I Kissed Shara Wheeler(90)

God. Shall I compare thee to an icebox pie? Couldn’t be gayer if she tried.

“I’m so stupid,” Chloe realizes out loud.

“No, you’re not,” Shara says. “You’re very smart. That’s our whole thing.”

“But you—this—ugh,” Chloe says. “It’s so—obvious. How come I didn’t figure it out sooner?”

“Took me a while too,” Shara says, and Chloe pushes the sweet tea out of the way and kisses the smirk off her lips.

They leave the glasses sweating on the counter and drift to Chloe’s bedroom, where Shara spends ten minutes touching everything. She examines the framed photos on the dresser and desk and scrutinizes the skincare products on the bathroom counter and flips through the NYU brochures.

“I don’t understand why anyone needs this many editions of Anne of Green Gables,” Shara says, thumbing the green spine of the ’90s edition Chloe inherited from her mama, and Chloe rolls her eyes and sits on the bed.

“You’re so nosy,” Chloe says, as if she minds.

“At least I didn’t break into your house to do this,” Shara says, “unlike some people I could mention.”

She gives Chloe that look again, and Chloe groans.

“Rory.”

“Smith, actually.”

“Whatever,” Chloe says. “Can you come back over here?”

Shara’s face goes serious.

“I’m, um,” she says. She looks at Chloe on the bed. “I’m gonna need to take it slow.”

“That’s fine.”

“I’m not saving myself for marriage or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Shara adds, so defensive that it sounds like a lie. “I’m just not ready for the other stuff.”

Chloe’s brow furrows. “I wasn’t planning on doing any other stuff?”

“You weren’t like … expecting that?”

“Did you think I was?”

Shara looks away, shrugging. “Kind of.”

The answer startles a laugh out of her before she can cover her mouth, and Shara’s instantly glaring.

“Sorry, sorry!” Chloe says. “But, Shara, you’ve known me for four years. When have I ever given you the impression that I’m getting laid? I’ve never even dated anyone.”

Shara folds her arms unhappily. “Yeah, but you’re from LA and your moms probably actually explained stuff to you. And you’re so … confident.”

“Okay, well,” Chloe says, beginning to count off on her fingers. “One, you can’t tell anyone I said this, but being from LA does not mean I’m cool or know anything about anything. Two.” She holds up a second finger. “Yes, my moms did explain different kinds of sex to me, but it was such an embarrassing conversation that I don’t even remember most of it. And three.” A final finger. “If I seem confident, it’s because I have to. You, of all people, know what I mean.”

Shara considers this, then edges toward the bed.

“Okay,” she says. Her knees brush against Chloe’s, white eyelet lace skimming skin.

Chloe takes Shara’s hand and lays it against the side of her neck, and Shara’s palm presses into her skin.

“Don’t be nervous,” Chloe says. “Just like, pretend I’m the AP Calc test.”

Shara’s glare flickers back. “I should have let you fall out the window.”

“I have scratch paper,” Chloe says, “you can check my desk—”

Shara’s hand drops from Chloe’s neck to her shoulder, and then she’s pushing Chloe down on the bed and kissing her, one hand pinning her to the mattress and the other on her waist. It’s the first time Shara’s kissed her with both intent and confidence, and it’s about as thorough and heart-stopping as can be expected of a perfectionist with a competitive streak.

Chloe’s never been kissed on a bed before. It’s her first time feeling the corner of a throw pillow wedged under her head while the mattress springs push her back up into someone else’s body. She’s never kissed anybody like this.

She’s glad it’s Shara. Nobody else would have felt important enough.



* * *



“You know,” Chloe says, “there’s a lot we still need to talk about.”

Shara props herself up on a pillow. “Like what?”

They’ve made out for—well, Chloe doesn’t know how long. It felt like a long time. There’s a faint red mark blooming on Shara’s neck, which is probably the coolest thing Chloe has ever seen in her life.

“Do you want to start with the way you full-on staged your own disappearance to sabotage my academic career,” Chloe says, “or would you rather discuss how you may have sent your dad to federal prison?”

“He has a very expensive lawyer,” Shara says. “He’ll be fine.”

“Okay, so the first one, then.”

Shara sighs, ducking her head into her own shoulder so her hair falls across her face. “I don’t know what else you want me to say, Chloe. Do you really want me to apologize?”

“It’s more that I want to know how you feel about it now.”

“I feel … less confused,” Shara says slowly. “This has all been real informative.”