Chapter 2

Before the betrayal, our lives were woven together. We were Chloe and Liam, a single entity in our quiet suburban neighborhood.

I remember when we were ten, sitting on the curb outside his house, sharing a popsicle.

"When we grow up," he said, his mouth stained red, "we' re going to be journalists. We' ll travel the world and write important stories."

"Together?" I asked, my heart thumping.

"Of course, together. You and me, Chloe. Always."

That was the moment it started for me. The crush that would define my teenage years.

He was the sun, and I was a planet caught in his orbit.

When we were sixteen, he got his driver' s license. The first place he drove was to my house. He honked the horn of his dad' s expensive car until I came out.

"Get in," he said, grinning. "I' m taking you somewhere."

He drove us to a viewpoint overlooking the city. The lights twinkled below us.

"I passed my driving test for you," he said, his voice suddenly serious. "So I could drive you places."

I didn' t know what to say. My hands were sweating.

He leaned over and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. "You' re always taking care of me, Chloe. Bringing me food when I' m studying, reminding me about assignments. It' s my turn to take care of you."

I felt like I was floating. From that day on, my devotion doubled. I studied for his tests more than my own. I wrote his essays when he was too busy with sports. I was his planner, his cheerleader, his shadow.

My friends warned me. "He' s using you, Chloe."

I didn' t listen. I was in love.

But sometimes, his perfect mask would slip. I' d bring him a smoothie I made, and he' d sigh.

"Chloe, you don' t have to do this all the time. It' s a bit much."

The words stung, but I' d just smile and say, "I don' t mind."

The summer before senior year, we had a huge fight. He was supposed to be studying for his SATs, but he went to a party instead and got drunk. I found out and went to pick him up.

He was furious. "Why are you always following me? I can' t breathe! You' re not my mother!"

He yelled at me in front of all his friends. I was so embarrassed I could have died. I drove him home in silence and didn' t speak to him for a week.

He showed up at my door with a bouquet of my favorite flowers and a carefully worded apology.

"I was an idiot, Chloe. I' m just stressed. Forgive me?"

And I did. Of course, I did.

A few weeks later, we sat in his living room, filling out college applications.

"Okay," he said, turning to me with that charming smile. "Northwestern. Medill School of Journalism. It' s the best. If I get in, you have to come with me. Promise?"

"Promise," I whispered, my heart soaring.

He was making a future for us. I poured all my energy into my application, my essays, my grades. I got my early decision acceptance letter in December.

I ran to his house to tell him, the letter clutched in my hand.

He hugged me tight. "I knew you' d get in. We' re going to be amazing, Chloe."

He never told me he hadn' t even applied.