Page 30 of Promise Me Nothing
I lift a shoulder. “Sorry. I really do have plans. Have a nice day with your sister.”
His smile remains, though I can tell he’s legitimately confused, trying to figure out what just happened. My guess is that he doesn’t get turned down very often.
“Bye, Pier Guy,” I add, then I walk past him and head down the street and towards Paige’s car, not looking back even though I really want to.
When I finally get there, I find her sitting in the driver’s seat, her eyes glued to her phone.
“Sorry it took so long,” I say, opening the passenger door and climbing in to her periwinkle blue Camaro.
Paige glances at me. “Honey, I was so focused on this game I didn’t even realize where I was.”
We both break into laughter, allowing me to push away how talking with Pier Guy made me feel.
As Paige pulls away from the curb and we roll down Hermosa Ave, I glance towards Mary’s. Pier Guy is still standing outside, his sister sitting next to him.
They’re laughing, but I see his head come up and look in my direction.
I look away quickly and we continue down the road.
I thought for a second that I’d met a guy who might be worth the time to talk to. Someone who might be interested in chatting with me, too, and not just for the possibility to get into my pants later.
But he turned out to be just like most of the guys I’ve met before. Flirtatious and focused just on what he can get.
And right now, someone like that just isn’t for me.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Hannah
“No one will even notice.”
Lucas’ words have me wanting to roll my eyes. But I don’t. Because that would probably be rude.
We pulled up to the Hermosa Beach Yacht Club earlier, and when I slid out of Lucas’ car – a BMW instead of the truck, because apparently it’s normal for people to have multiple cars – I swear it was like something out of a James Bond movie. Expensive cars. Women in sexy dresses and men in suits. Valet parking.
And there was a damn red carpet leading inside. Though, thankfully, no photographers. Not that they’d want to catch me on film as I totter into the building on a pair of slightly-too-small heels. But based on the way Paige was going on about Lucas, they might want to get a picture of him for the gossip pages of something.
Paige gave me this really beautiful dress to wear, and I really do love it. It’s a deep green with lace sleeves and an open back. The problem is that Paige is at least six inches shorter than I am. At Lucas’ house, while I was getting ready, I’d worried the dress was too short, so I put on a pair of nylons that Paige had given mejust in case.
But of course, because I’mfucking stretch Armstrongand have legs a mile long,I tore a hole in them as I was getting out of Lucas’ fancy ass car. A long stretch down the back of my left leg.
Even though I’m not typically one to worry about how I look, I know that Lucas matters here, and the last thing I want is for the cogs of the Hermosa Beach gossip machine to start talking about his trashy sister.
I’d pushed back my shoulders and held my head high, determined not to allow myself to feel like I didn’t belong. Though I didn’t entirely appreciate the looks I was getting from a few of the men who were old enough to be my dad.
It wasn’t until we were through the front doors that I tugged Lucas to the side and had a meltdown about the tear.
“Of course people will notice,” I hiss at Lucas. Then I feel bad for being snippy. But what does he expect? I come from nothing and now I’m here at this black tie event and I feel like a fucking mess. I sigh and wring my hands together. “I’m gonna go take them off in the bathroom.”
Lucas steps forward and rests his hands on each of my biceps. “Hannah,” he says, his voice quiet and calm. “Take a deep breath.”
I do. A really deep one. And then I hold it, let it out slowly.
“Good. Now, don’t freak out about what anyone here thinks about you. It doesn’t matter if they like your dress or think you look like trash because of a tear in your leggings.”
“Nylons.”
“Same thing.”
