No. It smells like you. Diesel and desperation. It’s my new sleep aid.
But the night of the hoodie changed things. Derek’s band was playing a show at a grimy venue downtown. I was there for support, nursing a warm PBR and pretending to enjoy the feedback screech of his guitar. The crowd was thin, mostly girlfriends and guys who’d wandered in for the cheap bar.
I could practically hear her laugh—that low, throaty hum that Derek swore was just her “weird vocal fry.” I knew better. It was a weapon.
And despite everything, I couldn’t let that happen. Phatassedangel69 - Best Friend-s Obsessive Sister
“Then let’s go,” she said, taking my hand. “Before he changes his mind and comes looking for you.”
That was the moment I realized: Chloe wasn’t a crush. She wasn’t a phase. She was a bonfire, and I’d been standing too close for months, pretending I wasn’t already burning. The explosion came three days later.
“It’s not a grudge, genius.” She pulled back, her smile sharp and beautiful. “It’s an obsession.” It’s my new sleep aid
I should have walked away. I should have turned, driven home, and spent the next year apologizing to Derek. But I didn’t.
“I can’t,” I said.
“Because you would never choose me,” she said. “Not while he was in the way. So I removed him from the equation.” I was there for support, nursing a warm
She knocked back the shot in one smooth motion, then turned to face me fully, her knees parting to bracket my leg. “Whose law? Your dad’s? Derek’s? Because last I checked, I’m a grown woman who knows exactly what she wants.” She leaned in, her lips nearly brushing my ear. “And I’ve wanted you since I was fifteen, when you showed up to my brother’s birthday party with a black eye and a bloody knuckle because you’d defended him in a fight. You didn’t even know I was watching from the stairs. But I was.”
But at 11:57 PM, I found myself pulling on my jacket. Not because I wanted to see her. Not because I believed a word she said. But because I knew Chloe—the real Chloe, the one beneath the chaos and the games—and I knew she would wait there all night. Alone. In the cold.
My blood went cold. I hadn’t deleted anything. But I knew who had.
The notification popped up on my phone at 2:17 AM, a gremlin hour reserved for bad decisions and confessional texts.
That girl was gone. In her place was a chaos agent with a broken moral compass and an encyclopedic memory of every awkward thing I’d ever said.