Pretty much every weekend since her engagement, Chloe's been choosing a different area of her apartment to clean and try to revamp, attempting to literally make room for her new future in anyway she can. This time it's her bedroom closet, the most daunting disaster. After a good bit of real-life Tetris, Chloe spots an abandoned cardboard box on the top shelf, sunken into the corner and with a grasp that isn't quite there pulls it from clinging cobwebs. Curious, she finds a seat on her bed, nostalgia getting the best of her. Once it's opening, she peels back layers of clothes that were supposed to have been sent to the Goodwill ages ago, cringing at bit at her younger self's taste. Under a hot pink cardigan that she can't believe she ever owned, she finds an old photograph and it immediately packs a punch to her heart.
"Sullivan!" Whitney shouts heading into her eight period art class only about, what can't be more than, a minute after the dismissal bell has rung.
She turns towards his voice, a smile quickly appearing at the sight of him. He's out of breath but leans against the door frame casually. It'd be annoying if it wasn't pretty much the most adorable thing Chloe's ever seen. She sighs at him, feigning disapproval. "Did you sprint here? You know how I feel about running in the halls."
He smirks and strides into the classroom with more suave than anyone should be allowed to have. "Maybe." He surveys the room, takes in the tripods and backdrops that have been set up in various spots around the room. "What's going on in here?"
"Mock photoshoot," she answers while leading him to one of the backdrops, giving them a bit of cover. She reaches into her overstuffed messenger bag and carefully pulls out Whitney's red and yellow letterman jacket. She passes it to him. "So you're here for this I suspect? For the first time ever I had to actually put my books in my locker."
"What makes you think I'm not here to see you?" He asks as he slips it on.
She decides to be logical. "Because you forgot your beloved jacket at my house last night and I know how lost you are without it, Whitney." She pauses, side glances the other side of the room where a few stragglers are caught up in their own world. "Also if you wanted to see me you know that this isn't the place."
The words don't leave her mouth as lightly as she intends. They never do.
And Chloe feels like she's ruined the moment before it even had a chance to begin when Whitney's beautiful smirk falls. After a moment, he turns his back to any welcomed eyes and moves farther behind the hung muslin, beckoning her closer there. She's always surprised by the tenderness that accompanies the strength of his hand when he touches her, his fingers cradling her jaw, and Chloe leans into it without a thought toward anything else.
Quietly and with his eyes never leaving hers, he says, "One day, the place will be everywhere." Whitney seals the promise with a soft and undemanding kiss to her lips. When he pulls back, he pulls her in, fitting his chin atop of her head and pressing his lips to her crown once, twice, before whispering on a shaky breath, "Chloe. God." He pauses. "I—I. Tell me that you know."
"I know," Chloe says against his chest, his heart. It sounds like her whole world. "I shouldn't have said—I'm sorry. I know. Me too, Fordman."
He kisses her again and bends his head to hers. "Don't apologize. Not for anything. How much time do we have?"
She doesn't want to move so she reaches into the front pocket of his jeans, where she knows his cell will be. Pressing a side button, she gets what she's looking for. "Photography club starts in about three minutes."
"Which means that time is up," Whitney responds with a small laugh that's barely there.
"Yeah," she confirms ruefully.
Still neither one of them let go just yet.
Chloe's eyes burn as she traces the photograph with slow fingers, feeling her heart break like she's fifteen all over again. Whitney'd put on the role of 'popular jock' reluctantly but seamlessly when the club had trickled in soon after. Luckily, jocks were immature so that had given him an excuse to grab her to his side, a quick All-American smile prompting the student photographer to take a picture of them. She'd always meant to get a copy for Whitney but she had never gotten the chance, him and their future having been taken away sooner than she could have ever imagined.
And like that, Chloe's world is thrown off of its axis. Suddenly, she's unsure of this newfound happiness and how rapidly it's paled, gutted by her past.