Hannah and Beau Have a Fight . . .

    Hannah Anderson was not Jan Brady when it came to her older sister, she really wasn’t. She just . . . felt less than at times in comparison. Kate was the gorgeous, curvy, cheerleader while Hannah was the plain, flat-chested, unpopular one. Okay, so maybe that was oversimplifying things. Now that they were in college, Hannah knew the popularity thing wasn’t as simple as she’d thought it had been back in high school. Kate had opened up about a lot of things she’d previously kept to herself, so Hannah now understood high school was no picnic for either of them. Still, she struggled constantly with comparing herself to Kate, and, if she were honest, she struggled with jealousy too. 

     Here she was, eighteen years old and standing in front of the mirror beside her sister, and she suddenly felt fourteen again. The Pocahontas costume had seemed like such a great idea when Ally told them it was a couples Halloween party. Beau would make such a handsome John Smith, and it was a more unique choice than other Disney princesses. Now however, her sister was standing next to her like a cast member from a Jane Austen film. Actually, if this were a regency film, Kate would definitely be Jane Bennett, the quiet yet beautiful and almost perfect sister to the social misfit Elizabeth. Kate’s perfect skin looked gorgeous against the light blue regency gown, and her strawberry blonde hair curled delicately around her face. Next to her, Hannah was a pale, freckled pre-pubescent nightmare in a shocking black wig. Why had she not considered her coloring when she imagined Pocahontas’s gorgeous hair blowing in the wind? It did not look attractive on her. 

    The doorbell to their apartment rang. “Can you get that?” Kate asked as she leaned closer to the mirror with mascara wand in hand.
 
     Hannah sighed and stomped her way to the door. She yanked it open, knowing she had a scowl on her face. She dreaded Beau’s reaction to the costume. As quiet as he was, as close to the vest as he kept his emotions, he also had this grimace his face would twist into at times without conscious thought. He couldn’t stop it when Hannah had made a disastrous three layer cake for his birthday. He hadn’t been able to control it when a hairdresser had cut Micah’s hair way too close. She dreaded to see that grimace now, so she kept her head down.

    “Wow,” he breathed, “you look amazing!”

     Hannah’s head snapped up, expecting to see that disgusted look to belie his words, but instead, his eyes were widened in awe as he scanned her top to bottom. For some reason, it pissed her off. She gasped and crossed her arms stubbornly across her chest. 

     “Are you serious!?”

     Beau’s forehead wrinkled. “Huh?”

   Hannah let out a frustrated groan and turned away from the door. Beau followed hesitantly, closing the door behind him. She whirled back around to face him, registering for the first time that he did make an incredibly handsome John Smith. The boots somehow made him look even taller and stronger than normal, the blue color of the vest brought out the caramel flecks in his brown eyes, and the rolled up white shirt accentuated his broad arms. Hannah narrowed her eyes at him, searching for his true opinion on her appearance. She wasn’t going to be distracted by how handsome he was. 

     “Don’t patronize me, Beau, I know I Iook ridiculous!”

     “But you don’t! You’re adorable!”

     “Great!” Hannah shouted, though she knew deep down she was being ridiculous and petty. “I look like an eight year old about to go trick-or-treating!”

     Scowling, she plopped down on the couch. The bell rang again, and her sister went to get it.

     “I didn’t mean it that way,” Beau tried to explain. “Actually, your legs look hot in that dress.”
    Later, Hannah would look back and appreciate his words, but right now she was completely fixated on how little she resembled Pocahontas. Instead of a proud native princess standing in the mists of a waterfall with perfect hair, Hannah looked like a grade schooler in a tacky wig. 

        “I look like a ghost in this dark wig, Beau! Don’t tell me you don’t see it!”

        “I honestly don’t,” he snapped back. 

       She was vaguely aware of Kate and Josiah having a conversation nearby. About them, she was pretty sure, but she didn’t care. She ripped the wig off her head.

        “I’m not wearing it!”

        Beau shrugged. “Okay, then don’t wear it.”

        She gasped. “So you do think I look pale!”

      Beau looked helplessly up at Josiah and Kate which made Hannah’s blood boil even more. “I - I didn’t say that, I’m just saying you’ll look fine either way . . .”

      “Uh, so we’re gonna go,” muttered Josiah, gently guiding Kate to the door. 

       Kate hesitated. “But they’re not supposed to be in the apartment alone -”

       Hannah rolled her eyes. “Oh please, as if Beau even wants his girlfriend when she’s pale as a ghost.”

       “I never said that!” Beau shouted. 

      Hannah jumped to her feet and pulled Beau along by the arm. She stomped past her unfairly beautiful sister, dragging Beau through the door. 

       “We’re going, purity police,” she spat at her sister. “I’ll just braid my hair in the car and be a red headed Pocahontas.”

       Beau said nothing as she dragged him down the apartment stairs and to his parked jeep. She didn’t even look at him as she got in the passenger side and slammed the door shut. She saw him shake his head wearily as he rounded the vehicle and slid behind the wheel. He paused, however, before starting the car. 

      “I meant it when I said you looked amazing, you know,” he said quietly, his shoulders sagging in defeat. The sadness in his expression melted Hannah’s heart. 

      “You did?”

     “Yeah,” he said, turning to smile at her hesitantly. He reached out and ran his hand gently through her hair. “And I love your red hair.”

       Hannah bit her lip, her cheeks blushing at his praise. “You really think my legs are hot in this dress?”

        He glanced down, then back up at her again, his face bright red. “Yeah. Definitely.”

        She leaned across the seat and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. When she pulled back, she sighed before gathering half her thick, red hair and beginning to plait it. 

        “I sounded like a baby, didn’t I?”

        “No.” But there it was, that grimace. She chuckled. 

         “I can read you, don’t forget, Beau Rockport. I was acting immature, and you know it.”

        He chuckled and shrugged sheepishly. “Okay, you kinda were.”

       She sighed as she tied off the end of the first braid. She was thankful that she had a bad habit of discarding hair elastics in Beau’s cupholders. 

       “I guess I had this unrealistic image of how gorgeous I would look tonight.”

       “You are gorgeous, Hannah? Why can’t you see that?”

         Hannah blinked back the moisture gathering in her eyes. “You’re so good to me.”

         He leaned over, cupping her face in his hands. “I’m just telling you the truth.”

        She felt herself melt against him as he deepened the kiss. He playfully tugged on her one finished braid, and she giggled against his lips. She always thought confidence would come when a boy loved her. Or at least noticed her. Beau’s gaze, his words, his embrace should have chased away all the insecurities, but they hadn’t. 

       Beau started the car and backed it out into the street. They both fell into comfortable silence as he drove to the party. Hannah’s brow furrowed in thought as she swiftly plaited her second braid. 

       Lord, help me let go of the way I compare myself to my sister. Beau can’t do it for me, but I know You can.

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