Mysitershotfriend -

Her name was Chloe. She was my older sister’s college roommate, and when their sublet fell through in June, my mom—bless her oblivious heart—said, “Of course she can stay in the guest room.” What my mom didn’t realize was that Chloe wasn’t just my sister’s friend . She was, in the most devastating, inconvenient way possible, *my sister’s hot friend.

Looking back, it wasn’t about Chloe being “hot.” It was about her treating me like a person, not just a kid. She showed up, she was kind, and she confused every teenage hormone I had into something almost tender. mysitershotfriend

I was seventeen. Chloe was twenty, wore ripped band tees like they were couture, and laughed with her whole body. She also had this habit of making coffee in the morning while leaning against the counter in nothing but an oversized hoodie and socks. The kitchen became my personal obstacle course of trying not to stare. Her name was Chloe

The Summer My Sister’s Hot Friend Moved In Next Door Looking back, it wasn’t about Chloe being “hot

And yeah. You also learn to make a mean cup of coffee.