Finally Hardin’s car pulls into the lot, and I step outside into the chilling wind. It is warmer today than it has been, the bright sun adding a small amount of warmth, but not enough. “Sorry for being late, I fell asleep,” he tells me as I climb into the warm car.
“It’s okay,” I assure him and stare out the window.
I’m slightly nervous about New Year’s Eve tonight and don’t want to add fighting with Hardin to my list of stressors today. We haven’t decided what we are actually doing yet, which drives me insane—I want to know the details and have the entire night planned.
I’ve been debating whether or not to reply to the text messages that Steph sent me a couple days ago. Part of me really wants to see her, to show her and everyone that they did not break me—though they humiliated me, yes—and that I’m stronger than they think. That being said, the other half of me thinks it will be incredibly awkward to see Hardin’s friends. I know they’ll probably think I’m an idiot for being with him again.
I won’t know how to act around them, and honestly I’m afraid that everything will be different when Hardin and I are not in our own small bubble. What if he ignores me the entire time, or what if Molly’s there? My blood boils at the thought.
“Where do you want to go?” he asks.
I had earlier mentioned that I needed something to wear tonight, so I say, “The mall is fine. We need to decide where we’re going so I know what to get.”
“Do you really want to hang out with everyone, or just go out, the two of us? I’m still rooting for staying in.”
“I don’t want to stay in, we stay in all the time.” I smile. I love staying in with Hardin, but he used to be out all the time, and sometimes I worry if I keep him in the house too much, he’ll get bored with me.
When we arrive at the mall, Hardin drops me off at the entrance to Macy’s and I hurry inside. By the time he joins me, I already have three dresses draped over my arms.
“What is that?” Hardin scrunches his nose at the canary-yellow dress on top. “That color is hideous,” he says.
“You find every color hideous, apart from black, of course.”
He shrugs at my truthful statement and runs his finger along the fabric of the gold dress underneath. “I like this one,” he says.
“Really? That was the one I was unsure about. I don’t want to stand out, you know?”
He arches his brow. “And you wouldn’t be standing out in yellow?”
He has a point. I place the yellow dress back on the rack and hold up a white strapless, then ask, “What about this one?”
“You should try them on,” he suggests with a cheeky smile.
“Pervert,” I tease.
“Always.” He smirks and follows me to the dressing room.
“You are not coming in here,” I scold him and close the door to the stall, leaving just enough room to pop my head out.
He pouts before taking a seat on the black leather couch outside the dressing room. “I want to see each one,” he calls when I close the door the rest of the way.
“Be quiet.”
I hear him chuckle, and I want to open the door just to see his smile, but I decide against it. I put the white strapless dress on first and struggle to zip it up the back: tight. Too tight and short, way too short. Finally I get the thin fabric to zip, and I tug at the bottom of the dress before opening the door to the dressing room.
“Hardin?” I almost whisper.
“Holy shit.” He practically gasps when he turns the corner and takes in the sight of me in the barely-there dress.
“It’s short.” I flush.
“Yeah, you aren’t getting that,” he says as his eyes move up and down my body.
“If I want to, I will,” I say, reminding him that he will not tell me what to wear.
He glares at me for a moment before speaking. “I know . . . I just meant you shouldn’t. It’s too revealing for your taste.”
“That’s what I thought.” I hum and look in the full-length mirror once more.
Hardin smirks, and I see him check out my bottom. “It is incredibly sexy, though.”
“Next,” I say and walk back into the dressing room.
The gold dress feels silky against my skin despite the entire dress being covered in tiny gold disks. It falls to the middle of my thighs, and the sleeves are quarter length. This is much more me, only a touch riskier than usual. The sleeves give the illusion of the dress being more conservative, but the way the material clings to my body and the short length say otherwise.
“Tess,” Hardin whines impatiently from directly outside. I open the door, and his reaction makes my heart flutter.
“Christ.” He swallows.
“You like it?” I chew my bottom lip. I feel pretty confident in the dress, especially after Hardin’s cheeks turn pink and he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.
“Very much.”
This is such a normal couple thing to be doing, trying on clothes for him at Macy’s, it feels strange yet very comforting. I was terrified a few days ago when he found out about my dinner with Trevor in Seattle.
“I’m going to get this one, then,” I say.
After finding a pair of thick and rather intimidating black pumps, we head to check-out. Hardin pesters me to let him pay, but I refuse, this time winning the battle.
“You’re right, you really should be buying me something . . . you know, to make up for the lack of Christmas gifts I received,” he teases as we exit the mall.