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She’d ask about my summer reading. She taught me how to parallel park in our cul-de-sac. Once, she even defended me at dinner when my sister made fun of my “weird” taste in music. “Let him like what he likes,” Chloe said, winking. I nearly choked on a breadstick.

And yeah. You also learn to make a mean cup of coffee. mysitershotfriend

Looking back, it wasn’t about Chloe being “hot.” It was about her treating me like a person, not just a kid. She showed up, she was kind, and she confused every teenage hormone I had into something almost tender. She’d ask about my summer reading

I nodded, throat tight.

By August, she moved into an apartment near campus. My sister helped her pack. I carried one box—the one labeled “winter clothes”—just to have an excuse to be near her one last time. “Let him like what he likes,” Chloe said, winking

Her name was Chloe. She was my older sister’s college roommate, and when their sublet fell through in June, my mom—bless her oblivious heart—said, “Of course she can stay in the guest room.” What my mom didn’t realize was that Chloe wasn’t just my sister’s friend . She was, in the most devastating, inconvenient way possible, *my sister’s hot friend.