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“That would imply I’m staying,” I answer quickly and honestly, and this time, it’s her who frowns.
“You’re not staying?”
“The verdict is still out,” I mumble, attempting to soften the blow. I don’t know why her feelings matter to me, but I don’t really want to get attached to people and leave them in the dust. That’s happened to me before, and it sucks.
“Well, let’s make sure you have a good time tonight. Then you might be more inclined to stay,” she replies with a wink, before rummaging through my bag and pulling the clothes out.
She goes through it all, my tops, my pants, even my fucking underwear, until she settles on the clothes that dangle from her hands. “We can make this work.”
I look at each item, then back to her as I shake my head. “I’m already wearing those jeans, just in a different color,” I state.
“Oh, they’re not staying as jeans. If you give me ten minutes, I can either turn these into a pair of frayed shorts or a mini skirt. Which would you prefer?”
I gape at her for a moment, and the look in her eyes tells me there’s no option C with this, so I go back and forth between shorts and a skirt. The idea of easy access after last night runs through my mind, but after the shit with Axel today, I’m sure that’s now off the table.
Still… It might be fun.
“Skirt,” I answer, and she squeals, bouncing on the spot before she tosses the cropped top in my direction.
“Perfect, put this on and I’ll be back in ten. Get your make-up out for me too,” she orders, dashing from the room before I can even piece together a sentence in response.
Deciding to just go with it, I take off my Metallica tee and slip into the strappy one Emily chose, before spreading my make-up out on the bed.
It’s literally ten minutes on the dot that she waltzes back into the room with my jeans in multiple pieces, but the one that matters the most makes my eyes widen. Fuck, that’s smaller than I thought it was going to be, but the prideful grin on her face has me reaching out for it.
“Do you want me to turn around to give you some privacy?” she offers, and I shake my head.
“Are you joking? You’re going to see just as much when I’ve got it on anyway,” I joke, shimmying out of my jeans and stepping into my new skirt. It falls just below my ass, covering more than I actually expected, and Emily claps. “Where did you learn to do this?”
“I’m studying fashion at college.”
“Good, because you’re freaking awesome at it,” I state, making her smile grow before she turns her attention to the make-up on the bed.
“Let’s get your make-up done before Maggie comes looking for us.”
Without a word, I take a seat on the bed, letting her do her thing as she applies everything. I could have easily done it myself, but something tells me she doesn’t get moments like this very often, and truthfully, neither do I.
Once she’s done, she offers me a small compact mirror. “What do you think?”
I take it from her hand, twisting my face from side to side as I look at my reflection. How the fuck has she used the exact same stuff that I do on a daily basis, but comes out with results like this?
“Please tell me cosmetology is your minor or something because this is some next level shit.” She preens under my praise.
“Stop, it’s the base I had to use that makes it magic.” I shake my head at her for brushing off my compliment, but I don’t push, knowing full well it can make some people uncomfortable.
“Are we ready?”
“Yes, let’s go. Maybe I can sneak a beer without Emmett looking if we get out there soon enough,” she fake-whispers, before opening the door and stepping out into the hallway.
It’s official; this girl is a fucking whirlwind.
Realizing I don’t have anything on my feet, I search for the used sandals I slipped into my bag before I left the Reapers. They don’t go perfectly with the outfit, but I guess they’ll go better than my combat boots, which are the only alternative.
I follow after her and find her waiting at the inner door that leads into the bar area. When we step into the space, the usual hustle and bustle is nonexistent, but there’s plenty of noise coming from outside. Emily leads the way, and uncertainty slowly starts to get the better of me as we step out into the late evening air.
There are people everywhere. Men in cuts occupy the yard, while women and children fill the picnic benches, and the Ruthless Bitches huddle around the trees in the distance. The space isn’t huge, but everyone is here, together, and it instantly feels like… a family.
My gaze zeros in on the four men sitting at a bench separate from everyone else. Ryker seems to be glaring at Axel, who is picking at the label on his bottle of beer. While Gray hollers to his mom, and Emmett sits with his arms folded over his chest, eyes scanning the crowd.
