6. Hadley
six
Hadley
“ O kay, spill the tea. What is going on with you and Hollander?” Klaire and I are barely inside my bedroom when she slams the door and quizzes me.
“I don’t know.” I sit on the edge of the bed, still trying to make sense of what just happened with Hollander in the Speakeasy hallway.
I loved it yet hated every minute of it.
The fact that Hollander was so turned on by me was empowering—only to be ruined by the realization that it was my new look that had him all over me.
“Now I know you’re lying to me.” Klaire sits on the bed next to me and pushes my hair over my shoulder. “I think you know exactly what is going on with Hollander.”
The genuine kindness in Klaire’s voice breaks me, and I end up telling her everything about Hollander, from our first shift together to our personal conversations, to him calling me Baby Girl and me calling him Vanilla Thunder, to him asking me to be his date for his friends’ wedding, to how I really look.
“So, that’s why I’m so upset—Hollander would never fall for the real me—this is all fake.
” I lift my hand to my hair and face, then down to my body.
“First of all, nothing about you is fake. You’re hardly wearing any makeup, and smooth hair doesn’t make someone beautiful. And your body is absolutely gorgeous. I’ll admit, when I first saw you, I was jealous that you were going to be Matthew’s girlfriend, even if it was fake.”
“But you don’t know how disappointed Hollander will be when he sees the real me, in baggy clothes, with wild hair and no makeup—and don’t forget the glasses.” I can feel my anxiety spiraling just thinking about his reaction.
“Who hurt you?” Klaire takes my hands in hers, searching my eyes. “Who made you so insecure that you would ever doubt your beauty?” Klaire’s question catches me off guard.
My grandmother raised me after my parents died when I was ten.
My grandfather had died years before I was born.
As I got older and talked about going out with friends or even dating, my grandmother would give me a look that made me feel self-conscious.
She even picked out my clothes, telling me that tighter clothes were unflattering for my figure.
She was the one who encouraged me to stay home and play games on my computer, saying I was better off staying home than risking having my heart broken by a boy who wouldn’t see past my full figure and frizzy hair.
Because of her passive-aggressive behavior, I never had friends or went on dates.
I can’t even ask her why she said all those awful things, since she passed away three years ago.
“My grandmother,” I choke out, letting the tears fall freely. “She died a few years ago.”
“Oh, Hadley, I’m so sorry, but you have to live your life now—stop hiding and go after what you want.” Her words rip through me, making me want to lash out at her and make her hurt as much as I do.
“What about you?” I rip my hands out of hers and stand up.
“Why are you hiding your relationship with the Senator? Why aren’t you going after what you want?
” When I see the sadness in her eyes, I hate myself for what I said to her and try to take it back.
“I’m sorry, Klaire. I didn’t mean that. Your situation with the Senator is way different than mine with Hollander. ”
“Actually, it’s not. And you’re right.” She stands and walks to the bathroom door. “I need to go after what I want and stop hiding.”
“But what about the re-election?”
“It’s okay, Hadley. If Matthew’s supporters won’t accept our relationship, that’s on them. But if Matthew wants to keep me hidden, then that’s on me. I need to stop being his dirty little secret one way or another.”
“Klaire, that’s not what I meant.” I rush to her side, needing to explain that our situations are completely different.
“Don’t worry about me.” She gives me a half smile, takes my arm, and pulls me into the bathroom. “Take a long bubble bath and think about what you want. I plan to do the same.” She gives me a little shove, then closes the door behind me.
I do what she tells me to do, contemplating my future until the hot water turns ice cold.