Every single boyfriend I've ever had has been stolen by my best friend. And she always caps it off with the same smug little line: "If he can be stolen, he wasn't worth keeping." So, in a fit of rage, I found the ugliest, trashiest scumbag I could. That night, she showed up at my door, reeking of booze, a sneer on her face. "You're really getting desperate, aren't you? You'd even stoop to that kind of trash!" But as she spoke, tears started rolling down her cheeks. "You'd rather have him... than have me." 1 The moment I told Sloane I had a new boyfriend, she did exactly what I knew she would. She showed up in a killer outfit, all tight fabric and strategic cutouts. A sliver of her toned stomach was visible above the waistband of a micro-miniskirt that showcased a pair of long, pin-straight legs. She sauntered toward me, but when her eyes landed on the man standing by my side, Ethan, her confident smile froze solid. "You're telling me this is your boyfriend?" Before I could answer, Ethan blew a gasket. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Rachel and I like each other, so yeah, I'm her boyfriend! Let me tell you, if it wasn't for her, I wouldn't even be wasting my time meeting you." Underneath a disastrous explosion of bleached hair, his narrow eyes bulged with indignation. His skin had a sallow, unhealthy tint, and his leg bounced restlessly as he spoke. He was the perfect picture of a street-corner sleazeball. "Rachel," Sloane said, her voice dripping with disdain, "you've really outdone yourself." Seeing the disgust in her eyes didn't hurt at all. In fact, it was thrilling. This was the first time I’d ever seen her look so completely thrown. The last time, when I was dating a slick corporate shark, she’d claimed she was just "testing his loyalty for me." The next day, they were Instagram official. I was seething, but she just gave me that infuriatingly charming smile and said, "If he can be stolen, he wasn't worth keeping." Then there was the pretty-boy actor I dated. For him, she didn't even bother with a pretense. She just showed up to his set looking like a supermodel and walked away with him. The actor broke up with me in a flood of tears, and when I furiously jumped on Sloane's back and tried to bite her, she just calmly lectured me. "If he falls for a little temptation like that, he's not worth your time anyway." After that, I got smarter. I screened my boyfriends meticulously—career, looks, character. I even tried to keep them a secret from Sloane. But it never worked. She always managed to steal them, and then she’d have the audacity to lecture me about it. "Oh, my sweet Rachel," she’d say, "compared to those snakes, you're just a babe in the woods. How could I ever trust them with you? I'm just taking one for the team." I racked my brain, trying to figure out a way to finally beat her at her own game. And then, I met Ethan. The second I saw him, I knew. This time, I was going to win. 2 Even after we sat down in the cafe, Sloane’s face was a thundercloud. I’d never seen her like this. While a part of me was secretly giddy, I slid the menu over to her. She didn't even glance at it, just snapped at the waiter, "Iced black coffee. Extra ice." Ethan, completely oblivious, slung an arm around my shoulders and pulled the menu toward him. "Babe, whatever you want, I'll get it for you." Watching Sloane's expression darken even further, I decided to twist the knife. I snuggled into his side and purred, "I want a latte, something sweet just like you." He leaned in to kiss my forehead. I braced myself for the impact, but just before his lips touched my skin, Sloane slammed her fist on the table. "Rachel, tell me. What could you possibly see in him?" Sloane and I were both daughters of Bridgewater’s most prominent families. The very first lesson we ever had was in etiquette and emotional control. But right now, the class valedictorian looked like she was about to erupt. Her face was pale with rage, her eyes burning with a volcanic fire. This was spiraling far beyond what I’d planned. I thought she would just swallow her disgust and try to seduce Ethan like all the others, and I would finally get to laugh in her face. But now, all I wanted was for this to be over. "Sloane, he's actually... he's..." I stammered, unsure what to say with Ethan right there. But he shot up from his seat, jabbing a finger in her direction. "You just can't stand to see us happy, can you!" he snarled. "What, are you gay or something? Got a thing for my Rachel?" Every head in the cafe swiveled in our direction. I watched Sloane's face drain of all color. Her hands were clenched into tight fists, and I could see the muscle in her jaw working as she ground her teeth. Ethan, the idiot, was completely unaware of the danger he was in. He was preening, proud of himself for silencing her. He didn't know that Sloane was the state kickboxing champion. "Sloane, Ethan's just joking, don't take it seriously," I pleaded, trying to defuse the situation. But she didn't seem to hear me. Her gaze was locked on me, intense and piercing. "So, what's your choice?" Her eyes were so deep, so sharp, that a strange knot of fear tightened in my stomach. "I... I..." I didn't even know what she was asking. "Fine," she said, her voice flat. "I get it." She turned and walked out of the cafe. And in that moment, a real, gut-wrenching panic seized me. 3 It's true that Sloane stole every boyfriend I had, and damn her, she succeeded every single time. I hated her for it, wanted to scream and tear my hair out. But that didn't change the simple, undeniable fact that I couldn't live without her. We’d been in the same schools since kindergarten. Our families did business together, our mothers were inseparable, so it was only natural that we became best friends. She was bold and confident; I was the quiet, well-behaved daughter. Because of that, I was an easy target at school. My mom always dismissed it as kids just being kids, but Sloane never saw it that way. The boy who pulled my pigtails ended up pinned to the ground with her sitting on his chest. The girl who called me a mute got a lovely caricature drawn on her face in permanent marker. Sloane even laid down the law: "Anyone who wants to mess with Rachel has to go through me on the playground first." Overnight, I went from being the pathetic victim to the untouchable plague. Everyone gave me a wide berth. After we graduated and started learning the ropes at our respective family companies, I felt like she began to change. When I got my first real boyfriend, I told her immediately, hoping for my best friend’s blessing. Instead, she started undermining me, flirting with him, stealing him away. She did it again and again. I started to believe that we weren't really best friends anymore. But then, during a major negotiation with the formidable Apex Corporation, she found out I was her main competitor. Without blinking, she dropped out of the running, handing me a two-hundred-million-dollar project. Just like that. In that moment, I felt like nothing had ever changed between us. Or maybe... maybe something had been added, something I couldn't quite name. 4 I bolted out of the cafe without a second thought. Seeing her walking away, her shoulders slumped in a way I'd never seen before, my heart ached with a sour, unfamiliar pain. "Sloane! I'm sorry about today. How about afternoon tea at The Hilton? Just the two of us?" She didn't even turn around. "I don't need your pity brunch," she said, her voice like ice. "Save your money and take your boyfriend." She was angry, I knew that, but I couldn't figure out why. "Where are you going? Let me give you a ride!" I caught up to her, but she deliberately hailed a taxi and slipped inside. As the car sped past, all I could see was her forlorn face in the window. A wave of frustration washed over me, which only intensified when I saw Ethan sauntering over, a smug look plastered on his face. "Babe, that friend of yours is just a stuck-up brat. With a temper like that, it's no wonder she can't get a man. You should probably hang out with her less." That was it. The polite, gentle Rachel vanished. He’d been my "boyfriend" for all of two days, and he thought he had the right to criticize Sloane? "The only person I'll be seeing less of is you," I snapped. I waved at the cafe's entrance, and a couple of security guards immediately came over to block Ethan's path. 5 I drove around the city for hours, aimless and empty. Nearly all of my weekends were spent with Sloane. I was realizing for the first time just how unbearable a day could be without her. It was late when I finally got home. To try and lift my spirits, I drew a hot bath and lit a new scented candle. The sweet scent of bluebells mingled with a hint of cedarwood, and I felt my tense muscles finally begin to relax. Just as I was sinking into the water, a frantic knocking echoed from the front door. It was late, and my building had some of the best security in the country. I couldn’t imagine who it could be, but I knew it had to be someone I knew. They wouldn't have let a stranger up. I swung the door open without a second thought, and my heart stopped. It was Sloane. She’d been gone for only half a day, but she looked like she’d been through a war. She reeked of alcohol, her usually perfect bob was a mess, and her eyes, red-rimmed and raw, sharpened with a familiar mockery when they landed on me. "You're really getting desperate, aren't you? Stooping to trash like Ethan!" A sharp pain, like a needle to the heart, shot through me. My chest felt tight, and my first instinct was to lash back. "Did you really come all the way here in the middle of the night just to insult me? Because if so—" My words were cut off as she threw her arms around me, pulling me into a crushing hug. Her chin dug into my shoulder, and I felt a sudden warmth spreading through the fabric of my robe. She was crying. "Why..." her voice was a choked whisper. "You'd rather have him... than have me..." My breath hitched. My heart started pounding against my ribs like a drum. "Sloane, I... I would never choose him over you..." Her head snapped up, her eyes locking onto mine. A flicker of hope ignited in their depths, so bright it made my cheeks burn. "We're best friends..." As the words left my mouth, the light in her eyes died as quickly as it had appeared. She dropped her gaze, her expression sullen. It was only then that I started to understand. A cool autumn breeze drifted through the open window, and the silence in the room was deafening. It was the first time I'd ever felt this strange, fragile tension between us. "Sloane, the thing with Ethan..." I reached for her arm, wanting to explain everything. But she stumbled, falling against me, and promptly threw up all over my chest. The sight of the white, foul-smelling mess mixed with the acrid stench of alcohol obliterated every ounce of guilt and replaced it with a piercing shriek. "SLOANE!" 6 The ruined top went straight into the trash. I glanced over at her and saw that her own shirt was in even worse shape. Dressed in a clean slip dress, I hauled her toward the bathroom. She was swaying unsteadily but was surprisingly compliant. But when I reached out to pull off her shirt, she clutched it to her chest, her face turning a deep shade of red. "Are you... are you sure about this?" She was definitely drunk. "Positive," I said firmly, leaving no room for argument. She smelled awful. Was she planning on keeping that shirt on until Christmas? But as my fingers brushed her collar, she suddenly leaned in, her body pressing against mine. The intoxicating scent of alcohol and something uniquely her washed over me. I saw her face, her flawless skin, getting closer and closer. The tip of her nose brushed against mine, and then I felt a soft, warm pressure on my lips. Sloane was kissing me. My face felt like it was on fire. My heart hammered against my ribs, and my palms grew slick with sweat. My brain completely short-circuited. I just stood there, frozen, a deer in the headlights. She slowly pulled back, a dangerous, unreadable glint in her eyes. "No," she murmured, her voice husky. "That’s not responsible enough." And then, her hand reached up and pulled down the thin strap of my dress. My mind exploded. I finally understood what she meant by "responsible." Heat flooded my entire body, all the way to the tips of my ears. Mortified, I shoved her away. "I think you're drunk out of your mind! Wash yourself!" I couldn't even look at her as I fled from the bathroom and locked myself in my room. 7 Tossing and turning, I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, the image of Sloane kissing me flashed in my mind. Even more mortifying, I found myself replaying the feeling—that soft, warm, yielding pressure. I'd never felt anything like it from any of my boyfriends. Oh god. Am I actually gay? I burrowed under the covers, rolling back and forth in a cocoon of shame and confusion. Just then, I heard slow, deliberate footsteps outside my door. Is Sloane coming in? I shot out from under the blankets, quickly turned on my side, and squeezed my eyes shut, pretending to be asleep. I waited. Five whole minutes passed, but the doorknob never turned. Is she mad at me? But I'm the one who should be mad! Then, I heard the click of a lamp in the living room, followed by the soft creak of the sofa. She was sleeping on the couch. A strange pang of disappointment hit me. We’d been having sleepovers since we were kids, always piling into the same bed. Why did this feel so... wrong? Was I really this upset just because she wasn't sleeping in my bed? For the first time, I felt like I didn't understand myself at all. I squeezed my eyes shut, determined to force myself to sleep. Just as I was drifting off, I heard my bedroom door creak open. It was Sloane. The room was dim, lit only by the warm orange glow of my nightlight. It cast a soft, almost melancholy light on her. I’d never seen her look so vulnerable. She walked to my bedside, took my hand, and gently traced the lines on my palm. Her expression was a raw mix of sorrow, loneliness, and guilt. "Rachel, I'm so sorry..." she whispered, her voice hoarse and still thick with the lingering scent of alcohol. I guessed she hadn't slept either. I watched her through my eyelashes as she stood there, just looking at me. Finally, as if afraid of waking me, she turned to leave. But my hand shot out and grabbed her arm before she could. "I'm scared," I mumbled, my voice sleepy. "Don't go." Her body went still. Then I heard a soft chuckle as she gracefully climbed into bed beside me. An instant later, I was enveloped in her familiar, comforting scent. Within seconds, I was fast asleep. 8 The next morning, I was woken by the soft rustle of fabric. I opened my eyes to see Sloane pulling on one of my dresses. At five-foot-nine, she turned my knee-length sundress into a very short mini-dress. She had a dancer's waist and a lean build, but years of training had given her sleek, toned muscles that hinted at a quiet strength. "You have an amazing body, Sloane," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. She turned, and when I met her knowing gaze, I blushed. "Like what you see?" Her eyes traveled from my face down to my lips. The memory of last night's kiss flooded back, and my cheeks grew hot. Without thinking, I blurted out, "Do you remember what happened last night?" The second I said it, I wanted to bite my tongue off. "Which part?" she asked, a smirk playing on her lips. "You know... the..." I stammered, unable to finish. She let out a sudden laugh. Confused, I watched as she wrapped an arm around me, pulling me into a hug. "I remember..." she began, drawing out the words, making my heart pound in my throat. "...that you insisted on giving me a bath, tried to rip my clothes off, and then you totally forced a kiss on me!" What? Looking at her mischievous, sparkling eyes, I realized she was teasing me. I was so mortified I could have died. I launched myself off the bed as she darted for the door. I grabbed pillows and cushions, hurling them at her, but I didn't even come close to hitting her. "Sloane! You asshole, you're messing with me!" I shrieked, stomping around the living room. She had just stepped out the door, but she suddenly poked her head back in. "Rachel, what did you think happened?" Her expression was suddenly serious, a hint of frustration in her eyes. "Because I only kiss people I have feelings for." I froze, completely stunned. My brain felt like it was filled with cotton. I didn't know what to think, what to feel, what our relationship even was anymore. I took a slow step toward her. We needed to talk. But right then, my phone rang. The name "Ethan" glowed on the screen, and Sloane's face immediately darkened. "Rachel, it's almost nine. Are you going to be late for work? Don't tell me you're turning into one of those lovesick fools who lives for romance." Seeing the anger on her face, I immediately, and very obsequiously, declined the call. She turned and left without another word. I grabbed a jacket and raced out the door after her. "My beautiful, kind, generous Sloane! My car's broken down, you have to give me a ride!" I whined, trailing behind her like a lost puppy. She kept her face set in a stony mask, but she didn't stop me from getting into the passenger seat of her car.
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