“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.
