Love, Chloe - Alessandra Torre Page 0,10

work, the constant stop and go of the traffic giving the writing a slightly jagged appearance, as if the words were haunted. I kept it short, wanting to actually accomplish the list, each item pretty damn important.

1. Get an apartment.

2. Pay off NYU and get my degree.

3. Don’t sleep with Vic.

Granted, it was more of a to-do list than proper resolutions, but whatever. Being new to the grown-up table, I was allowed some slack. My list was also way less glamorous than Nicole’s, whose included being nominated for an Oscar (Resolution #4) and buying a house in Bali (Resolution #18). But I figured the chances of her getting an Oscar and me not sleeping with Vic were pretty neck-and-neck.

I carefully tore out the page and folded it in half, sticking it into my wallet, the action reverent, as if the location might increase my chances. I put the wallet into my purse, reaching down and pulling on my heels as Dante turned down Cammie’s street. Benta lived in a luxury tower, but Cammie loved her brownstone duplex. I wasn’t a fan. The heat came out through a steam radiator, for God’s sake. The woman couldn’t stand germs but bathed in water that shot from 200-year-old pipes.

The SUV rocked as we pulled closer, and I leaned across, trying to see through the snow, my eyes squinting on the figure in front of the brownstone. It was Cammie, stamping her feet against the cold, looking pissed. I cracked open the door, surprised to see Dante jump out, his grin wide and friendly, one he’d never flashed at me.

Hmmm. So the ice king did melt. Maybe I just wasn’t his brand of heat.

His grin instantly softened Cammie’s scowl. I stumbled out, slipping on the icy sidewalk, Dante completely unaware as he shook Cammie’s gloved hands, her giggle floating my way. I tried to sneak by and their lovefest came to an end, Cammie’s hand reaching out and grabbing my coat. “Can’t go up there.”

“Why?”

“Something clogged up the plumbing on our floor. The whole place is flooded. I’m waiting for a ride.”

“Boyfriend coming to pick you up?” Dante spoke from behind me and I turned at the question, raising my eyebrows.

“No, just a cab.” Cammie said, smiling. She glanced at me. “I thought we could go to Benta’s.”

“Let me drive you.”

Wow. Definitely not the Dante I knew. He and Cammie were suddenly in movement, one of his hands on her elbow, helping her across the curb, the other opening her door, apparently no need to consult little Chloe in the decision-making process. I slogged alone through the snow, and managed to climb, unescorted, into the passenger side.

We pulled away, and Cammie beamed at me, any irritation over the plumbing gone. “He’s hot,” she mouthed, nodding toward the front.

I shrugged as if I hadn’t noticed, more than a little irritated at Dante’s 180 toward friendliness. Then again, Cammie and I had always appealed to different types—a good thing for a friendship. “Go for it,” I mouthed back. I settled into the seat, turning up the heater, and watched her do just that.

9. My old friend: Tiffany

I woke up Saturday morning on Benta’s loveseat, a spare comforter wrapped around me, a puddle of drool underneath my cheek, to the distinct sounds of a hookup. Not skin-slapping, breath-gasping actual humping, but something solidly in the second-base vicinity.

My spot in the living room gave me a front-row view of the action, happening on Benta’s kitchen counter. Cammie’s dark bare legs were wrapped around one hell of a jean-covered ass, her pale pink nails digging into the guy’s white T-shirt.

“Ahem.” My subtle throat clear got me nothing, the frantic kissing—if anything—heating up.

“Cam.” I reached for my cell, ready to throw it at her, my eyes instead catching on the time display. And that was when my irritation grew tenfold. Not even eight. On a Saturday morning. I rolled over on the loveseat, throwing the blanket over my head, not at all interested in meeting her date. I had a pretty good idea of who it was, especially when I heard the smooth scrape of an accent whisper her name. I hid under the covers, eavesdropping despite my best attempt to go back to sleep. At some point among their whispered goodbyes, I fell back asleep and was spared anything more ’til noon, when Cammie and Benta pushed me awake and into clothes, promising sushi and sake.

An hour later, and I would scream if I heard Dante’s name one more