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.
We all have that one summer we never quite forget. Mine has a face, a name, and an uncomfortable amount of borrowed lip gloss. mysitershotfriend
I was seventeen. Chloe was twenty, wore ripped band tees like they were couture, and laughed with her whole body. She also had this habit of making coffee in the morning while leaning against the counter in nothing but an oversized hoodie and socks. The kitchen became my personal obstacle course of trying not to stare. By August, she moved into an apartment near campus