Keat?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
He nods, and there is an understanding between us that I’m thanking him for much more than a donut, or suggesting I do some work for the town.
I’m thanking him for believing in me, even when I don’t think he is.
14
Ryan
Dark black satin hugs my body, and I know I will look out of place.
In the room full of sundresses and summer rompers, I’ll stick out like a sore thumb. But I haven’t had a night out in almost a month, and when you hail from the Big Apple, swanky lounges and cool SoHo bars are practically a multiple-days-a-week occurrence.
“Holy shit, you should be on the sparkly pink Victoria’s Secret runway.” Penelope wolf whistles as I walk into Presley’s bedroom.
She and my bestie are getting ready for the town hall dance, lining the rims of their eyes with black kohl pencil and fluffing up their hair. In typical Fawn Hill fashion, the dance starts at five p.m. and goes until eight, so that some of the kids over the age of seven can attend with their parents. It’s so out of my wheelhouse that I actually laughed at the flyer Presley showed me a week ago. This town and its adorable traditions.
I do a twirl, showing off for them. “I am going to stand out like a sore thumb, but I don’t care.”
Honestly, I’ve never cared much what people thought about my appearance. I wear what I want, when I want, style my hair against the trend and am never far from my prized possession leather jacket. Compared to Penelope, in her floating yellow maxi dress, and Presley, in an olive green romper, I look like I’m ready for a gothic slumber party. But I feel hot as fuck, and that’s all I care about.
“Oh, stop. Everyone in the place will be so fucking jealous of you, they won’t have time to sneer.” Penelope waves me off.
“There is going to be booze at this thing, right?” I cross my fingers, holding them up for the ladies to see.
Presley shakes her head. “No, unfortunately. Since it’s at town hall, there is technically no alcohol consumption allowed on premises. However, it doesn’t mean we aren’t pre-gaming in the parking lot or sneaking water bottles full of alcohol in our purses.”
“Very high school prom. I love it,” I say, nodding with approval.
Penelope shrugs, pulling her boobs up a little higher in her bra. “We’re leaving the kids at my mother’s, so we have to get a little wild and crazy on our night off. Plus, we all haven’t been out together in ages.”
“Let’s get started early.” The twinkle in Presley’s eye tells me she’s ready for a night out, too.
She goes to her dresser, where I see a bottle of grapefruit vodka and three shot glasses sitting.
“Grapefruit vodka? Yuck, Pres. They really have turned you into Little Miss Huckleberry out here.” My body shudders just thinking about the sour liquor I’m about to swallow.
Her eyebrows knit together. “Don’t call me that. It’s good, you haven’t even tried it.”
I may have struck a nerve, so I nod and walk toward her, accepting my shot glass. Penelope joins us, her beautiful blond locks piled into a girl-next-door ponytail that looks both chic and adorable. The woman is a knockout and has a better body than me after three kids.
“To Ryan. We’re so glad you’re hanging out in the sticks for a while,” Penelope toasts sarcastically, and I give her a wry smile before knocking my shot back.
To my surprise, the taste isn’t half as terrible as I thought it would be.
“See? It’s good.” Presley sticks her tongue out at me.
“All right, we better get outside. The boys and Lily will be here soon.”
Lily was planning on getting ready with us, but then called last minute to say she’d do her makeup and hair at home since Molly was cluster-feeding at the moment. Penelope and Presley had nodded into the phone sagely, all understanding. I had no idea what the fuck a cluster-feed was, so I just went along with it.
The idea of walking to city hall from here, behind all the Nash men and their wives, was kind of intimidating. I was the odd girl out on their date night, and in my spiky heels, I felt even more so.
I hang back to go down the stairs last, with my two friends nearly bouncing out the door, waiting for their husbands to arrive. The boys all headed to Bowen’s for pre-dance beers and bullshit,