waiting on Bentley,” I answered when the other three didn’t seem capable of speech in the presence of Malia.
“Bentley?” Luke echoed as if he had no clue who that was. Then he said, “Why didn’t Gamble bring her? He lives, like, five blocks from her house.”
Plus Beau had his own car, while Bentley did not.
“I—I didn’t…” Seemingly cornered, Beau glanced at the rest of us. “I thought she’d get a ride with you.”
When Gracen merely blinked at him as if that were a ridiculous assumption, Luke snorted. “God. What a bunch of dorks.” Then he slung his arm over Malia’s shoulders and disappeared inside with her. “Later, weirdos.”
“Was I supposed to bring her?” Beau asked, still concerned.
“I mean, you could’ve at least asked,” Bella told him, and he grew even more worried.
“But—”
“There,” I called, pointing when I spotted a familiar SUV pull up near the entrance. “Doesn’t matter now. She’s here.”
“Oh, thank God,” Beau said under his breath and immediately started toward her.
The rest of us naturally followed, Gracen elbowing me as we went. “Did you see Malia look at me? She totally looked, didn’t she? You think she knows who I am?”
“Well, she does now,” Bella answered, leaning past me to snicker at her twin. “You’re one of the loser dork ninth graders that Luke actually lowers himself to talk to.”
“Brat,” Gracen shot back, scowling at her before he leaned over to whisper to me, “She looked at me.”
I nodded conspiringly to make him feel better.
Meanwhile, Beau was beelining toward Bentley as she climbed from the SUV.
“Yeah, I have enough money to get in. Thanks. Love you too, Dad. Bye.” She shut the door, and her ride pulled away, leaving her alone with us.
“About time you showed,” Beau groused, slowing to a stop.
Bentley whirled, her long red hair gleaming in the streetlamp lights as she faced us. “Sorry,” she said, sounding breathless and apologetic. “I couldn’t find my shoes. They were hidden under a pair of my brother’s sneakers.”
“No worries. You’re right on time,” I told her, springing forward to hook my arm through hers and turn us toward the sound of music filtering into the night when a couple in front of us opened the front doors and entered the gym. “Shall we?”
“We shall!” Bella announced, appearing at my other side and getting in on the arm link.
The three of us stepped forward, and Gracen appeared next to Bella as Beau hurried up to walk at Bentley’s side.
“What’s this?” Beau asked, sounding confused, as he reached up toward Bentley’s hair and tweaked the wing of a silver butterfly nestled there.
“It’s a barrette,” she answered, annoyed, before batting away his hand. “Don’t touch it. You’ll make it crooked.”
“Since when did you start wearing butterflies?” he countered.
“I don’t know.” She sent him a frown as Gracen opened the door and held it for all of us to enter. “Since now. I thought it would make me look nice. Okay?”
She was starting to sound defensive, and Beau was beginning to look suspicious. A crease formed between his eyebrows. “Who’re you trying to look nice for?”
“I don’t know!” she cried, throwing up her hands in frustration. “It’s a dance. People tend to look nice for dances. Look at Chloe. She looks ready for the freaking prom.”
“Oh my God.” I immediately turned toward Bella. “Am I overdressed?”
“No, sweetie,” she answered, smoothing her hands down the sides of my arms before sending both Bentley and Beau a warning glance. Then she returned her attention to me. “You look perfect. Stop worrying.”
But my gut was already swirling, and my nerves were strung too tight. “I’m overdressed.”
“No. You’re fine, I swear,” Bentley insisted, hooking her arm through mine again. “You look great. Now let’s do this.”
As the five of us paused in the line that had formed in the foyer to get our entry tickets, I started to wring my hands. “Maybe I should go back to the car for my jacket.”
“No. Okay, here.” Sighing heavily, Bella forced me to face her. “Repeat after me,” she instructed. “I’m a sexy, confident beast. Any guy would be lucky to dance with me tonight.”
I groaned. “Yeah, I’m not saying that. I mean, look at me.” I spread my arms and looked down at myself. “Who would want to dance with all of this?”
“Beau and Gray will, for starters,” Bentley spoke up. “Right, guys?”
Both Beau and Gray looked distinctly put on the spot, but they must’ve known they couldn’t say no.
As they each grumbled their obligatory assent, I shook my head. “They don’t count. They’re like family.”
“That’s it,” Bella announced. “I bet you ten bucks Caine Spinnaker asks you to dance before the end of the night.”
I snorted and muttered, “Yeah, only after you pay him twenty.”
Bentley’s eyes widened as she glanced between me and Bella. “Caine Spinnaker, huh?” She shifted closer to ask me, “Is that who you like, Chloe? Nice.”
“You think Spinnaker’s cute?” Beau demanded in disbelief before wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Really?”
“What? He’d look cute with Chloe,” she argued.
“Guys…” Gracen nudged Bella’s arm. “We’re up.”
The five of us lifted our heads to see that we’d reached the front of the line, and it was time to enter our first high school formal.
Falling solemnly quiet, we each paid for a ticket and then filed inside the darkened interior that was lit only by colored strobes that circled the room from the deejay’s station.
From there, the five of us awkwardly shifted closer. Even Gray and Bella—the most socially adept members of our group—seemed intimidated.
“It’s loud,” Gray commented, lifting his voice above the music.
“And dark,” Bentley added.
“Should we dance?” Beau wondered.
“It’s the middle of a song,” Bella answered. “That’d be weird to join in now. We’ll catch the next one.”
I nodded, agreeing with her because I just felt so awkward and weird.
But as the current song ended, and a slow song took its place, the five of us winced at each other, not yet feeling the slow-song vibe.
Until Matt Sloan approached and asked Bella if she wanted to dance. She brightened and nodded before waving us goodbye and following him onto the floor. The four of us who remained tightened the gap she’d made with her departure and moved closer together.
“She’s a good dancer,” Bentley commented after a moment of watching Bella and Matt together.
“Well, she took dance classes with Chloe for, like, five years,” Gracen reminded her. “So she better be.”
“Why didn’t you ever take any classes with them?” Beau wondered, nudging Bentley’s arm.
“Me?” She looked up at him, her eyes widening. “Oh, I don’t dance.”
He looked a little crestfallen. “Ever?”
Gray snorted. “Then why did you come tonight?”
Bentley was looking cornered, and I could see Caine across the room with his friends.
Wanting to save her from further uncomfortable questions but also wanting to move closer to him—because if I was right there within his perimeters, it’d be easier for him to ask me to dance—I broke into the conversation, pointing. “Let’s go over there.”
“Uh…okay.” Gracen shrugged and started that way, not questioning my suggestion. The rest of us followed him like ducklings who couldn’t be separated from their brood.
We came up toward another part of the dance floor, almost directly behind Caine and his group. When Gracen glanced at me, his eyebrows lifted in question, I nodded my approval, and he stopped there.
Bentley leaned toward me and whispered, “OMG, he’s right…there.”
“I know. Shh,” I hissed at her from the side of my mouth, slapping at her to keep quiet.
She squeezed my arm and grinned encouragingly.
And the four of us inadvertently began to listen in on that group’s conversation as we continued to watch Bella dance with Matt.
“Did you see who Hamilton came with tonight?” one of the guys was saying. “Lucky bastard. You know he’s getting some tonight.”
Bentley and I glanced at each other to roll our eyes in unison as someone else snorted. “Forget that. Did you get a load of Chloe Ryan? Her dress is so tight it looks like someone had to roll her in butter first to get her into it.”
As my ears began to ring in utter embarrassment, Bentley grabbed my hand and squeezed hard. But I didn’t squeeze back. My face was burning flame hot, and I was trying not to expire on the spot.
Then, it happened. Caine Spinnaker snorted in amusement before he added, “Butter makes sense since it looks like she’s related to the Pillsbury Doughboy.”
As all his friends laughed, my heart freaking shattered.
It was one thing to overhear people slamming you; it was quite another to hear your ultimate crush leading the burn.
“Son of a b***h,” Gray breathed, glancing at my face in worry, just as Beau stepped toward the group of guys.
“What did you just say, motherfucker?” he demanded.
My band of mockers looked up in surprise. “Huh?” Caine sounded confused, probably because he hadn’t yet seen me standing right there behind them, even though one would think the Pillsbury Doughboy would be hard to miss.
“You don’t talk about Chloe like that,” Beau demanded threateningly. “Ever.”
Frowning, Caine lifted his hands and shifted backward, even as he snarled, “Hey, why don’t you mind your own business and get out of my face?”
“Sure,” Beau answered, only taking another step into his face. “As soon as you apologize to Chloe.” Then he nudged Caine in the chest, pushing him. “Right now.”
“Beau!” Bentley gasped in warning, but he was too busy getting surrounded by all of Caine’s pals.
As they squeezed in on him, Gracen popped forward to support his buddy.
The verbal argument continued until their puffed-up boy bravado ended with Beau swinging at Caine’s face, which started a full-fledged punching brawl.
Next to me, Bentley slapped her hands over her mouth in shock, while Bella appeared suddenly beside me before she leaped forward to push away one of the two guys that were swinging at her brother.
I shook my head, unable to believe what was happening.
They were defending my honor. Beau was getting punched in the face right now. Gracen caught a fist to the stomach. And Bella was jumping on Jeremiah Tanner’s back and pulling his hair.
Because of me.
I knew I should feel flattered and touched by the love and support. But I just felt so mortified and awful.
So I spun around and rushed off.
The worst thing about panicked, blind running, however, was that you couldn’t exactly see where you were going. I think I knocked over at least half a dozen people in my desperation to escape the gymnasium, ticking almost all of them off.
Choruses of, “Hey!” and, “Watch where you’re going!” and, “Fatso,” followed me to the door.
“What the…” one familiar voice had said before a confused “Chloe?” followed it, but I didn’t stick around long enough to see who it was.
As soon as I plowed my way into the hall, I sprinted as fast as a person in high heels and a tight skirt could. But when I reached the nearest bathroom—tears already filling my eyes—a trio of girls was exiting, blocking my path, and I could hear more voices inside.
Nothing would make my humiliation more complete than if I had witnesses to the meltdown I was about to experience, so I wheeled away and entered a different hall until I found a back bathroom that I knew no one would be using.
It was blessedly quiet and dark inside.
Exhaling in relief, I entered, and the motion sensors tripped the lights, flipping on what looked like a room full of mirrors.
I slowed to a stop and took in my tear-streaked face with mascara smudged everywhere, then lowered my gaze to the body that had caused all these problems.
“What was I thinking?” I demanded, wondering why in the world I had thought putting this on display would make it prettier.
Gah, I was such an i***t. Clomping toward a vinyl-padded bench that was pushed against the wall, I slumped down and buried my face in my hands before releasing the flood.
The tears came hot and heavy, and I didn’t even attempt to stop them.
I have no idea how long I cried, but my eyes were stinging, and my nose was sore from how many times I had blown it when the door opened and an accusing yet relieved male voice said, “There you are.”
I looked up and blinked in confusion when I found Luke of all people stepping into the girls’ restroom and letting the door swing shut behind him.
- Writer
