Fine Fine Fine, page 4
Just one. It felt like a DM from a girl she knew in high school trying to get her into their MLM. Hey, boss babe! You have a few minutes to catch up?
“One chance?” he begged again.
A chance at what? Crack a rib instead of just breaking her heart? Cut her kidney out and sell it on the black market to buy Sloane an engagement ring? God, the thought of him marrying her—
“Go find Matty, Lo,” Sara said again.
“But—”
“I said no!” Hanna barked.
He swallowed, his hand reaching for her arm.
“Hanny—”
She slammed her glass down on the bar and stood, jerking her elbow from his grasp. She saw his mouth move, but she only heard her mother’s voice. Hanny! Hanny! Hanny!
“I think I should go,” she whispered to Sara, who frowned but understood. She patted Hanna’s shoulder and kissed her cheek.
“Call me tomorrow?”
She nodded, pushing through the crowd and heading for the elevator, her eyes stinging as she mashed on the lobby floor. The doors moved inward, but a hand caught them before they could close.
A hand attached to a bevy of tattoos.
Fuck, she thought, wiping at her eyes as Milo stepped onto the elevator. He took in the scene before him, seeing her at her most deranged for what, the third time in one day?
“Hey.”
“We have to stop meeting like this,” she deadpanned, sniffling with her arms cradled around her body.
“Logan find you?”
She nodded. “I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine.”
“You know, the third one really sold it,” Milo said, shoving his hands into his pockets.
Hanna laughed, not hard enough to shift the tide inside her, but enough to take the edge off.
“I really will be okay. I just needed a minute away from… all of it. Usually I only have one breakdown per twenty-four-hour period.”
Milo smiled. “Caught you on a hot streak.”
“Something like that.”
“I’m heading to the corner store to grab a few things, wanna come?”
The elevator hit the ground floor and opened to the quiet lobby. Maybe it was that she’d already put hard pants on and hadn’t gotten the return on her effort, or maybe it was the ridiculous way he smirked, but a walk didn’t sound terrible.
Hanna followed him around the corner, the late spring night perfectly warm now that the sun had set. She trailed wordlessly behind him as he plucked things off the shelves—gum, two energy drinks, Advil, and a travel bottle of Tums.
He held the bottle up and shook it. “None of us are twenty-one anymore, but these assholes still drink like it. The heartburn is killing me.”
Hanna smiled, her mind starting to quiet.
He asked the cashier for a pack of Marlboro Reds and a lighter, surprising her.
“What?”
“You don’t smell like a smoker,” she said.
He leaned toward her. “Paying attention, are we?”
She rolled her eyes.
“One of those, too,” Milo said, pointing at a bucket of flowers on the back of the counter. The cashier plucked a bright yellow sunflower out of the water, beads dropping across the counter as Milo handed it to her. “Consider it an apology on Logan’s behalf.”
Hanna stared at the flower, twirling it in her hands, the ache in her chest opening up once again.
She followed him from the store on autopilot, stroking the soft silk of the petals, the light perfume bringing her back to weekly deliveries on her mother’s bedside table.
Back at the hotel, they walked onto the elevator and Milo tapped the panel. Hanna breathed slowly as it lurched to life. She realized halfway down the hall of the seventeenth floor they were heading to his room. He swiped his key card, tossing his bag onto the bed and pulling off his shirt.
“It’s fucking hot here,” he muttered, pulling at the white tank top under his button-down to get some air. Hanna stayed perched at the doorway, rotating the flower in her hands as he fished through his bag for a t-shirt. He popped two Tums and held the bottle out to her, but she shook her head. She watched him peel the plastic off the pack of cigarettes and smack the carton against his palm, then tuck it into his back pocket.
“You good, Arizona?”
Hanna’s eyes snapped to his, her head pounding. “Yeah.”
“You wanna try again?”
She held up the flower, her fingertips brushing the soft fuzz on the stem.
“My mom loved sunflowers.”
Milo winced. “Ah, shit—”
“You didn’t know,” she said.
“I feel like I’m just a walking trigger for you,” he said, laughing.
“At least you’re charming about it.” She leaned against the doorframe, setting the flower on the desk by the door.
“I don’t bite,” he said and gestured to the rest of the room.
“That’s not what I heard,” she said, her eyes grazing over his. He glanced at her quickly and shoved his energy drinks into the mini fridge. A sinister grin tugged at his lips.
“I’ve had very few complaints, Hanna,” he mumbled.
Milo slid between her and the door, making no small show of tapping her hip as he opened it and paused in the doorway. She caught her breath, unprepared for the contact. He turned toward her and lowered his voice.
"What's the saying? Don't knock it 'til you try it?"
He pulled her forward into the hall and reached behind her to close the door before making his way back toward the elevator, leaving her standing in front of his hotel room. She shook her head.
Cocky bastard.
She followed him through the hallway and into the elevator, the weight of the day starting to push her down again. Or perhaps it was the several gallons of whiskey she’d imbibed since three in the afternoon.
Who could say?
Hanna leaned against the wall as her phone started buzzing.
DO NOT ANSWER
I just wish we could have a mature conversation :(
“Nice,” Hanna muttered, shoving the phone back in her pocket. It was the emoji that broke her, in the end, not the sentiment.
Her throat tightened and the heat of it stung her teeth. God, she was so over panicking. She was so over Logan. She was so over everyone.
“You good?” Milo asked, moving closer.
She was not good. She wasn’t even neutral. She was in a downward spiral, and Milo’s proximity was the final push. She leaned forward and brushed her fingertips against that ridiculous jawline, sending him back a foot.
“What are you—”
“You said not to knock it. I’m trying it,” she hissed, leaning forward again. His eyes searched hers, unsure what to make of the advance. She walked her fingers down his neck, tapping stubbled muscles as she slid to his t-shirt. She could see the war waging within him. He was trying to decide between the smart thing and the booze whispering, why the hell not.
“Hanna,” he said, a warning. She leaned closer, pushing up on her toes.
“Hmm?”
She lingered for a brief moment, giving him an out, and exhaled. The up-close heat of him mingled with his cologne—a much more intoxicating blend than she'd prepared for—and she wondered if she would smell like him in the morning.
God, it was a bad idea.
But Cami would be proud.
Hanna moved a millimeter closer, his mouth hovering just a sudden stop away from hers. Before she could close the distance, he twisted away, darting to his side of the elevator and rubbing the back of his neck.
Hanna laughed. “All bark, no bite, huh?”
He glared. “You’re drunk, Arizona.”
She shrugged. “And you’re not?”
“Not that drunk,” he said.
“Ouch,” Hanna whispered.
“That’s not what I meant,” he insisted as the elevator jolted toward the rooftop.
“Don’t worry about it,” she mumbled, staring at the panel of buttons as they flickered out, one by one, racing toward the bar. She drew in a stilted breath, her face flushing with that insufferable shame she couldn’t seem to shake around him. She was stupid for even suggesting it; they’d both regret it for longer than the list of reasons she kept tucked in the back of her mind. And it wouldn’t fix anything—
Before she could finish her thought, her back was pressed up against the ice-cold handrail attached, one tattooed arm pinned to the wall beside her head, the other pulling at her chin.
“You’re a fucking mess,” Milo whispered, his lips brushing her jaw.
“Assho—” she muttered, but he cut her off with a thumb on her lip. He leaned into her, their bodies pressed together as the elevator came to a halt.
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”
“Milo—”
He grinned, his eyes sparkling as the doors slid open and he moved away from her.
“Can dish it out…”
He disappeared into the crowd, leaving her to wander in a daze to Sara. She leaned over a table and tasted Matty’s martini.
“You’re back!”
Hanna pursed her lips, the buzzing in her ears wildly different from what she’d felt earlier. Logan eyed her from across the table, but she happily ignored him and rested her fingertips on her lips, pretending to listen to Matty and… Brendon? Brandon? Shit.
Before she could ask Sara, the tattooed hand that had just pinned her against the elevator wall dropped a glass of golden whiskey between them.
“The Society welcomes you,” Milo murmured before tucking himself into the other side of the table.
Sara didn’t say one word, but her eyebrows certainly said plenty.
FIVE
“Show me the blue one again!”
Sara’s voice did the high-pitched half-squeal thing it had always done when she was overly excited. Hanna set the phone on top of her dresser while Sara spread out over her couch in SoMa, a backdrop Hanna was intimately familiar with from their FaceTime dates.
She reached for the zipper at her back, sweating her ass off between the chiffon and taffeta gowns strewn across her bed. Plastic packages and packing slips adorned the floor as she shimmied out of Number Four.
“The light blue or the navy?” she clarified.
“The light—oh! You’re home!” Matty caught Sara’s attention off screen, her eyes lighting up as he tossed his keys on the counter.
Hanna kicked the pink floral A-line dress they’d firmly ruled out into the corner of her room and snatched the light blue silk from the back of an armchair. It was a slick fit that hugged her every curve, with a back on just that side of scandalous.
Sara and Matty chatted back and forth for a moment before a third voice rumbled over the call.
Milo.
Hanna sighed. It was Wednesday. Movie and wing night. She hadn’t spoken to him after that night at the hotel two weeks earlier, but from what she could tell, thanks to a totally normal amount of social media stalking for a woman in her thirties, he’d started seeing some girl named something cool like Chloe.
Okay, not like Chloe.
Her name was exactly Chloe, and Hanna knew which art school she went to, the name of her labradoodle, and that she worked at the same software company as Milo.
All very normal things to know about someone she had touched once in an elevator.
Sara ran with her phone through their loft and set it down on the counter, the rustling of take-out bags buzzing over the speaker.
“Okay. Light blue is on!” Hanna called, yanking the zipper up the final half inch. The ceiling fell away and Sara’s face popped back into view.
“Oh my god, yep. That’s it. That’s the one!” She darted through the kitchen and shoved her phone into Matty’s hands. “Babe, what do you think? Is it the bridesmaids’ dress? Tell Hanna how great she looks!”
Matty gripped the phone, half a wing sticking out of his mouth.
“Hi, Hanna! You look… very blue!”
Sara rolled her eyes and took the phone back.
“You look hot, dude. I’m almost tempted to put you in the pink one so you don’t show me up.”
Hanna laughed, picking at the neckline. “I don’t know about the back,” she mused, twisting to show Sara the drop. “It’s a lot.”
Sara shook her head, popping a wing in her mouth. “Nope. It’s perfect. Matty’s grandpa is officiating, it’s not like we have to impress the clergy.”
“But like, one wrong move on the dance floor and my tits are out, you know?” Hanna said, shimmying in her bedroom alone to demonstrate her fears.
Sara giggled and an off-screen voice called, “Then that’s for sure the dress.”
“See?” Sara said. “Milo approves. It’s definitely the one.”
Hanna groaned. What happened in the elevator was her own damn fault and nothing else, but she still couldn’t help thinking about it.
Usually late at night.
After a cocktail.
She sighed. “Milo’s approval is exactly what I’m afraid of.”
“Lemme see,” he said, his massive hand covering the screen before his face appeared. He’d let his stubble fill in over the last few weeks, which made him look even more like trouble. His eyebrows arched in confusion. “What are you talking about? You’re completely covered.”
“It’s the back that’s in question,” Sara said. “Turn around, Han.”
Hanna could have killed her.
She reluctantly twisted, flashing the open back as quickly as she could get away with.
“Oh,” Milo mumbled through a bite of food. “Your grandpa have a heart condition, Matty?”
Matty had definitely checked out of the conversation immediately, but responded, “I don’t think so?”
“Then I think it’s the one. It’s settled,” Milo declared. A red heat washed over Hanna’s skin and she hoped that any god that hadn't abandoned her over the last year was merciful enough to mute the color rendering across the screen.
“Amazing,” Sara squealed. She grabbed the phone back and dipped into the bedroom, flopping onto the bed. “Now that the dress is handled, we just need to decide on a hotel for the bachelorette.”
Hanna waved her hand. “I have it all planned. You just have to show up! Taylor and I are on top of things.”
She scooped the pile of rejected dresses off her bed, tossing them onto her favorite depression chair. Sara listed off all of the restaurants she wanted to make sure they hit while in Vegas, and Hanna was totally listening, and not at all thinking about the Greek god in the next room over.
She should have stuck to her guns and never given him a second glance.
It wasn’t that she expected anything after the elevator incident—she wasn’t even sure he was sober enough to remember it—but she thought she might get at least a social media connection out of the damn thing. Her number was right there in the bridal party group chat.
She sighed as the embarrassment crept back in.
“I’m talking about the wedding too much, I’m sorry,” Sara said.
“No! No, no, it’s not you,” Hanna assured her. She sat on the floor, stretching her back as she refocused her wandering mind. “I was just… it’s not important.”
Sara tilted her head and frowned.
Hanna could have sworn she was talking to Cami, thirty years younger. The thought pulled at another thread—would anyone remember her mother’s facial expressions enough to think the same thing about her?
“Your stuff is always important to me, Hanna. I feel like we haven’t talked about you in a while. Check in?”
Hanna inhaled slowly, chasing the burn of her previous thought. When Sara said ‘you,’ she could have meant ‘your mom’ or ‘Logan,’ but she had no idea she should have meant ‘Milo.’ All at once, Hanna realized how dramatic it all was.
Nothing happened.
“I mean. Sure. Logan stuff sucks, as per usual. He’s been calling relentlessly since he was here. I haven’t answered.”
“Of course.”
“Mom stuff sucks more.” Hanna bit her lip. “I feel a little like I’ll never take a full breath again. I think I’m just lonely,” she confessed. “I’m in this house all by myself. I work from home. I never leave. Phoenix always felt like home because my mom and Logan were here, but now I’m the only one left.”
Sara nodded, absorbing her words. That, right there, the silence, was why Hanna loved her best friend. She didn’t need to fill it with platitudes or weird speculation. She could let the grief be what it was.
“What if you came out here for Memorial Day weekend? Would that be helpful or hurtful?”
Hanna considered this. She’d visited them a few times over the years, but it had been a while since she’d been out that way. She could use the coastal exposure.
“A long weekend could be nice…”
“Or just, like, sublet your house for the summer and come be my friend!” Sara tried not to look too eager.
Hanna could smell the desperation, but perhaps that was better than the smell of rotting drywall.
“The whole summer!” Hanna gasped.
“What? Like it’s that crazy? We could get so much wedding planning done!”
Hanna twisted the other direction, her lower back popping as her eyes fell on the bronze sunflower bookend resting at the end of her shelf. Logan had given it to her mother for Christmas one year.
She hated that it was hers, but, in that moment, the sight of it felt like a push she needed.
“Okay.”
“What?” Sara asked, her eyes wide. She’d posed the question a dozen times over the years. It was as common as asking about the weather or work.
“Okay,” Hanna mumbled, the relief in her shoulders foreign. “I’ll do it.”
“Ohmyfuckinggod,” Sara yelled.
“Are you good?” Matty burst into the bedroom, appearing over Sara’s shoulders.
“Can I tell him?”
Hanna nodded, the light in her eyes irresistible.
“Hanna is going to stay with us for the summer.”
Matty snatched the phone from his fiancée. “Don’t play with me, Hanna.”
