Page 115 of I Kissed Shara Wheeler
One second of consideration, two, and then Shara calls out, “I’m almost done with my hair! Hang on!”
She throws off her robe and grabs a pair of sneakers, spinning around to show Chloe the open back of her dress.
“Zip me up.”
When Chloe reaches for the zipper, her fingertips graze warm skin, and her heart is five million bits of stage glitter swirling in an overture spotlight, and then Shara’s stomping her sneakers on and climbing over the windowsill. She pauses at the top of the ladder and looks back at Chloe.
“Are you coming or what?”
“This was literally my idea!” Chloe hisses, but Shara’s already out of sight.
FROM THE BURN PILE
Rejected drafts of Shara’s final card for Chloe, scribbled in the margins of her notes for the Chem II exam
Chloe,
You win. I hope that’s what you wanted.
Chloe,
Of all the things I’ve tried to hide under my pillow, you’ve got to be the most persistent.
Chloe,
There was this one weekend, a million summers ago, when I sat on the shore drinking a frozen limeade, and I realized the only thing I wanted to look at was the way the sun hit the girls swimming in the lake.
The problem has always been this: When I look at you, I taste lime, and I see light on water.
23
DAYS SINCE CHLOE CLIMBED THROUGH SHARA’S WINDOW (THE SECOND TIME): 0
They jump the fence and take off running.
Shara’s fast when she wants to be, which Chloe probably should have expected. They clear Rory’s yard in seconds. As soon as they’re around the corner, Shara grabs her hand, and Chloe nearly shouts a laugh at the feeling of Shara’s fingers between hers. This is really happening, huh?
The dolphin fountain is overflowing now, spilling laundry suds all over the pristine grass and puddling around Chloe’s tires.
“Where are we going?” Shara asks her.
“My house!” Chloe says, out of breath. “My moms have pottery class in Birmingham on Monday nights.”
“Okay,” Shara says. She releases Chloe’s hand, breaking for the driver’s side. “Throw me the keys.”
“It’s my car,” Chloe points out.
Shara flips her hair over her shoulder, like that’s irrelevant. “I’m fast.”
She’s never considered “getaway driving” as one of Shara’s skills, but she has to admit, Shara’s been good at everything else she’s tried to do so far. She loops around to the passenger side and tosses the keys over the hood.
“Don’t wreck it or it’s my ass.”
Shara catches the keys in one hand and rolls her eyes. “I’m a great driver.”
And then she’s sliding into the driver seat, stealing the sunglasses out of Chloe’s cup holder and putting them on.
It takes half a minute for Shara to turn Chloe’s hand-me-down Camry into a music video. She rolls the windows down and takes the right turn out of the country club toward Chloe’s house without asking for directions, and she’s right—she is a good driver. She stays perfectly between the lines. One hand on the wheel, pink hair flying, knees apart under her church dress. They pass a car with a missing headlight, and Shara slaps the ceiling.
