Chapter Text
Chloe’s smoking on the back steps of the Two Whales, sweat dripping down the back of her neck because nobody can be bothered to fix the AC. A black trash bag brimming with French toast crusts and coffee grounds stews beside her. Something oozes from a tear in the side of it. It smells sickly sweet and rotten at the same time.
All of that is gross in its own right, but it’s not what has her wanting to crawl out of her skin.
It’s that she’s stuck at her dead-end job, desperately waiting for a call or a text, any scrap of Rachel’s attention, while Rachel spends her Fourth of July right, hanging with the Vortex club and day-drinking by someone’s pool.
If she’s honest with herself—though she tries hard not to be—there’s been a change between them over the past year. A gradual separation. It feels a little bit like the end of the world because all of Chloe’s memories since she was fourteen have a streak of blonde hair running through them, the smell of jasmine and coconut sunscreen, short nails digging into her arm, hazel eyes that practically glow green when they cry. Now they see each other maybe once a week if Chloe’s lucky.
It’s Max all over again, only worse because at least Max left fast and stayed gone. Rachel won’t even grant her that. She’s going to be here at least another year for the extended senior program which means she’ll be at every party, dropping by the diner, sunbathing down on the beach. If you’re going to abandon someone, you owe it to them to at least do it right and fully disappear.
Chloe stubs out her cigarette and heaves the trash bag over her shoulder. The pulpy-rotten smell assaults her but she manages to cross the parking lot. Her phone chirps as she flings the trash bag into the dumpster. She knows it’s Rachel before she even checks since nobody else ever texts her except Steph and Mikey on rare occasions, and maybe Frank when she owes him.
Chlooooooe! Come to Matt’s house tonight. Pregaming for fireworks.
Chloe groans. At least it’s an invitation, but for fuck’s sake. Matt’s house sucks. He’s one of the rare broke-ass Vortex kids, only accepted because his place is already a wreck so it doesn’t matter if it gets trashed. Chloe’s confident that she will get bedbugs from his couch one day.
Briefly, she fantasizes about saying no or just ignoring the message altogether. Maybe it would get Rachel’s attention. Of course, it’s equally likely that Rachel would shrug and continue with her night, not even noticing Chloe’s absence.
Okay.
Chloe hits send and drops her phone back into her pocket.
“What’s taking so long?” Joyce is standing on the steps, kitchen noises spilling out from behind her. She looks tired and older in a way that Chloe can’t seem to get used to. They’ve both been working too much lately.
“Sorry.” Chloe crosses the lot and stops in front of Joyce. A cool breeze slips out of the doorway. “Holy shit, they fixed the AC?”
“Language,” Joyce warns. “Yeah, Rodney came out. Something about a coil. You doin’ okay?”
“Mhmm.”
“Liar,” Joyce smiles. “You know Paulina wanted to pick up a few extra shifts because her son needs some expensive orthodontics. If you want to get out of here early—”
“Wait, really?” The prospect of a shower perks her up.
“They’re gonna close off Main Street soon for the parade anyway. You don’t want to get caught up in traffic on that detour. It takes you halfway to the damn mountains.”
“Thanks,” Chloe says.
“Just promise me you won’t get into any trouble tonight.”
Chloe mumbles something non-committal and tosses her apron into the bin by the door.
***
After showering, Chloe lounges on her bed, half-dressed with her hand down the front of her pants. Her fingers make lazy circles as she thinks of her last kiss—a messy one, Rachel’s drunk laughter bubbling into the space around them ruining the mood, her teeth coming down hard on Chloe’s lip, tongue tasting like peach brandy and cigarettes.
That’s the complicated thing about their friendship. They laugh and fight and protect each other--everything she’s learned to expect from friendship thanks to Max--but also Rachel’s mouth has a way of finding hers sometimes. It’s not a big deal, just one of those things that happens when they both drink too much and it’s the right time of night and they’ve been dancing a little too close…
Sweat runs down the back of her neck, gathers in her elbows and behind her knees. The pull chain on her ceiling fan rattles along with the shushing of air. A sigh of a whimper escapes her lips and she swallows hard. Her thoughts are wandering from memory to fantasy.
Maybe tonight Rachel will wrap around her in a secluded corner of Matt’s house, mouth open and hair wild...
The X-Files theme blares from her phone, the desk making a horrible groaning sound as it vibrates along to the ringtone. Chloe sits up, heart galloping, and reaches for it. The picture on the caller ID is a photo booth strip, Rachel kissing her cheek.
“What?” The adrenalin still circulating through her makes her voice sharp.
“Are you all hot and bothered?” Rachel asks in a breathy old-Hollywood-starlet voice.
“What?” Chloe whips her head around, craning her neck to check the window in case Rachel’s crouching outside. “Why?”
Rachel laughs. “Because it’s about ninety degrees and you don’t have air conditioning.”
“Oh,” Chloe says. “Right.”
“Oh no, were you—” Rachel lowers her voice, on the edge of laughing again “—busy?”
“No! I was… sleeping.” Chloe rubs her eyes but the theatrics are wasted on her empty room. “What do you want? The party isn’t for another two hours.”
“So cranky. You really must have been asleep. Nate invited a bunch of us to his parent’s cabin and I put you on my rider.”
“Your what?” Chloe asks.
“My rider. You know, like what celebrities request in their contract? A bowl of M&Ms without the brown candies, Cristal-filled bathtubs, the blood of a virgin—”
Chloe pulls on a tank top, still feeling slightly self-conscious about the open window. “Uh-huh. But what does that mean?”
“It means you’re invited, duh!”
A break from work and Arcadia Bay and—as guilty as Chloe feels even thinking it—Mom sounds amazing. But spending that time with Rachel’s snobby friends in the middle of the woods?
“Yeah, thanks for the invite but I’m not sure I feel like spending time with that crowd. Since they, you know, hate my guts…”
“They don’t hate you. They just don’t know you. Well… Victoria might hate you. But she’s a bitch so who cares. Hey? Do you hear that?”
There’s a soft whoosh and a pebble skitters across the floor.
“What the fuck?” Another pebble flies in the window and pings off Chloe’s desk lamp. She walks over to the window and finds Rachel standing in the yard, winding up for another throw. “Rachel!”
Either because she doesn’t see her in time or doesn’t care, Rachel tosses another pebble and it hits Chloe square in the chest.
“Watch it!”
“Whoops!” Swaying in place slightly, Rachel lifts her arms to the window in a Romeo-esque pose and Chloe knows she’s already drunk. Pregaming the pregame never used to be Rachel’s thing. Chloe wonders if she should worry. Not that she has a right to, waiting tables high as fuck every day. “Consider it a warning of what’s to come if you don’t go on this trip with me.”
Chloe hangs up on her and climbs out onto the roof. It’s fucking tropical out. There’s no wind and even the insects sound muffled like the air is too thick to let the sound through. The late afternoon sun makes everything look like it’s trapped in amber.
“Do you want to come up?” It feels futile, even as she says it, she knows Rachel’s answer. Still, she can’t help but throw in a bribe. “Joyce bought moose tracks.”
“Extreme?”
“Of course.”
“Shit, I wish I could. I’ve got to head home. My dad won’t let me go out unless I attend family dinner.” Rachel mimes hanging herself. “But I’ll see you at Matt’s?”
“Maybe.”
“Hard to get, huh? Your pants are undone by the way.”
Chloe looks down and sure enough, her fly is unbuttoned and hanging open, the top third of her underwear on display. She hastily zips them up and is about to come up with an excuse but by the time she looks back, Rachel’s already disappearing down the street.
***
The parade is nearly over by the time Chloe reaches Main Street. Barricades are still blocking the way so she leaves the truck behind the diner and walks to Matt’s. All around her is a swirl of color and noise and activity. A well-restored classic car with a banner proclaiming “Happy Fourth from Bob’s Antiques!” is crawling down the road, flanked by crowds on either side. A man—possibly Bob himself—throws candy out the passenger side window. Children descend like pigeons.
Everyone is slowly making their way to the pier where the fire department holds the fireworks show. When Chloe was eight, they made a mistake with the timing of the finale and the entire show lasted only ten violently bright and loud minutes, instead of the usual forty-five. She’s been riding that high ever since.
The noise dies down as Chloe turns onto 5th Street. People settle into lawn chairs or on their porches, eyes aimed west to catch the show. Three kids sit lined up on a beach towel on one of the flat porch roofs, a bag of microwave popcorn between them. Chloe thinks of Max and nostalgia swirls up around her, sickly sweet. She always hated fireworks but insisted on coming every year anyway. She would bury her head in Chloe’s shoulder and squeeze her hands over her ears until Chloe gave her the signal that it was over.
Idly Chloe wonders if Max still hates loud noises and cries through thunderstorms and winces when kids set off bottle rockets. Maybe that could have been the three of them—Chloe, Max, and Rachel—if only Max had stayed. It’s a stupid thought. If Max never left Chloe would have clung to her so tightly, that she wouldn’t have even gone to the mill that night. Rachel would just be a pretty face in the hallway that Chloe pretended not to see.
The street lights are just flickering on as Chloe arrives at Matt’s. People are spilling out of the house, overflowing the porch, and puddling from the front yard into the street. The living room window offers a preview of how packed it is in there, people pressed together, music blaring. The smell of weed wafts from the carport’s windows. Luckily nobody in this neighborhood gives a fuck.
Matt’s living room is the filthiest place on earth. The carpet is grey with cigarette ash and shoe-prints. The wood paneling is peeling away from the walls. Moth-eaten plaid couches are occupied by couples making out. Someone is puking in the bathroom, the door wedged open by some meathead telling them to go puke outside.
Dana, of all people, is the first to greet her. “Hey, you!” she says to Chloe like she’s actually happy to see her. Everyone is Dana’s friend when she’s drunk. She hugs Chloe tight, all eye glitter and fruit-scented body lotion. “I’m so glad you came!”
“Thanks,” Chloe says, conscious of the lipstick now streaked across the strap of her tank top. “Have you seen Rachel?”
“Yeah,” Dana says, a hint of a bitter edge to her voice. “Follow me.”
Dana leads her out the side door and into the carport. Smoke swirls lazily around the ceiling fan which is doing nothing for the heat. It smells like weed and sweat. A guy plucks mindlessly at a guitar in the corner. Chloe realizes he’s playing Wagon Wheel and sighs. That fucking song is everywhere this summer.
“There you are!” Rachel flings herself out of one of the metal patio chairs and into Chloe’s arms. Sun-streaked hair pushes up against Chloe’s nose and she can’t help but inhale the scent. The bridge of Rachel’s nose is pink from an afternoon by the pool and Chloe has to fight off a reckless desire to put her lips on it. “You need to try this shit Justin brought back from Colorado.”
“Yeah, sure. Offer my weed to everyone,” Justin says, too mellowed out to pull off the sarcasm. His blond hair is stringy under his trucker hat and his eyes are bloodshot beyond their usual shade of red. The bong in front of him—nicknamed The Mothership, by Trevor—still has the green alien sticker Chloe added months ago. That little guy has seen way too much of Chloe’s face over the past few weeks. “Hey, you came!” Though their friendship survives mostly on a mutual love of marijuana and gas station slushies, he seems genuinely happy to see her.
“I did.” She settles into the chair next to him and he slides the bong her way.
She takes a bigger hit than she means to but she manages and holds it a moment before coughing through her exhale. The cloud rolls across the table and then rises to join the rest of the smoke lingering in the air.
“Look what I found!” The screen door smacks the frame and Trevor walks in holding one of the star-spangled headbands they’ve been selling at the Arcadia Bay Fourth of July parade for as long as Chloe remembers. He pops it on Rachel’s head and the stars bob around on their springs, flashing red and blue.
“Oh, hell yeah!” Rachel laughs and tilts her head around, making the stars bounce. “Thanks, Trev!”
Dana stands up abruptly and claps her hands together. “Hey, who wants to play Kings?”
There’s a rumble of interest from a few of the other stoners around the table but most of them get up and leave. Chloe doesn’t blame them, drinking games bring out the assholes. As if on cue, Zach and Logan appear in the doorway.
“Let’s go!” Zach bellows, summoning Hayden. “Yo, grab that six-pack.”
Chloe stands up to leave but Rachel forces her down. She sits in Chloe’s lap and leans into her ear. “Stay. You’re going to be stuck with them at the cabin anyway. It’s a good chance to get to know them.”
As much as she wants to argue, it’s hard to focus on anything other than Rachel’s ass in her lap.
“If you’re playing, I will too!” Justin says to Chloe. It’s unexpected since he’s one of the few people who hate Vortex kids as much as Chloe does. “But don’t mention The Mothership.” He takes the bong and shoves it into his backpack then covers that with his sweatshirt.
Logan grabs a can of PBR and places it in the center of the table, then spreads a deck of cards around it. The screen door creaks and in walks Nathan Prescott. His hair is ruffled and his eyes are unfocused like he’s already been drinking.
“Nate Dog! Get in here!” Logan says, pounding Nathan on the back. He winces as Logan manhandles him and then sits down in the chair next to Dana without saying anything. “Whoever is the least sober has to start.”
Everyone looks at Justin, half-asleep in his chair and reeking of weed.
He sighs and pulls the first card.
“Six of hearts.” Justin sticks the card under the tab of the beer in the middle of the cards.
“Six is chicks!” Zach says, putting a beer in Dana’s hand and passing one to Chloe.
Rachel pops the tab for her and puts it in her pocket. “I’ll keep track for you, Chlo.”
Chloe almost protests--after all, Rachel’s the one who drinks too much at these things—but it feels good having Rachel want to take care of her. They drink and then it’s Rachel’s turn to pull a card.
“Ooh! King of spades. I’m going with my usual rule. Anyone who touches their phone has to let me text someone from it.”
There’s a groan from around the table.
“Not my dad though,” mumbles Nathan.
Chloe doesn’t want to feel bad for a Prescott—she doesn’t know if she’s even capable of feeling bad for him—but he does look pathetic with his eyes bloodshot and his rich boy clothes stained and stinking of smoke and spilled beer.
“Nah dude, nobody will text your dad.” Zach puts an awkward hand on Nathan’s shoulder.
Rachel shoves her card under the tab and pulls Chloe’s card for her. When Chloe reaches for it, Rachel smacks her hand away and then flips it, holding it up so they can both see. Chloe bounces her leg so Rachel lurches forward and has to grab the back of her neck to keep upright. They laugh until Logan tells them to read the damn card already.
“Two. You,” Chloe says pointing to Trevor mostly because she doesn’t like the way he’s looking at Rachel right now. “Drink up.”
He shrugs and takes a swig.
Logan pulls an ace and they have to waterfall. Since he’s on Chloe’s left, she has to finish her can and grab another, just like he does. She puts the tab in Rachel’s pocket with the last one.
They make it around the circle twice before the tab finally pops and Hayden has to chug the beer. During that time Rachel sends a text from Dana’s phone (to Zach, who also has to hand his phone over to Rachel immediately when he checks the notification), Logan hits his head on the table trying to touch the floor when someone pulls a four, Chloe fails at Categories twice, Zach pulls a king and makes them all play Get Down Mr. President causing Logan hit his head a second time and finally retire from the game, and Nathan begins crying for no discernable reason.
By the time the first fireworks are blossoming over the roofline, they’re all properly drunk.
“Aw, we never made it to the beach,” Dana says. Nathan’s head is on her shoulder and he hiccups quietly as she pets his hair. “I didn’t want to miss the fireworks this year.”
“Are you mad at me?” Nathan asks her, slurring voice muffled by her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“Let’s go now!” Rachel springs off Chloe’s lap nearly poking her eye out with the stars on her headband. “We can still make it in time for the finale at least. C’mon.” She hoists Nathan up by the armpits and he glares at her through puffy eyes. Dana and Zach help her straighten him out. “You’ll feel better with some fresh air.”
“We won’t make it down there in time,” Hayden says, but he follows her to the door anyway.
“Fuck it.” Chloe stands up and all the beers and the bong hit from earlier hit her at once and she has to drive her palm into her forehead while the buzzing in her ears dies down. “You coming?”
Trevor and Justin are sunk back in their chairs, both of them heavy-lidded and communicating mostly through grunts. “Nah,” Justin says at last. Then he does something he’s never done before and takes Chloe’s hand in his. “Send me pictures though.”
Chloe yanks her hand away and laughs too loudly, startling Trevor who jolts upright before relaxing back again. “Yeah, I’m not doing that. See ya.”
It’s blue-dark out now and the others are only a block ahead of her, walking slowly and drunkenly toward the bursting colors on the horizon. Dana and Rachel are arm-in-arm and look like they might stumble over the curb. Chloe jogs to catch up. The heat coming off the asphalt distorts the road ahead, making the bay look like a distant mirage.
“Do you think he’s cute?” Dana is asking as Chloe slows to a walk next to Rachel.
“What like, in general, or for you?” Rachel grabs Chloe’s hand as soon as she notices her. The feeling of it warms Chloe more than the humid air ever could.
“Rachel, those aren’t two separate categories. Is he ugly or not?”
“If you think he’s cute then he’s cute, but not my type.”
“Oh, yeah totally agree.” Dana visibly relaxes.
“What are you talking about?” Chloe asks, her voice almost drowned out by a sudden flurry of fireworks, road-flare red followed by fizzling gold blooms.
“Dana’s boy crazy. For Trevor no less,” Rachel says, laughing when Dana pinches her arm.
“I’m not!”
From the sparse crowd ahead, comes the sound of men arguing. Two guys Chloe dimly recognizes from Blackwell are shouting and shoving at each other as the crowd parts around them. Hayden, Zach, and Logan deposit Nathan onto the curb and go to break it up with the usual chorus of “dude, calm down” and “bro, just cool it.”
“Let’s go, someone’s going to call the cops if they don’t stop.” Rachel’s grip on her hand tightens and then they’re running.
Their shoes hit the asphalt faster and faster. Dana falls behind for a moment and is lost to the crowd, but then she pops up ahead of them somehow. As they turn right onto Main Street again and the bay is suddenly ahead of them, huge and rippling with reflected color, Rachel trips over her shoelaces and crashes into Chloe. They tumble hard into the grass.
Chloe hits the ground, elbow digging into the dirt like a plow, and Rachel follows, landing sprawled over Chloe’s back, a hand cradling the back of Chloe’s head protectively. They stay like that for a moment--Chloe trying to catch her breath, Rachel shaking with laughter—until Dana comes to help them.
They walk the rest of the way, ignoring the looks their dirt-streaked clothes are attracting.
The three of them cut through the crowd and take a path only locals are familiar with, through a stand of pines that stretches from the street to the sand. The trees plunge them into darkness and muffle the sounds of the parade as they walk toward the distant light of the beach. Dana charges ahead, jogging through the tunnel of trees and breaking onto the beach without waiting for them. Alone in the dark, Rachel’s hand finds Chloe’s waist. She squeezes her lightly and then drags a finger across her stomach.
It's a cheesy, teen-boy move, but Chloe’s stomach flutters pleasantly anyway.
“I’ve missed you lately.” The words are soft in Chloe’s ear, said with such sweetness, and still her jaw clenches. “I know it’s not your scene, but I’m glad you’re coming this weekend.”
“Funny, I don’t remember saying I was going,” Chloe says. The words are harsh and ugly and not playful the way she meant them to sound. So much anger is still writhing around in her despite the way she’s leaning into Rachel’s touch, wordlessly begging for more.
“Please?” Rachel stops walking and cups Chloe’s face with both hands. “I want us to spend time together.”
It’s fucked up, the games Rachel plays. Maybe it’s more fucked up how easily she falls back into playing along. When Rachel’s this close, touching her like nobody else ever has, like she matters, like she’s delicate and valuable instead of the human dumpster fire everyone knows she is, it’s hard to remember why she’s mad. When Rachel touches her like this it doesn’t matter if Rachel’s using her or she’s using Rachel or if they’re both just confused and desperate in different ways. All that matters is it feels good and she never wants it to stop.
“Okay,” Chloe breathes. “I’ll text my mom and let her know I’m going.”
Rachel lets go of her and cheers. “You really are Priceless, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told.”
When they step out onto the beach, the sky explodes into a million colors, the finale everyone’s been waiting for. The people on the pier clap and cheer. Chloe misses it all watching Rachel’s face, the awe at the first few bursts of red, how her entire face lights up when she smiles, her mild disappointment as the sky goes dark. This is what summer is meant to be.
***
It’s nearly midnight when Chloe decides they need to leave the beach. The bonfire is dimming down to embers but the people around it only get louder, rowdier. It’s been a long day and Chloe can’t think of anything she wants more than her bed.
Chloe used to write reminders on her hands. Homework assignments, chores, things to pick up at the store, songs or band names she wanted to look up later. She stopped when she began working at the diner because the ink rubs off when she does the dishes and she’s on autopilot most of the time anyway. It’s been months since she last wrote anything but suddenly Chloe can feel words scratching into her palm. Find Rachel, get the truck, go home. Find Rachel, get the truck, go home. Find Rachel, get the—
“Have you seen a blonde girl, about this tall?” Chloe asks a guy adjusting the volume on a Bluetooth speaker.
“Maybe?” His eyes are glassy and he sounds like he’s had a few too many. “Does this mystery girl have any defining features?”
“She’s really hot,” Chloe says. “You’d remember her if you saw her.”
“Too bad. If you find her send her this way.” He holds out his fist and Chloe reluctantly gives him knucks before walking away.
People are dancing closer to the water and Chloe does a loop around them twice before Rachel spots a golden head bobbing around near the center of the crowd. It’s Rachel, arms slung around the waist of a guy who looks close to thirty. They’re swaying along to the bassy music, his hands sliding over her hips and waist.
Chloe walks up and touches Rachel’s wrist.
“Hey!” Rachel laughs. “Come dance.”
The man looks Chloe up and down and then smirks. Chloe knows what he’s thinking because it’s what every guy thinks when they see Rachel with her. Threesome with the bi chick and her dyke friend. If Rachel thinks she’s going anywhere near this dweeb, she has another thing coming.
“Find me when you’re done with him,” Chloe says in the most disgusted voice she can manage. For a second, she thinks Rachel is going to argue with her or tell her off for being rude. But she just shrugs and goes back to the man’s arms.
It’s not worth getting upset over—Rachel’s just drunk and bored and this is her way of letting off steam—but Chloe’s chest starts aching anyway. She walks out past where the firelight’s reach, almost to the tree line. The sand is still warm with the memory of sunlight even though it’s been dark for hours. It heats her legs through her jeans making them feel damp and uncomfortable.
“Can I join you?” Dana emerges from the trees behind Chloe, making her jump.
“Jesus, you scared me,” Chloe says. “What were you doing back there?”
“Peeing.” Dana drops down next to her. “What are you doing?”
Chloe shrugs. “I need to go home while I can still drive.”
“I hate to break it to you but you’re already too fucked up to drive.”
Chloe scoffs. “I’m fine.”
“Your voice is saying one thing but your eyes are saying another.” Dana rolls her eyes around and crosses them for emphasis. Chloe turns away to hide her smile. “Promise me you won’t drive home?”
“I promise.”
They sit there for a few minutes watching the beach. The tide is on its way out, shrinking back with every wave. The moon is small and distant in the middle of the sky. Gnats nip at Chloe’s ankles. The night seems to stretch on, hot and miserable and endless.
“Rachel’s dancing with some asshole.” Chloe isn’t sure why she says it. Dana’s Rachel’s friend, not hers. She doesn’t have any reason to care or to know why Chloe cares so much.
She isn’t expecting it when Dana wrinkles her nose and says, “that’s fucked up. She must know how you feel.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.” Dana sighs and scoots closer. “I love Rach, but she has major daddy issues. She doesn’t even want that guy. She just wants to feel wanted.”
Chloe snorts. “Yeah, it must be so hard for Rachel fucking Amber to feel wanted.”
Dana laughs and there’s that bitterness, the teen-girl cruelty that Chloe managed to mostly avoid by dropping out. She doesn’t hold it against Dana. It isn’t easy being friends with a girl like Rachel and maybe it’s worse for Dana. Dana who’s beautiful but not in the way Rachel is, who’s bubbly and kind but not mysterious or cool, who’s always staring at Trevor as he fawns over Rachel. Chloe feels a surge of sympathy for her.
Dana sits up on her knees so she’s facing Chloe. Her eyes are moving over Chloe’s face with something like desire, but not quite. “If anyone looked at me the way you look at her, I’d never even think of anyone else."
“It’s not like that,” Chloe says. Her heart kicks up as Dana’s hand comes to rest on her hip, fingering the edge of her shirt. “We’re just friends. She’s free to do what she wants.”
“What do you want Chloe?”
Blue eyes fill her vision and then Dana kisses her and they fall back into the sand. Her hand comes up under Chloe’s shirt, moving cautiously. It’s not that she isn’t attracted to Dana or that she feels guilty about Rachel—who is no doubt out in the crowd still grinding into the buff tourist to the beat of a Calvin Harris song. In fact the kiss is pleasant, the way drinking warm coffee or falling asleep in a sunbeam is pleasant. But there’s no passion, no river of buried emotion rushing under the surface, no response from her body that’s so difficult to ignore it’s almost painful. Distantly Chloe realizes she’s probably fucked up for wanting those things or feeling their absence so keenly.
This kiss isn’t bad, it’s just not what she wants.
Chloe humors her for a few minutes longer, pretending to enjoy the tentative groping and kittenish sounds Dana’s making, then pulls away.
“Thanks, Dana,” she says awkwardly. “I, uh, I need to get home. My mom—”
“What about Rachel?” Dana gestures over to the crowd. “She’ll be looking for you.”
“She won’t.” Chloe dusts the sand off her jeans and takes another look around. If Rachel stays, she’ll be dancing with strangers. If she leaves, she won’t be alone. Either way, Chloe doesn’t want to know.
***
For the first time in a long time, Chloe’s home by midnight. The feat is even more impressive considering she walked home. Tomorrow morning she’ll have to trudge back through town to pick up the truck but at least she didn’t end up wrapping it around a tree tonight. The house is dark since neither she nor her mother remembered to leave the hall light on. Joyce won’t be home until later. She likes working the late shift on holidays. She claims it’s because she gets to hear all the gossip from the drunks that stumble in, but Chloe knows it’s because every holiday just reminds her of William and how empty their lives are without him.
Chloe opens the kitchen window to get some air circulating and then searches the fridge. On the door, tucked behind a jar of neglected olives, there’s an almost full pack of Newports. Joyce’s stash is always somewhere new and completely obvious. Chloe steals one, lights it with a safety match from the junk drawer, and smokes over the sink. The ash fizzles in the drain.
On nights like these, when Joyce is working late or on an ill-fated date and the house feels cavernous, Chloe likes to imagine what she’d be doing if her dad was still alive. Tonight, they would be curled up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn between them watching the NYC fireworks on television. He would ask her why she’s home so early and she’d explain about Rachel, about how lost and confused she feels when they’re together and how alone she feels when they’re apart. He would give her some golden piece of advice that she would neglect to take and tell her a story about something that happened to him in college. Joyce would come home with leftover pie; key lime, his favorite. Then Chloe would go to bed and fall asleep with the kind of peace you can only feel if you know that the people you love will be alive and waiting for you when you wake up.
She puts out the cigarette and runs the butt under cold water before tossing it in the trash, then goes up to her room. It’s exactly as hot as it was this morning when she woke up. The ceiling fan is still going full tilt and all the windows are open but it makes no difference. Hot air getting pushed around is still hot air. She keeps the lights off as she undresses.
Just as she’s getting into bed, there’s a creak outside on the roof.
“Hello?”
Illuminated by the moonlight, a figure on her roof crouches low and ducks in through the window. The figure’s star headband flashes red and blue around the edges. Chloe pulls her jeans back on quickly but her shirt is lost to the shadows around her closet. She crosses her arms over her chest.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
Rachel crawls over the desk and drops to the floor gracelessly. “You invited me.” Even in the low light, Chloe can see that Rachel’s a mess, breathing hard like she just walked here from the beach, which she must have.
“You invited yourself, actually.” Chloe gets up to find a shirt in her dresser. “I figured you were going home with that guy—"
Something hits Chloe in the center of her back and she goes down hard, her knee catching the bedframe on the way. She turns over onto her back and Rachel comes at her again, pinning her down to the bed. Chloe grimaces as Rachel grabs a fistful of her hair and holds her head so she can’t throw her off. Automatically Chloe grabs Rachel’s wrist in one hand and a chunk of blonde hair in the other. It doesn’t hurt but it does stop either of them from moving.
“What the fuck, Rachel?”
Rachel hovers inches away from Chloe’s bare skin and if she wasn’t in such a rage, this would be very similar to some of Chloe’s filthier fantasies, a fact her body is intent on giving away. Her nipples are hard and her cunt has its own heartbeat, throbbing as Rachel’s hand tightens in her hair.
“You hooked up with my best friend.” Rachel’s voice trembles and Chloe tries to sit up. A hand forces her head back down, nails digging into her scalp. “Victoria saw you guys.”
“Dana’s not your best friend,” Chloe says, stroking Rachel’s wrist with her thumb. The fingers in her hair loosen slightly and Chloe immediately, idiotically, misses the pressure. “And I wouldn’t call what we did hooking up.”
“She’s the only one of them that I like.”
“You like Juliet.”
The hand that isn’t in Chloe’s hair finds its way to her solar plexus and Rachel pushes her further back into the bed. Chloe wriggles experimentally and Rachel’s thighs tighten around her hips.
“I didn’t know she was off-limits.” Chloe tries again to push her off but Rachel holds tight. Their mouths are so close they’re practically sharing breaths. Chloe thinks she might spontaneously combust if Rachel doesn’t let up soon. “I didn’t think you’d care.”
“Well, it turns out, I do.” Rachel lets go of Chloe’s hair but stays on top of her, hand lingering on her chest. Those hazel eyes are running over her exposed breasts now, not bothering with subtlety. Chloe glows with the attention, staying very still and letting Rachel’s eyes roam, hoping her hands follow suit. “What exactly did you guys do?”
It’s not a question, it’s a command for Chloe to give her the information like it’s something she’s owed. If anyone else ever used that tone with Chloe, she’d spit in their face.
“We just kissed… it was nothing.”
Rachel nods and the stars on the headband bounce around, throwing light around, making Chloe dizzy.
Outside there’s a series of pops and color sprays across the sky. The neighbors must still be partying. Rachel watches the sky for a moment, lighting up blue, red, gold, then green. She sighs and rolls off of Chloe.
“Chlo, what’s wrong with me?”
Chloe props herself up on her elbow, her body already protesting Rachel’s absence.
“You’re just drunk, Rach.” Chloe strokes Rachel’s hair and then runs her thumb under her eyes, catching the tears as they spill. “You should sleep here. We can go grab your stuff before we take off for the cabin tomorrow.”
Rachel moves suddenly and Chloe prepares to be pushed out of the way, for Rachel’s fingers to lock in her hair again. Instead, Rachel kisses her—not like Dana, not like she’s testing the waters, but like she wants to drown. Chloe parts her lips and Rachel’s tongue chases hers, licking into her mouth with unexpected fervor.
“Shit.” Rachel pulls away abruptly and Chloe can feel the heat coming off her. “This is a bad idea, right?”
Chloe doesn’t answer. The fireworks outside are drowned out by the blood rushing through Chloe’s ears. A year’s worth of anger and hurt are rushing to the surface along with four years of longing. Fuck their friendship. Fuck everything. She wants Rachel to use her, to take whatever she wants from her. And if she leaves after then so what? Everyone leaves. Why would she be any different?
Their lips meet again but Rachel pulls away quickly, distracted.
“These turned out nice.” Rachel reaches out and brushes one of Chloe’s pierced nipples with the pad of her thumb. A full-body shiver runs through her. “I was so jealous that you got them done without me. Want to see mine?”
Chloe nods, not trusting herself to come up with words.
Rachel pulls her shirt over her head. The blinking star headband gets swept off and falls to the floor next to the bed. Chloe’s mind goes blank. It’s like she’s fourteen again, hormonal and sweaty-palmed, which is ridiculous because she’s seen Rachel in her underwear a hundred times. The bra comes off next and Chloe breathes out a humorless laugh. Only Rachel’s left is pierced, little gold wings on either side of her nipple.
“It hurt so bad; I couldn’t go through with the other side,” Rachel says without shame. “Dana and V canceled their appointments after they watched me get mine.”
“They’re pussies,” Chloe says, and it feels good to see Rachel smile at that, even if she’s a little jealous that Rachel never told her about the piercing till now. “It’s cute.”
Rachel opens her mouth and Chloe thinks she’s about to say something else but suddenly they’re kissing again, skin on skin. Every brush of Rachel’s fingers on her throat or in her hair has her gripping the bedsheets as if her life depends on it.
“Where did she touch you?” Rachel asks, breaking away, the same demanding voice as before.
“Who?” Chloe’s brain is slow, overwhelmed by desire. It takes her a few seconds to remember Dana. “I don’t know, my stomach, I guess. Maybe my chest.”
Rachel’s hands move over her hungrily. They jump from her hair to her neck to her breasts to her hips, not exploring but claiming. The electricity between them solidifies, becoming almost more than Chloe can bear. Her breath comes in short huffs. She’s simultaneously overstimulated and in dire need of Rachel’s touch.
“Dana’s a good time but she doesn’t know how to treat a lady.” Rachel’s voice is low and dangerous. Her lithe fingers end up on Chloe’s stomach and begin to travel lower. Chloe’s own hands are caressing the length of Rachel’s torso, afraid to stray, not wanting to scare her or push too far. “She left you all wound up.”
Rachel’s hand slips under the waist of Chloe’s pants and Chloe whines, reduced to a desperate, helpless animal. Her hips buck up, nudging Rachel’s hand closer to where she needs it.
Downstairs, the storm door creaks open.
“Shit!” Rachel hisses, jolting away.
They pull their shirts on, Chloe’s hands shaking so bad she gets stuck for a moment. Keys jingle in the locks and Joyce is yelling her name up the stairs.
“Home already?”
“Yeah,” Chloe yells back.
Don’t come up here, for fuck’s sake—
The bottom step creaks and Rachel runs over to the outlet and plugs in the Christmas lights then turns on Chloe’s computer. Chloe grabs the June issue of Skate Jawn from under her bed and thumbs through it. Joyce knocks just as Rachel pulls up a random actor’s IMDB page.
“Uh, come in?” Chloe throws one last panicked glance at Rachel. She gestures for Chloe to look at the magazine.
Joyce walks in, flipping the light switch as she does. Rachel’s bra is on the floor next to Chloe’s foot. She casually nudges it under the bed as her mom sits down next to her.
“What’s wrong with you girls, are you sick?” Joyce pulls Chloe towards her and presses her cheek to her forehead. It’s a not-so-subtle attempt to sniff out whether they’re drunk. She must be too tired to notice that the truck is missing or else she’d already be on the warpath. Chloe inhales carefully through her nose because her mouth still tastes like beer. The fabric of her mom’s uniform permanently smells like bacon and cigarettes. “You haven’t gotten in this early on the Fourth in years.”
Rachel sighs and puts on a very convincing bored-teen face. “Mama J, there’s nothing to do in this town. We tried going to a party and it sucked so we bailed.”
Behind her mom’s back, Chloe gives Rachel a warning look. Joyce loves when Rachel gives her these little windows into their lives. It’s not that Chloe tries to keep things from her, but she doesn’t exactly confide in her either. Rachel on the other hand knows just how to work her, giving her bits and pieces of the truth, casually skating over anything illegal or unsavory.
“Was it the party at that Chaney kid’s house?” Joyce asks. Chloe gives Rachel another warning look and mouths no. It’s not that Matt’s a bad guy or anything, but his family has one of the worst reputations in Arcadia Bay and despite her cool-mom routine, Joyce would tan both their hides if she knew they were there. “Officer Milne was sitting at the counter when a call came in for a fight up that way.”
“Nah, we were up off 8th Street.” Rachel leans in and Joyce mirrors her, under her spell. “Matt’s street is infested with vacation rentals. You know how tourists are, they call the cops for everything. We avoided it in case trouble was brewing.”
“Good girls,” Joyce says with a fatigued smile. Rachel sits back triumphantly and raises an eyebrow at Chloe. Cocky. “Rachel honey are you sleeping over?”
Rachel stands up and stretches elaborately. “Nah, I’m going to head home. We have a long drive tomorrow so…” she trails off as she heads for the door.
“I can walk you out,” Chloe says already knowing Rachel will refuse.
“I think I know my way around by now,” she says, barely looking in Chloe’s direction. “See you tomorrow, Chlo.”
Then she leaves.