Chloe snorted. “I think you’ve got your charity hats confused. The bell-ringing is for the Salvation Army.”
“Oh. Well, I’m positive we give to both. And I’m donating my time to a sailing camp for underprivileged kids this summer.”
“Are you?” She looked surprised. “That’s cool.”
“Yeah.” I’d almost forgotten my mother had roped me into doing it. At first I’d complained because it meant getting up at the ass crack of dawn, and it would seriously cut into the time I planned to spend on my own boat this summer, working on my tan and trying to win back Caitlyn Becker. We’d been together all year until I’d fucked it up by messing around with a sophomore right before prom. Caitlyn found out and dumped my ass last week. Maybe I should tell her about the sailing camp, I thought. Chloe was looking at me kind of differently right now, as if she saw me in a new, more favorable light.
The last time we’d hung out, she’d gotten pissed about some comment I made about her stupid boyfriend, Chuck. I wasn’t sorry, though. That guy was a fucking tool. I don’t even recall exactly what I said, maybe something about him being the reason the gene pool needs a lifeguard, but she’d gone off on me, accused me of being a privileged, judgmental, prep school asshole. A sheep in a navy blazer and khaki pants.
Sometimes I worried she was right.
But I still thought I looked good.
She looked good tonight too. Like the rest of the girls, she had on a long strapless dress and wore sparkly things in her ears and around her neck. Her dark hair was done up, which made her look older and more sophisticated. It also meant her tattoo was visible across her upper back—that was something the other girls in the group definitely didn’t have. It was a line from a book or something, but I forgot which one. She said her parents had been so furious with her for getting it without permission, they’d grounded her for a month. Taken away her keys, her phone, her freedom.
She’d also said it had been worth it. I dug that.
The moms were making the girls line up alone for a photo, and I watched them all smile for the camera. Their teeth were all really, really white but their dresses were all different colors. They sort of looked like a row of frozen yogurt flavors at TCBY. Chloe’s would be key lime, I thought, but even I knew that probably wasn’t something I should say out loud.
She was definitely the shortest girl in the group, but in my opinion, she was the hottest—another thing I wouldn’t say out loud. She’d either take it the wrong way and think I liked her liked her, or she’d hit me. We were pretty damn close, but it didn’t always feel like a choice. Even tonight had been set up by our mothers. And if her dark eyes and dimples sometimes drifted into my head while I was jerking off in the shower, it wasn’t on purpose.
“So what happened with Chuck?” I asked her later as we swayed awkwardly on the dance floor, my hands on her hips, hers on my shoulders.
She shrugged. “We broke up.”
“Good.” Then I couldn’t resist taking a jab. “Even you can do better than that douchebag.”
She glared at me. “What happened with Caitlyn?”
“I cheated on her.”
“With who?”
“Some random sophomore.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” I tried to remember why I’d done it. “Caitlyn wasn’t around one night and this girl was cute.”
She shook her head. “You’re a pig.”
“Yeah, it was stupid,” I admitted. “I actually want to get Caitlyn back. At least for the summer. I don’t want to go away to college with a girlfriend.”
“Do you love her?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I love the blowjobs she gives me.”
Chloe thumped me on the chest and made a disgusted sound. “You are the actual worst. What am I even doing here?”
“Getting ungrounded.” Her mother had shortened her punishment for the tattoo by two weeks after she’d agreed to be my date tonight.
“Oh yeah.” She grimaced. “I guess I’ll have to suffer through it.”
But actually, we had a pretty good time. Unlike Caitlyn, Chloe didn’t really care if I made an ass of myself doing the worm across the floor. She could talk to anyone, even the adults, and she laughed at all my jokes. It was comfortable and fun being with her, like old times. And she looked so fucking good in that dress. We’d never fooled around before, but I caught her looking at me once or twice, like she might be open to it. I couldn’t decide how I felt about that.
After the dance was over, we went back to my friend Jeff’s house for a pool party, and all of my buddies were drooling over Chloe’s body in her skimpy white bikini. I stayed silent, although truth be told, I was drooling too. Since when had she gotten those curves? Had they been there inside that key lime dress all night long? I wondered what they’d feel like under my palms.
“Pemberton, you don’t mind if I hit that, do you?” asked Lowell, his eyes on Chloe as she lowered herself into the hot tub with some other girls.
“Yeah, I do,” I said, realizing that I minded way more than I thought I would, and not just because I thought Lowell was a dickhead. “So don’t even fucking think about it.”
The guys all gave me shit about my reaction, and Lowell started getting in my face a little, so I left them and went over to stretch out on a deck chair near the hot tub. I didn’t want to get into a fight with my friends on prom night. And actually, I wanted to hang out with Chloe more than I wanted to be with them.
When she saw me sitting there alone in the dark, she got out, wrapped a towel around herself and dropped onto the chair next to me.
“Hey,” she said over the music. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” She lay back, crossing her bare legs at the ankle. “I don’t believe you.”
“My friends are being assholes.”
“Ah.” She glanced over toward the pool, where Lowell was busy flexing on the diving board. “That guy’s a dipshit for sure.”
“He thinks you’re hot.”
“Ew. Fuck him.”
“He asked me if I’d mind if he hit on you,” I told her, sensing an opportunity to be a bit of a hero. Maybe she’d be grateful enough to put her hand down my pants or something.
“What did you say?”
“I told him to stay away from you.” Tucking my hands behind my head, I felt proud of myself.
Except then she got huffy. “Is that what you’re doing over here by yourself? Guarding me? Because I don’t need you to do that. I can take care of myself.”
“Fine.” So much for a gratitude handjob.
A moment later, she asked, “Just out of curiosity, what would you do? If he didn’t stay away from me, I mean.”
“Like if he tried something with you and you didn’t want him to?”
“Yes.”
“I’d fucking kick his ass.”
“You’d get in a fight with your friend for me?” She sounded surprised.
“No, I’d kick his ass. There wouldn’t be much of a fight.” It wasn’t true—Lowell was a big dude, and I’d likely endure a serious beating if I took a swing at him, but Chloe didn’t need to know that.