Chapter 14

Nikolai

Katya had texted me to tell me where she and Hannah would be shopping, so I begrudgingly made my way through the long, noisy corridor of the mall to meet them. I hated the mall. I hated shopping. I was only here because, although I wanted Katya to take over the majority of the shopping shit, I needed to make sure she chose the right clothes for Hannah. I don't know why I cared, but I didn't want her to dress Hannah in anything that was too tight or too revealing. I mean, she was supposed to be my girlfriend. I didn’t want Katya dressing her in a way that would have every motherfucker in our school drooling after her.
I couldn’t even believe I cared, but I did. I wanted to punch myself in the face for devoting as much of my thought process to this as I had, but handling Hannah’s problems was making me feel responsible for her, a development I was deeply uncomfortable about. It was a feeling that made the neckline of my shirt feel too tight.
When I walked up on Hannah and Katya, they were laughing like they’d been friends for years. I stopped about ten feet away and stared.
Katya had done something to her face, put makeup her on or something, because she looked different. Maybe it was because she wasn't wearing her glasses? A sheet of thick, straight, almost black hair fell past the middle of her back. My fists clenched in an attempt to suppress the urge to touch it, wrap it around my fist. Jesus, I needed to fucking pull it together.
I was not attracted to Hannah. I felt sorry for her. That’s it.
"Hey, Kat, how's it going?" I gritted out. Both girls looked at me, and I got my first full look at Hannah's face. She was definitely wearing makeup because her violet eyes looked big and dramatic in contrast with her dark hair and pale skin. Her smiling mouth was red and pouty, like they had just been kissed and bitten.
As if reading my mind, she bit into her lower lip, showing me the even, white teeth I hadn’t had the chance to appreciate before. I was beginning to wonder if I’d fucked myself by insisting on this makeover. I had only wanted to make this whole thing believable, not make Hannah so hot that I’d want to fuck her myself.
But here we were.
"It's going great!" Katya replied cheerily, jerking my attention back to her. "Hannah and I are like long lost sisters,” Katya said as she pulled Hannah in an impromptu hug.
Hannah shot Katya a look filled with indulgence and appreciation as she threw her arm around Katya’s waist. I was glad I had asked Katya to help Hannah. I didn't know how many friends Hannah had, but it looked like she was grateful for Katya's exuberant guidance.
I shook my head at more uncharacteristic thoughts, reminding myself that I didn’t care if Hannah had other friends. I cleared my throat and found myself casually saying, "Okay, well, why don't you show me what you had in mind for her to wear."
"You want to see the clothes?" Katya asked, shooting me a look of astonishment. She knew I could give a shit about fashion. Then a smug, knowing look slid over her pretty face. “Why? Do you want to make sure you approve?" She was mocking me, but I could tell there was a serious edge to her question.
Unfortunately, that's exactly why I wanted to see what she’d chosen. To make sure I approved of what Hannah would be wearing, and to get rid of what I didn't like. However, I wasn’t particularly interested in dissecting my motivations. “Just let me see the fucking clothes, all right?" I said this with good-natured exasperation, so she'd let it go.
Katya gave me another speculative look, then turned to Hannah, shrugged, and shooed her toward the fitting room. Hannah gave one last glance at me, no doubt also surprised that I would give even one fuck about which clothes Katya had chosen.
After Hannah left, Katya turned on me quickly, frowning. "What gives, Nik? Are you seriously worried that I would put her in something inappropriate?"
I sighed and rubbed my hand down my face. "No, not really.”
Katya's confused look was replaced by another smug smile. "You like her, don't you?"
I wanted to laugh. Like her? No, not really. I didn’t even know her.
"Let's talk about something else," I responded, unable and unwilling to explain my actions. Katya’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, as she opened her mouth to, no doubt, ask me another irritating question.
Fortunately, Hannah came out of the dressing room at that moment. She was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans, black flats, and one of those flowy, white, peasant-style blouses with embroidery on the front. The shirt was loose enough, but it had a wide neckline that tended to sometimes slide off of one shoulder. It showed the smooth, flawless skin of her upper chest and shoulders, and made me want to sink my teeth into her delicate looking collarbone. Even though the outfit was tame, I could still feel my dick starting to respond in appreciation.
My expression was like stone right now, trying to get my surging interest under control. Hannah was staring at me expectantly, obviously looking for some positive feedback. I cleared my throat and gritted out, "It looks fine."
Hannah looked a little crestfallen at my faint praise, but I didn't have it in me to deal with it. "Let's see another one," I said, as I gestured back to the dressing room. After that came a parade of similar looking items consisting of skinny jeans, loose casual looking tops, and a couple of cute dresses. Katya had done an amazing job of making Hannah look fashionable, but still staying true to who Hannah was, because Hannah not only looked attractive, but comfortable and at ease.
I was about to tell Hannah she didn't have to bother showing me more and was feeling really stupid for even asking to see the clothes at all, when she walked out in a pair of wide legged pants, sandals and a dark blue, fitted sleeveless top. It had a wide neckline with a piece of fabric falling over each breast and crossing at her midsection. The V-neck only revealed barest bit of cleavage, but the tight fit gave a very clear view of her dynamite rack and the fitted waist highlighted her curves in a way that made me uncomfortable. This was not an outfit I would pick for Hannah. I’d never let her leave the house in that. No fucking way. Was she even wearing a bra? This outfit was overtly sexy. No. No way was she wearing that anywhere.
"What the fuck, Katya?" I exploded, as I turned on her.
Katya's eyes widened in surprise, and I shot a quick glance over to Hannah to see her react in much the same way.
"What?"
"What are you thinking? She can't wear that. Forget it." I was barking out sentence after sentence, worked up at the idea of all the guys at school who had never noticed Hannah before running to the bathroom to rub one out after seeing her in that outfit. Having *them* wonder if she was wearing a bra. I didn't think so. No fucking way.
I opened my mouth to say exactly that to Katya, when I looked at Hannah and saw her eyes shining with tears. She started to slowly walk back to the dressing room, not saying a word, but she didn't have to. Her expression said everything.
Fuck.
Katya now turned on me. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Nikolai? How could you say that?"
I sighed as I sat in down in one of the chairs they had just outside the changing rooms. I was already starting to regret my outburst for multiple reasons. I leaned my head on the back of the chair, looked up at the ceiling, and tried to control all the opposing impulses running through me.
One part of me believed wholeheartedly in what I'd said about Hannah's clothes. Guys would be all over her. And I didn't like that. However, another part of me realized that Hannah had the right to wear whatever the fuck she wanted, and no one—not even me—had the right to tell her she couldn't. Unfortunately.
And most importantly, since when did I give a fuck about what any girl wore? Never, that was when. The fact that I’d demonstrated *any* opinion at all about Hannah’s clothes was surprising, but to have this kind of response was downright alarming.
As I was trying to sort out my reaction, Katya decided to chime in and twist the knife. She smacked me on the shoulder and sat on the arm of my chair. "Why do you think she dressed the way she did before, Nikolai?" She didn't wait for me to answer. "She dressed that way because she was afraid to be noticed, afraid to stand out. She was uncomfortable with herself, and I took her here and put her in clothes that made her feel happy. Feel proud. And you ruined that acting like a goddamned Neanderthal, you asshole!" She was whisper screaming at me now, obviously not wanting to let Hannah hear her, but wanting me to know how much I’d fucked up.
I opened my mouth to explain that I’d been trying to protect Hannah. Sort of. Then I looked at Katya’s furious expression and realized it would be stupid to try and defend anything at that moment. "I get it. I’ll go apologize.” I took a deep breath and slowly rose from my chair, knowing I had to clear the air with Hannah.
Another first.