Zoe’s Hot Girl Summer Ch. 02 by sickkophantic..,

All characters in this story are 18+, including those in high school or graduating.

CHAPTER 2. The Break Up

Zoe has break up slash car sex.

Zoe scans the lunch crowd, her gaze landing on the bright red Jansport and tall silhouette she’d know anywhere.

“Sorry!” She apologizes, shuffling through throngs of hungry classmates. She grabs a fistful of the red canvas and yanks hard.

“What the fuck–? Oh, hey. What’s up?”

Grant gives the teammates he was chatting with a wave and that nod thing guys do. “I think you dislocated my shoulder,” he starts adjusting his backpack and rubbing his shoulder dramatically but Zoe just grabs his wrist, tugging him along. “Geez, what’s the rush? You know the food’s not going anywhere, right?”

“I need to talk to you.” Zoe says in a hushed voice. “Can we eat in the choir room?”

Grant’s eyes narrow with confusion, but he can’t hide his intrigue. “Okay, yeah.”

After getting some food, the two friends sit on the floor of an empty practice room tucked in the back of the band hallway. It’s small with floor-to-ceiling cinder block walls and scuffed linoleum floors. They hadn’t bothered to drag any chairs in, so Grant sprawled across the ground using his backpack as a headrest, legs crossed at the ankle.

He unceremoniously rips open a bag of pretzels and unwraps his sandwich, digging in. He looks at Zoe and raises his eyebrows, expectantly.

“Alright, I really needed to talk to someone about this,” Zoe says conspiratorially. “But Grant. Seriously. You can’t tell anybody. And I mean it.”

“Shit, okay. Are you pregnant?”

Zoe coughs. “What–?”

“Well…are you?”

“No!”

“Okay, geez!” He laughs, throwing up a hand in surrender. “I mean, good. I’m way too hot and young to be the fun uncle yet.”

And just like that, Zoe relaxes a bit. She rolls her eyes. “Fuck off.”

Grant laughs through a mouthful of food. “Okay, but, what were you gonna say?”

Right.

“I think I cheated on Sam.”

Grant sits up, eyes wide. “No shit. With who?”

Zoe picks at her nails – a nervous habit she’d broken years ago, but which sometimes resurfaces when she’s anxious.

“Dude…with who?”

“It’s ‘with whom.'” Zoe deflects, obnoxiously.

“Just tell me.”

“You can’t be mad.”

At this point, Grant’s staring at her so seriously that Zoe can’t tell if he’s joking or not. She’s never seen him serious for longer than like, ten minutes. And even then, it was when his grandmother died. And he still cracked a lame joke moments later, to ease the tension.

“Sam,” she answers, her voice small.

“Huh?” Grant leans forward, not having heard her. “Who?”

“Sam!” She covers her face with her hands. “Sam, your Sam.”

Silence.

And then–Grant throws his head back and laughs.

Zoe’s head shoots up. He’s really laughing at her. She crumples up her plastic water bottle and lobs it at his head.

“What?” he chuckles. “Holy shit. Look, I know he’s at school. So either you’re joking or you were like, an e-girl. For my brother. That shit’s funny.”

“You’re such an ass.”

“Did it feel good when he sent you all those 1s and 0s?”

“Shut up,” Zoe whines. “First of all, we didn’t sext. We had phone sex.” Grant’s eyes widen. “And secondly, this is serious, okay? I feel guilty. I still basically cheated.”

“‘Basically cheated.’ Okay wait. Walk me through what happened.”

So, she tells him. The whole thing. Except for the part where she was wearing his hoodie and kind of got off smelling his cologne. And the part where she very very briefly thought about him.

“You slut,” Grant teases. “Tart. Wench. Harlot. Where’s your scarlet letter? You know, I always knew us McCall boys were irresistible but this is really–”

“Granttttt,” Zoe slumps against the wall. “What do I do? Tell me what to do.”

“Okay, okay.” He chews thoughtfully. “Well, first off. I hate to break it to you…but you do know the chances of my brother actually wanting to date you are, like, pretty low. Right?”

She did know. He was cool and older and in college out of state. It still sucked to hear, though. “Yeah.”

“Well, then. I don’t know, it’s your senior year,” Grant shrugs. “I say, break up with Boyfriend Sam and then just chill. You guys literally never see each other and you’re gonna be off to college soon anyway. And if you’re thinking about other guys, no shade, but if you are…don’t lead him on, you know?”

“So…tell him what happened?”

“I think I would.”

Screw Grant and his good advice.

Zoe sighs. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Cool,” Like nothing even happened, Grant pulls out his phone and shrugs. “And if you wind up needing a prom date, I’ll just take you.”

–

Zoe dropped a Friday night shift for this. She’s trying not to think about all the tips she’s losing out on from the weekend rush. She’d almost wanted to just shoot Sam a text – “hey, lol! let’s break up” – but she knew it’d be a giant dick move.

So now, here she is.

Waiting outside the boy’s locker room, in a high school she doesn’t even go to, to see her boyfriend for the first time in weeks – all just to tell him hasta la vista. You’d think she’d have a plan, a script. But she stupidly decided to just wing it. He’s gonna hate her anyway, right?

The door to the locker room swings open, startling her, and Sam emerges. He looks good. Fuck. This is going to suck.

Sam’s fit in the way soccer and cross country guys are. At 5’9″ he’s on the taller side, especially considering he’s Chinese – not that Zoe’s ever cared all that much about height. It was how funny and friendly and effortlessly flirty he was that had reeled her in.

“Hey you,” Sam smiles down at her, looking a little confused but pleased. His hair’s still wet and a little spiky, and he has that vague gym / soap / deodorant smell that plagues student athletes. “Shit, did I miss–?”

He fumbles with his jacket pocket for his phone, but Zoe waves it off.

“I texted but also figured you probably wouldn’t see it,” she explains. “Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

She keeps getting distracted by the locker room door swinging open, guys filtering out seemingly every ten seconds. A few pat Sam on the shoulder or back. Some whistle or nudge him suggestively when they see Zoe, but Sam just shakes his head and chuckles good-naturedly.

They walk out of the building and toward his truck – a Ford F100 from sometime in the 70s. Sam worked on it himself one summer and he taught Zoe how to change its oil. Zoe’s friends used to tease her for being into a “car guy” but she didn’t care. She honestly thought it was really hot how much he knew – plus, seeing him all greasy was an unexpected turn on.

She tries not to think about all the late night drives and hookups they’ve had in the truck. Or that one time she successfully managed to give him road head.

“Hey, it’s our song,” Sam joked, as Zoe turned the radio dial and filled his truck with loud, staticy noise.

She smiled at his lame joke and swooned when he reached over and put his hand on her thigh. She normally hated the trope of guys who flirt behind the wheel – she’s a very 10 and 2 type of driver. But Sam didn’t do stupid things. He always used his turn signals and didn’t turn on red unless it was completely safe, even if there was some asshole behind him. He was a good driver.