Page 36 of Living for Truth
Hannah shifts uncomfortably, her thigh inching closer to mine. “Well, we’re still getting to know each other, and I didn't want you to feel obligated to get me a gift or anything.”
Okay, that makes sense. Still. “Your boyfriend should know your birthday.”
“I know,” she says sheepishly. “Which is why if you can’t make it tomorrow, I understand. My mom also wanted to know if Aly was coming, too.”
I think Aly meeting Hannah alone would be fine. But I’m not subjecting Aly to the judgmental stare of Shelly Layton until Hannah and I are serious for real.
“Aly can go to my parents’ house. I think it’d be better if it was just me for tomorrow.”
“I agree. I don’t want my mom to scrutinize and judge Aly just for existing. Aly deserves better than that.” Hannah pulls out her phone and types a text to her mom. “Alright. We’re meeting at Hughes in Farmington at seven. Is that okay?”
“I’ll be there at six-forty-five,” I tease and that finally pulls a smile from her.
“I believe you. Please don’t feel obligated to get me a present.”
Too late. I already know what I’m going to give her, and she’s going to love it.
“Oh boy,” she sighs. “You’re going to anyway, aren’t you?”
I nod, and she scowls at me, but it holds no heat. All it does is make me think how adorable she is. I want to pull her into my lap and tickle her to make her giggle. I want to give her kisses all over her angelic face until she’s begging me to stop.
Some day, I won’t have to hold myself back. Hopefully.
She leaves after a few more minutes, and it’s like the room is a little dimmer without her sunshine.
Chapter 16
Hannah
Iwoke up this morning to a “Happy Birthday” banner and my favorite breakfast of baked french toast and perfectly crisp bacon smothered in vanilla syrup. Breakfast was silent and awkward with Jake filling most of the silence with talk of his end-of-school-year projects.
When I got to work, Sage had my favorite cheese pretzel and dirty chai latte from the German bakery a few blocks over. She gifted them to me along with a gift card for a size-inclusive lingerie store.
“Ya know, in case you need to buy something sexy for a date with Morgan,” she explained with the most deceptively innocent expression when I looked at her confused.
Considering I haven’t bought nor worn regular underwear in almost a decade, I wouldn’t even know where to begin with lingerie. I’m fine in my church issued garments because they’re familiar and easier than tryingto buy new underwear. I know I’ll need to get normal underwear eventually, though.
After saying thank you, I started my day.
Now I’m shelving books with the gift card burning a hole inside my purse. My mind floats to images of me buying a bold red set, and Morgan slowly peeling away my clothes to reveal the delicate lace underneath.
What would he think of the lingerie? Would he like my body in the lace? Or would he want to tear it away and just get down to business?
Something tells me he’d want to go slow. He’d want to take his time and—
Why am I thinking about this?
I look around to see I’m alone, thank goodness. I wipe my hands on my clothes to dry the clamminess, willing the heat in my cheeks to cool down.
When I get home, I change out of my sensible black work pants and plain white collared shirt with a brown sweater vest and into a dress I bought as a birthday gift to myself. Blue with a square neckline, fluttery sleeves, and hitting just above my knees.
As I examine myself in the mirror, my mind automatically wonders what Morgan is going to think.
As if he’s been summoned, he texts me.
Morgan:What colors are you wearing?
Hannah:Um, blue?
