Josh's POV
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't staring at her.
Hell, all the guys are. Even some girls, probably jealous or something. But when I notice the attention that she's getting, I get a strange feeling in my chest. For some strange reason, I don't want people checking her out.
Chloe Lukasiak has completely transformed herself within the past couple weeks. High necklines traded for short shorts and itty-bitty tops. Sure, she looks fabulous. But a month ago she would've judged anyone dressed that way.
Nevertheless, I can't help but buy into it. As she and Kalani talk in front of their lockers, it's as if the bombshell brunette doesn't even exist. But I force myself to snap out of it, because this isn't right. This isn't really her.
I take a deep breath and start walking towards the two of them, wanting to ask her what's going on, but as soon as I'm within hearing distance, I overhear something that causes me to stop in my tracks.
Boys. Whistling at her. Calling her a slut. Girls laughing and doing the same. I see her whip her head around to find the source, a look of shock on her face.
I see her flush bright red, and I see Kalani laugh and congratulate Chloe.
"You're a grade A hottie," she's saying. Chloe isn't amused.
Neither am I.
But what I see next makes my pulse rise. It makes my face want to burn red and steam come out of my nose like a cartoon bull. Chloe takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. I can almost see the thoughts swirling around her head, 'Just smile,' she's telling herself, 'Pretend like it doesn't bother you.'
Walk away Josh, I tell myself, don't embarrass yourself. So I do. Even though it kills me, I do.
It bothers me all day. I roll it over and over through my mind. I swear my jaw hurts from being clenched with anger for so long. How dare people talk badly about Chloe? My Chloe.
And that's when I realize that I'm not over her, and I'm never going to be. Ever.
That night, I sit on my couch watching Sports Center, but I still can't keep my mind on anything. Not even hockey or baseball or golf or anything. That pained smile keeps playing through my mind, and I can't help but compare to the genuine one I used to receive from her whenever I cracked a joke or told her I loved her.
And eventually I come to a point where I can't take it anymore.
Before I even know what I'm doing, I'm grabbing my letterman jacket and keys and heading out the door.
The rain pounds hard against the windshield and on the metal roof, and the street lights blare in the warm downpour. It's almost summer now, the year almost over.
The patter of raindrops is the only thing I'm aware of. I don't even know where I'm going until I'm already there, and I throw the car into park and hop out, not bothering to turn it off or close the door. All that matter is getting to the doorbell, to the front step.
After a few moments, the door opens and there she stands, a shocks expression on her face. Just in her bathrobe, her eyes look puffy from crying. I blink to keep the water out of my eyes,
"Chloe..."
She kicks off her slippers and wriggled out of her plush bathrobe in one swift motion. All I notice is that she's wearing her favorite pink pajamas. Then she slowly steps out onto the porch, closing the door quietly behind her.
"Josh, it's ten o'clock at night-"
"Please, let me say what I need to say before I go crazy," I beg, and Chloe crosses her arms.
I take this as my cue to keep going,
"Those kids at school, they mean nothing. They don't know you, a-and they can't judge you for dirt. But that girl I saw at school today, I don't even know who she is."
Chloe's lip is trembling, and I reach out to grab her arm comfortingly. She pulls away.
