Chloe and Claire had been inseparable since they were toddlers. They grew up on the same suburban block, attended the same schools, and shared every classroom. They did everything as a pair: they stayed up late studying, skipped the classes they hated, experimented with questionable fashion trends, and navigated the awkwardness of high school dances together. They were like sisters, though both were only children.
From the very beginning, Chloe was the one in charge. She was the pioneer, the one who always had to be first.
— Let’s go skinny-dipping in the creek tonight.
— I’m in.
There was something wild about Chloe, a sharp, restless energy that bled into her behavior and the way she spoke. She lived as if the world were constantly daring her to do something stupid, and she was more than happy to oblige. Whenever a reckless idea struck her, a peculiar, mischievous glint would light up her eyes—her “inner demons” coming out to play.
— I bet you I can put a rock through Mr. Harrison’s office window, — she said one afternoon, her eyes dancing with anticipation.
— Are you crazy? — Claire tried to reason with her. — He’s the meanest, most observant dean in the whole district. He’ll hunt you down. It’s not worth the risk.
— No risk, no reward, — Chloe replied. It was her unofficial manifesto. — So, what do you say? You want to bet?
— Fine. But if you don’t do it, you’re doing my Calculus homework for a month, — Claire agreed.
With that unofficial seal of approval, Chloe would bolt off to turn her dares into reality. It stayed like that for years. She won every bet, using the stakes as a fuel to reach whatever reckless goal she had set for herself.
She was the first in their circle to bleach her hair and get a piercing. She was the first to kiss the captain of the football team. She was the one who convinced half the senior class to “borrow” the master keys to the gym and throw an unauthorized party.
Claire was her polar opposite. Quiet, steady, and a straight-A student, she hated being the center of attention. She preferred to blend into the background, watching Chloe’s whirlwind life from a safe distance.
— You’re incredible, Chloe. I could never do the things you do, — she’d often say.
— Oh, stop it. You could. You just need a reason and a little bit of a push.
Their paths finally diverged when it came time for college. Claire sailed through her entrance exams and got into a top-tier university. Chloe, distracted by some pointless wager she’d made over the summer, blew her finals and failed to get in.
— How did this happen? — Claire asked, genuinely worried. — We were supposed to go together. What are you going to do now?
— Don’t sweat it. I’ll figure it out. I’m not going to waste my time here—I’ll just apply somewhere else.
And she did. Chloe ended up moving to Marbella, Spain, where her aunt lived.
— I’m heading to Spain. It’s warm, the guys are hotter, and the opportunities are better.
— Then you should go. Maybe it’ll be the fresh start you need. I’ll write to you every week.
Chloe moved to the coast of Spain while Claire stayed home to finish her degree. They kept in touch through long calls and occasional emails. As it turned out, Chloe never actually finished her studies. At a party in Ibiza, she met a rising indie rock musician and ended up following his tour to France in a blur of champagne and late nights.
After that, there was a young director who took her across Germany. Then a commercial actor who caught her eye in Milan. Her life was a vibrant, chaotic montage of European cities and fleeting romances.
— God, I’m so jealous. Your life sounds like a movie, — Claire would say, listening to Chloe’s stories over the phone. — Tell me again about the time you guys stole that sponsor’s limo and spray-painted it purple?
— Please, that was nothing, — Chloe would laugh, feeding off the admiration. — You should hear what happened last weekend.
— No way! Really? You actually got away with that? — Claire’s voice was always full of genuine shock.
— Just wait. The best is yet to come.
On the surface, Chloe’s life was enviable. But beneath the highlight reel, she was drifting. She had no degree, no career, and no roots. During her years wandering through Europe, she had tried everything once and most things twice. She’d gone through three “medical procedures” to fix mistakes from various flings, but she had never actually found anything resembling love.
So, when Claire called to say she was getting married, Chloe didn’t feel happy. She felt a sharp, bitter twinge of resentment.
— Chloe, honey, I’m getting married! You’re my best friend, and I can’t imagine anyone else being my Maid of Honor.
— You? Married? — Chloe’s voice was tight. — Well, look at you. Who’s the lucky guy? Where did you even find him?
— His name is Mark. We met totally by accident. He’s handsome, strong, kind… and he has this incredible voice. You have to come home. I want to tell you everything.
— I’ll be there. You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m packing my bags already.
After she hung up, Chloe stood in front of her bathroom mirror. She studied her reflection, tracing the faint lines around her eyes with her fingers.
— What is wrong with me? — she whispered. — I’m not ugly. I’m fun. I’m interesting. Why is she the one winning?
Chloe had always assumed she would be the first to walk down the aisle.
— This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. Where is my “happily ever after”?
— Who are you talking to? — a raspy male voice called out.
It was Chloe’s latest distraction—Julian, a young photographer. He had rented a small studio apartment and invited Chloe to spend the weekend.
— Nothing, babe. My old school friend called. She’s getting married. I have to go back for the wedding.
— Great. Have fun.
— You’re not coming with me?
— Me? No way. My schedule is packed. I’ve got shoots lined up all week. You’ll be fine on your own. Go enjoy yourself.
— Fine. I’ll leave you the address just in case you change your mind.
— Don’t count on it.
— Can you believe it? — Chloe continued, pacing the room. — We did everything together. And now she’s the one getting married first. Where’s the justice in that?
— Wow. You’re really taking this personally, aren’t you?
— You don’t get it, Julian. I’m supposed to be first. Always. Who is this guy anyway? What does he see in her? I bet the wedding doesn’t even happen.
— What are you planning?
— Doesn’t matter. You want to bet?
— I bet you can’t pull off whatever you’re thinking.
— Watch me.
— Fine, — Julian grinned, suddenly intrigued. — I’ll go with you. I want to be there to see you lose this one.
— Careful, boy. You’re overestimating yourself.
The flight arrived on schedule. Claire and her fiancé, Mark, were waiting at the gate.
— Oh my god, you’re finally here! I’ve missed you so much, — Claire cried, throwing her arms around Chloe.
— Careful, you’re crushing the outfit, — Chloe joked, though she didn’t hug back as tightly. — This is Julian.
— Hey, man. Good to meet you.
— Enough with the mushy stuff, — Chloe said, breaking away. — So, is this the legendary Mark?
— “Legendary”? I like the sound of that, — Mark said, a handsome man with a warm smile and wavy hair.
— You guys are a trip, — Julian added, unable to stop smiling.
— Yes, this is him. My one and only. And Mark, this is my childhood partner-in-crime, Chloe.
Chloe scanned Mark from head to toe. He’s actually attractive, she thought. What the hell is he doing with her? How did she manage to land him?
— Why are we standing around? Julian, let’s grab the bags and head to the car. Give the ladies some time to catch up, — Mark said, picking up Chloe’s heavy suitcases.
— Thanks, honey.
Chloe and Claire talked non-stop on the drive.
— Are you staying with us, or heading to your mom’s? — Claire asked.
— My mom’s? What for? I’ll see her eventually, but I’m not in a rush. Besides, you’re getting married tomorrow. And…
— And what?
— And you need a proper bachelorette party. We need a “policeman” with a very specific set of skills. I bet I can have him eating out of my hand in five minutes.
— You never change, — Claire laughed. — Still betting on everything.
— That’s just who I am.
Chloe’s parents had divorced before she was six. Her mother had never remarried and had slowly disappeared into a bottle over the years. Chloe had no desire for a family reunion.
— Since you clearly can’t organize a party without me, I’m staying at your place. Julian is a professional photographer; he can help Mark with the bachelor party. Let the boys have their fun.
— Perfect. It’ll be great.
So Chloe moved into Claire’s guest room. Mark dropped off the bags, kissed Claire goodnight, and headed out with Julian to meet his friends at a downtown bar.
As promised, Chloe took over the bachelorette party. She ordered catering, booked a stripper, bought top-shelf liquor, and decorated the living room.
— This is Audrey, Mark’s sister. She’s here to help, — Claire introduced them.
— Great. I could use an extra pair of hands.
Audrey looked Chloe over, her eyes narrowing. This girl is trouble, she thought to herself.
Throughout the evening, Chloe was the life of the party. She toasted Claire constantly, offering nothing but praise and “heartfelt” wishes.
— You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Claire. You’ve always been there to indulge my crazy bets, — Chloe said, raising her glass.
— Maybe we should slow down on the drinks, — Audrey whispered as the night progressed. — Claire is already swaying, and it hasn’t even been two hours.
— Oh, relax. Her wedding is tomorrow! Let her have fun. We’re celebrating her health, — Chloe countered, pouring more vodka into Claire’s glass.
Then came the entertainment. There was a knock at the door.
— Finally! The guest of honor! — the tipsy bridesmaids cheered in unison.
— I’ll get it, — Chloe said, slipping to the door.
A tall, muscular man in a tight police uniform stepped inside.
— Hey, Eric. Ready? — Chloe whispered, sliding several folded bills into his pocket.
— I remember the plan.
— Good. Go get ’em.
After the initial performance, Chloe led a very intoxicated Claire into the back bedroom.
— Come on, Claire. You get a private dance.
Audrey watched them go, her face clouded with concern.
— I think she’s had enough, Chloe.
— Ugh, stop being such a buzzkill. Is your whole family this boring?
— We’re not boring. We just care about Claire.
— It’s not fair! What about us? — the other girls complained from the living room.
— Don’t worry, ladies! There’s a “fireman” waiting at the front door for you!
The doorbell rang again, followed by a chorus of shrieks. Chloe shut the bedroom door firmly. She poured one last drink and handed it to Claire.
— Drink up. It’s about to get hot in here.
Claire smiled weakly. Her head was spinning, the room was tilting, and she desperately wanted to sleep.
— Stay awake, the best part is starting. Let me help you with this blouse, it’s roasting in here. Eric, help her out. Perfect. Now, Claire, put your head on his shoulder. Smile! Now, a few more poses. This is for the history books.
— I’m… a model… — Claire mumbled, her brain too foggy to understand what was actually happening.
Chloe worked quickly, taking dozens of compromising photos of an undressed, semi-conscious Claire draped over the stripper. By the end, Claire had completely passed out on the sofa next to the equally shirtless Eric.
— Bingo. That’s the one. Thanks, Eric. You earned your bonus, — Chloe said, handing him more cash. — Get dressed. I’ll call you a cab.
They stepped out of the room, leaving Claire asleep. A second later, Audrey slipped inside. She looked at the sleeping, half-naked Claire, shook her head, and covered her with a warm duvet.
— So that’s your game, — Audrey whispered. — With friends like you, who needs enemies?
After seeing the strippers out, Chloe called Julian.
— I got everything I need. How about you?
— Yeah. Got the shots. Ilona was a pro.
The wedding morning arrived with a brutal hangover for the bride. Claire could barely open her eyes.
— Rise and shine, beautiful. You really went for it last night, — Chloe said, handing her a glass of water and two aspirin.
— Oh god… I only remember bits and pieces, — Claire groaned.
Chloe smirked. — Don’t worry. We’ll get you cleaned up.
An hour later, the girls had Claire in her dress, her hair pinned up and her makeup hiding the exhaustion.
— Look at you. You’re a vision, — Chloe said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.
— They’re here! The cars are here! — one of the bridesmaids yelled from the window.
Following the usual chaos of the pre-wedding photos, Mark arrived at the house.
— Okay, everyone. We have fifteen minutes before the limo leaves for the church, — he announced, heading toward the bathroom to wash up.
Seeing her opening, Chloe slipped in after him.
— Mark? Can I talk to you for a second?
— Is everything okay?
— I… I don’t even know how to start this.
— What’s going on, Chloe?
— Are you absolutely sure about Claire? About her being… “the one”?
— Of course I am. Why would you ask that?
— She’s my best friend, so this is hard. I don’t know if I should even tell you.
— Just say it.
— Look, I’ve known her forever. She has these… episodes. She gets wild. She’s the type who can go home with a total stranger without thinking twice.
— What are you talking about? That’s ridiculous.
— You don’t believe me? Look at these. These were taken last night. Your precious Claire and some guy she just met.
Chloe flipped through her phone, showing Mark the “scandalous” photos of Claire and Eric. To her absolute shock, Mark started laughing.
— I don’t see what’s so funny! This is the woman you’re about to marry! Think about it, Mark. Why would you do this to yourself?
Mark laughed even harder. Just then, there was a knock on the bathroom door, and Julian’s head popped in.
— Is it time?
— Yeah, come in, — Mark said. Chloe stared at them, her heart sinking.
— Now, you listen to me, — Mark said, putting an arm around the photographer’s shoulder. — It turns out Julian and I are old friends. We went to J-school together. He moved away, but we’ve stayed in touch the whole time.
Chloe’s face went pale.
— He knew who you were the moment you showed up in Spain. When you told him your pathetic little plan, he called me immediately. So, listen closely: you’re a piece of work. Get your things and get out. Go back to Europe, go to hell, I don’t care. Just don’t ever come back here.
— But… Claire…
— Claire? If you have a single shred of humanity left, you’ll leave quietly. We’ll tell her you had an emergency. I don’t want her wedding day ruined by the realization that her best friend is a snake. Get out. Now.
— Told you you’d lose the bet, — Julian said, ushering a stunned Chloe out the door.
Down on the street, Chloe hid in the shadow of a neighbor’s porch, watching the wedding procession pull away. She saw Claire through the window of the lead car, glowing with happiness.
For the first time in her life, Chloe had lost the bet. She wasn’t first anymore. And she had just lost the only person who actually cared about her.
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