Chapter 13
Hannah
Hey hot date.
Tonight’s the night, and I’m filled with more nerves than excitement.
Ellie is picking me up in an hour, and I still have no idea what to wear.
I want to look good, but I don’t want it to be overly obvious that I’ve tried.
I don’t even know if my sexy biker is going to be there, but I painfully hope he is.
At least I already know I have tomorrow off.
I’m thankful for that, because it means I can stay out as late as I want.
This past week, I’ve re-lived our kiss in my mind over and over, no matter how hard I’ve tried not to.
I can’t help it. I have to believe that a man who kissed me like that will show up to do it again.
I’ve thought about every possible outcome of running into him, and every one leaves me nervous yet hopeful.
My phone rings, snapping me out of my thoughts. I glance down and see it’s Ellie.
“Hey, hot date. What’s up?” I answer.
“I’m almost to your house, and I need you to unlock the door,” she says, her voice full of mischief.
“Almost to my house? I thought you were coming at eight?”
“Yeah, and risk the chance of you not having an outfit picked by the time I get there? I don’t think so.” She scoffs into the receiver. “Plus, this is the first time we get to go out to a bar—unchaperoned—in like a hundred years. Now come open the door.”
Damn her. It’s like she actually knows me or something.
I hang up and head downstairs to open the door. Ellie takes one look at me, head to toe, settling on my eyes.
“Oh, look, you’re not dressed. What a shock,” she says condescendingly. “Come on, let’s go see all your options. We are going to make sure you blow this guy’s mind.” She smirks over her shoulder and winks. “Maybe not only his mind.”
“Ha-ha,” I say flatly. “He has to actually show up first for any mind, or other kind, of blowing to happen.”
Ellie simply grins and leads the way upstairs to my bedroom. She looks incredible tonight: cowboy boots, cut-off jeans, and a plaid button-down tied above her belly button. Her light brown hair is parted down the center and braided into two neat plaits that fall just below her shoulders.
It’s giving cowgirl. Very fitting for Rawhide.
She stops at the doorway to my room and freezes before the clothing bomb that has gone off. I may have pulled out every piece of clothing I own, decided it wasn’t good enough, and tossed it aside.
Ellie groans as she takes in the explosion of clothing. “Girl, I knew it would be bad, but this? This is bad.”
She lets out a theatrical sigh and points a commanding finger toward the bathroom. “Okay, you go start your makeup, and let me sort through all of this. I’ll pick you an outfit. You just focus on your face.”
Before I can even protest, she’s already shooing me toward the door. “Go on. Move your ass,” she says, swatting my butt as I pass.
I roll my eyes but head for the mirror. I know better than to argue when Ellie’s in “stylist” mode. It’s easier just to let her do her thing and hope she doesn’t pick something that requires me to hold my breath all night.
At the sink, I start my ritual. Wash, exfoliate, hydrate, and primer to finish. Then, I think about the look I want tonight. Hot, but like... rugged hot.
I go a little heavier with the eyeliner, even break out the false lashes. Go big or go home, right?
Halfway through my makeup, I catch Ellie in the mirror, leaning on the doorway, smirking like she’s proud of herself. Raising her eyebrows, she jerks her head for me to follow.
Setting my blush brush down, I step back into my room—only to see she’s not only picked an outfit but also hung up every other piece of clothing.
“Ellie, you didn’t have to pick all of that up. It was a disaster. I was gonna get to it later.”
“Yeah, okay. And have Hot Biker Boy see how neurotic you are? No way. If and when you invite him into your bedroom tonight, which you should, it needs to look like you’re sane and put together.
Not like a hoarder who’s never heard of a hanger.
Plus, cleaning helped me go through everything piece by piece to find the perfect outfit. ” She gestures proudly to the bed.
Two pieces of clothing wait for me.
At first, I want to tell her no. I haven’t worn that skirt or top in forever. When I was with my ex, I wasn’t allowed to wear clothes like that. Because what would people think?
Ugh. I can hear his voice in my head, and it makes me shudder.
Ellie notices the change in me immediately.
Her shoulders soften as she steps closer.
“Hey. He’s not around anymore. It’s time you get back to who you were before him.
The Hannah I know and love. That Hannah adored this black pleather skirt and cropped t-shirt, and she didn’t care what anyone thought.
Not only that, it looks killer on you. You have to wear it. No arguments.”
I smile shyly at her. She’s right—it’s just hard. When you spend so long doing what someone else wants, you forget you even have your own preferences. My chest aches when I realize how many of mine I’d buried.
I glance at the boots she’s paired with it. My black leather ones with the double X straps and studs. Bold. Strong.
“Ellie, am I fucking crazy for doing this?” I ask her, my voice thick with doubt.
My amazing and beautiful bestie looks at me, cocking her head to the side. “Which part of it? Do I think you’re crazy for wanting to look hot to go out to see a guy that caught your eye? No, I don’t, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Feeling vulnerable, I drop my gaze from hers. “How stupid is this, though? To even be entertaining a man after learning the hard way, time and time again, how this ends.”
I sink onto the edge of my bed, resting my hands in my lap. “Why even put myself through it? Maybe we should stick to a girls’ night.”
When I finally look back up, the soft, knowing expression on Ellie’s face makes my chest ache.
“Hannah... don’t let insecure men steal your chance of finding a good one.”
I huff out a ragged sigh. “But letting someone in feels a lot like inviting them to hurt me. I’m tired of the crash and burn, Ellie. I’m tired of being the only one left to pick up the pieces and glue myself back together.” I let out a small, self-deprecating laugh. “I’m done kissing frogs.”
“Hey, even Tiana found her Prince—and he was a frog first.” She wiggles her eyebrows playfully, the mischief back in her eyes.
The mattress compresses as she sits beside me, her hand a warm, steady weight on my shoulder. It’s the kind of grounding presence I appreciate when my head starts spinning out of control.
I look over at the outfit she’s picked for me, draped across the bed.
It’s a reminder of my old life, and exactly the kind of thing I would’ve talked myself out of wearing.
She couldn’t have picked anything better.
I miss who I was before my ex, and while a piece of clothing can’t fix all my problems, it’s a damn good start.
I’m forever thankful for her and her unwavering friendship. She knows me well enough to see exactly when I need a push to stop hiding and start living.
Fuck it. I’m wearing it. Now we’ve gone from Hannah Montana to Sandra Dee in a single week.
“Well,” I say, a spark of my old self breaking through, “who am I to say no to an outfit this good?”
Ellie squeals and bolts out of the room.
Taking full advantage of my moment alone, I slip into the chosen skirt and top.
I wander back into the bathroom, fairly certain of where Elli’s gone. Sure enough, a hard seltzer slides across the counter toward me just as I lift my blush brush.
Called it.
“Drink up, bitch. The Lyft’s already ordered,” Ellie sings, cracking open her own. She pulls up Spotify on her phone. “I have a playlist just for tonight.”
Seconds later, Little Girl Gone by Chinchilla fills the bathroom. The bass kicks, my mood lifts, and before I know it, we’re singing and dancing in front of the mirror while I finish my makeup.
It’s ridiculous. And perfect.
For years, nights like this didn’t exist for me. This is our first bar outing together
. We deserve to act stupid and happy.
The breakup with Collin and me wasn’t what anyone would call mutual. No. He would have kept me under his thumb until he was old and gray if it were up to him.
I had finally had enough one day after he accused me of cheating when I came home late from the office. Never mind that there had been traffic due to an accident.
No, he didn’t believe it. Since his phone's Maps app didn’t show any accidents or slowdowns, I was obviously hiding a secret lover. That had been it for me.
I left and never looked back. I only packed what I could fit into my small car and left him with everything else. He can have it all; he can’t have me.
I check my face, touching up my mocha-tinted matte lip stain. I don’t know if it’s the buzz from the alcohol, Ellie hyping me up, or the thought of maybe seeing my hot biker again—but I like what I see.
Smoky eyes with bold cat eyeliner and medium-length lashes. Soft, messy curls down my back. The skirt hugs my hips, the cropped white tee shows just enough, and leather boots make me feel badass.
Sandra Dee, eat your heart out.
Turning towards my full-length mirror on the wall, I check myself from all angles. If Sarge doesn’t show up tonight, that’s on him because someone is going to appreciate this masterpiece I’ve created.