Page 41 of Love Out Loud

“And Jessica walked in, they both invited themselves, so you asked Noah, too,” he finishes for me.

“That’s pretty much how it went, yes.” I screw up my face in apology. “I’m sorry. I was caught off guard.”

Lennon reaches a big hand over to squeeze my knee reassuringly. “It’s not a problem, Songbird. It’ll be fun.”

“Will it?” I grumble.

He chuckles. “It will. But I hope you brought something to wear to go out dancing.”

I slowly turn to face him. “What does that mean?”

He doesn’t tell me, though. He just smirks to himself as he watches the road pass us by.

***

“What the fuck do people wear to go dancing?” I prop my phone against the wall on the dresser in my bedroom so Hannah can see the options I’ve lined up on my bed. I frown at all of them as she hums.

“Hello to you, too. How’s it going? How’s Silas?”

I dip my chin, giving her an exasperated look. “Silas is the one who got me into this mess in the first place. We are not fans of Silas today.” I hear Lennon’s shower turn on and figure I have about fifteen minutes before he comes out and hears everything I’m saying, so I need her to get down to business.

“There is definitely more to that story, but I can see you’re distressed. Show me what we’re working with.” She’s trying very hard not to laugh.

“I’m too old to go out dancing,” I mumble, holding up a black T-shirt and flowery maxi skirt.

“You’re only as old as you feel. That’s not bad, but maybe a little casual. What else?”

I hold up denim shorts and a black tank top.

She scrunches her nose. “Do you have anything that isn’t black?”

“Don’t people wear black to dance clubs?” I ask.

“Old people, maybe,” she jokes. “I’m kidding! Black doesn’t really suit you, princess. What about that skirt over there?” She points behind me to where a denim miniskirt is draped over the armchair in the corner.

“That wasn’t one of the options,” I tell her.

“Yeah, well, your options all suck. Hold it up. Do you have a tank top?”

“Aside from the black one?” I hold the skirt in front of my waist and look around to the clothes tossed onto the bed. “I have this one, but it’s meant to be an undershirt.”

“That’s how you know it’s perfect for a dance club.” Hannah bounces her eyebrows up and down.

“I swear to god, if you’re fucking with me—”

“I’m not!” She laughs. “Strappy heels?”

“Black ones.” I tick up an eyebrow in the direction of the phone.

She hums, tilting her head. “Maybe the black top, then. With a necklace.”

I sigh, rummaging through my suitcase to find my bag of accessories. “Gold or silver?”

“With your skin tone? Gold, definitely. Put it on and let me see.”

By the time I’ve gotten Hannah’s stamp of approval on my outfit and given her the basic rundown of how I found myself in this mess of an evening while doing my makeup, I can hear Lennon banging drawers in his room. She tells me to text her later and hangs up. I give myself a once-over in the full-length mirror on the door and send up a quick prayer that Lennon doesn’t get all weird about this skirt like he did the sundress the other day. That would only be awkward, and I don’t know how much more awkwardness I can take today.

The good news is that when Lennon’s hazel eyes do a once-over on my outfit, he doesn’t say much.