Chapter One
Chloe’s POV
“Morning, Chloe,” Mum says as I trudge downstairs.
“Morning,” I grunt, slumping onto a stool and snatching a strip of bacon off the plate.
Dad lowers his newspaper, eyeing me over the top of the frames. “You look thrilled.”
“I have to help the twins today,” I mutter.
Okay, quick context. I’m eighteen, which means college applications are looming on the horizon like a dark cloud. Since my list of extracurriculars currently stands at a grand total of zero, I decided to improvise and make up my own.
I volunteer to help blind and dyslexic people read.
Or, in today’s case, the twins—who happen to be dyslexic and dumb as dog shit.
Actually, that’s rude.
To the dogs.
“Oh, honey, I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Mum offers sweetly.
Before I could respond, a horn blares outside.
Salvation.
“See you later!” I grab my bag, sprinting out the door, and slide into the passenger seat of my best friend Ashley’s car.
“Hey,” Ashley says, checking her reflection in the rearview mirror as she reapplies her lip gloss. “We have to grab Bailey before we head to school.”
“Fine by me,” I lie. It was, in fact, not fine. I hated Bailey.
Bailey was convinced I was trying to steal her boyfriend. The reality? Rhys and I have been friends since we were in diapers. Sure, we lost our virginity to each other years ago, but we instantly realized there was zero spark and mutually agreed to stay friends. At this point, hooking up with Rhys would feel like hooking up with my brother.
Which is just gross.
When we pull up to Bailey’s house, she walks out with Rhys right behind her. They both climb into the back seat.
“Chloe,” Bailey says, her voice dripping with artificial warmth. “Ashley didn’t mention you’d be here.”
“Bailey,” I reply, flashing a fake smile. “It’s always a pleasure to see my best friend, Rhys, doing charity work for the needy.”
Bailey looks ready to vault over the console and strangle me, but Rhys catches her arm, shooting me a sharp glare.
Play nice, the look says.
I roll my eyes, and the rest of the ride to school passes in blessed, tense silence.
“You really need to stop poking the bear,” Ashley warns as we walk into English. “She’s actually going to fight you one of these days.”
“I’m not afraid of Bailey,” I scoff, pulling out my notebook as we sit down.
“Look, your boyfriend’s here,” Ashley teases, nodding toward the doorway.
Jakob. My absolute arch-nemesis.
Freshman year, I was taking a shower after gym class when Jakob and his sidekick Samuel decided it would be hilarious to steal my clothes and my towel. Driven by pure rage, I chase them down the hall, totally forgetting the small detail that I was in my birthday suit.
Easily the most traumatic day of my life.
“Hello, Chloe,” Jakob purrs, taking the seat directly behind me. “Always a highlight seeing you, though I have to admit, I’m a little disappointed.”
I grit my teeth, turning around. “Why?”
He smirks, leaning back in his chair. “I haven’t seen you naked since freshman year.”
“And you never will again,” I growl.
“Careful, don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“Why do you make it your life’s mission to torment me?” I snap.
“Are you kidding? This class is the highlight of my day,” he says, resting his chin in his hand. “Not only do I get to break your spirit, but I also get a front-row view of Mrs. Peters.”
“You’re a pig,” I scowl.
“Thank you,” he says, placing a hand dramatically over his heart.
“Maybe if you keep acting like a massive dick, yours will actually grow,” I say, letting a sweet smile hit my face. “Kasey Jane gave me the full review of your bedroom performance. Or should I say, lack thereof?”
Ashley chokes back a laugh beside me.
Jakob didn’t even flinch, keeping that insufferable smirk firmly in place. “That’s hilarious. Remind me, who’s Kasey Jane again?”
“You’re pathetic,” I sneer. “How do you manage to make every girl feel completely useless?”
He just shrugs casually. “Why don’t you think about it and get back to me?”
I was about to lay into him, but Mrs. Peters walks into the room and clears her throat. I turn around, fuming.
Round two later, asshole.
Two hours later, I was clutching my temples as the Benson twins went at it.
“Nah-uh!” Bryan shouts, slamming his hand on the table. “The Netherlands is where Peter Pan and Tinkerbell live!”
“No, it’s not, idiot!” Mikey spat back. “It’s the place with the lion and the ice queen!”
“Okay, stop!” I yell, throwing my hands up. “Mikey, the place you’re thinking of is Narnia. Which is fictional. Bryan, the Netherlands is a real country on Earth. Now can we please just read?”
They fell silent, glaring at each other.
“Bryan, you go first,” I instruct.
“Not fair!” Mikey whines. “I’m the oldest!”
“It doesn’t matter who’s oldest,” I sigh. “Bryan, go.”
Bryan huffs, looking down at the page and squinting. “T-the c-cat—” He froze, frowning at the word.
“Chases,” I supplies gently.
He nods, relieved. “C-chases t-the m-mouse.”
“Great job,” I smile. “Mikey, your turn.”
Mikey takes a breath, concentrating hard. “W-Will a-always a-asked f-for h-help.”
I blink in surprise. “Mikey, that was incredible! You didn’t stumble on a single word.”
A sudden flush of red crept up his neck. “I’ve been practicing at home,” he mutters softly.
“Seriously? That’s amazing!”
“I... I want to be a journalist,” he confesses, looking up at me through his messy bangs. “So, thanks. For helping me.”
Bryan chimes in immediately. “I wanna be a cop!”
“Those are both awesome goals,” I say, turning back to Mikey. “What kind of journalist do you want to be?”
“Sports,” he answers, a proud grin finally breaking through.
“You know,” I suggest, “you could pitch a sports section for the school newsletter. It’d look great on college applications down the road.”
His eyes lit up. “Really? That sounds awesome... Would you help me write it?”
“Of course I will.”
“What about me?!” Bryan whines, crossing his arms and pouting.
Mikey snaps back to his usual self, glaring at his brother. “Go hang out with Cindy!”
“Cindy doesn’t help me read!” Bryan growls, slamming his fist on the table.
I rub my eyes, letting out a long sigh. Just when I thought we were making progress, we were right back at square one.
