She grabbed the jar and the candy from me as if her life depended on it, stuck one end in her mouth, and bit down with a vengeance. I couldn’t completely keep the grin off my face, because this tough-as-nails girl seemed to think she needed artificial red dye and sugar to get through tricky decisions, hard times, and stress. Sometimes I swear she lost sight of what a badass she really was.

Once she swallowed, she said, “Let’s sleep on it. You might be impulsive, but I like to think things through. This way, you can decide whether you’re really up for such a sacrifice.”

“Deal. I work until eight tomorrow night but let’s talk after that.”

“If either of us has doubts, we call it off. Stage a breakup,” she insisted.

I nodded once, leaned in, pressed a platonic kiss to her candy-sweet lips, and turned to go.

Fact was, I wasn’t sure if I was willing for that to be the last time I kissed Chloe. There was too much I didn’t know about her, that I’d never thought to wonder about her, but now… I was starting to wonder.

Chapter 5

Chloe

Once Holden was out the door, I leaned my back against it, still hugging my Twizzlers jar, thinking even if I consumed all three jars in my possession tonight, it wouldn’t put a dent on the shaky stress fest inside of me.

I reached into the pocket of my jacket and took out my phone.

Are you home yet? I typed to Presley, my best friend, who lived two floors up in the same building. She’d been out of town all week, and I hadn’t had a chance to fill her in on anything. None of my week was suitable for a text convo; it was an in-person wine and Twizzlers convo.

For a couple of hours now. Tonight was your work thing, right? Boring as always?

She didn’t even know Angelica was sick, let alone all the Holden drama.

Can I come up? I typed, biting my lip till it hurt.

Of course.

That was all I needed. I slipped out of my apartment, phone, keys, and candy in hand, and speed-walked to the stairwell at the end of the hall.

Presley whipped the door open as soon as I knocked, and I made a beeline into her apartment.

“What in the blazes of hell is going on?” she asked, closing the door behind me.

Her apartment layout was identical to mine, and I went past the kitchen, into the living room, kicked my shoes off, and plunked my butt in one corner of her plush dark gray sectional that felt like a warm hug.

Presley stepped into the kitchen, which was open to the living room, and gave my candy jar a look. “Rosé then?”