"Was growing my hair back out a bad option?" A now twenty five year old Hanna Marin said as she peered into her compact mirror at her long blonde locks, "The last thing I want is to have a hair disaster like Emma Watson, that pixie cut? So not attractive," she raved to her three best friends from high school, Spencer Hastings, Emily Fields, and Aria Montgomery. The girls had met up for coffee before a class reunion that would take place in the evening, just like old times. Hanna frankly found the meeting awkward, the girls had drifted apart when they left for college and trnying to pick up like old times had proved fruitless.
"Same old Hanna I remember," Emily said, tossing her own jet black glossy locks over her tanned swimmers shoulders, that had grown even more broad since high school. So it went like this, small talk about appearances, college, boyfriends, and family. It was as if their tortured teen years had vanished altogether, that Ali never died, that A never blackmailed them. They were renewed girls.
"We should get going," Spencer said, standing up and wiping her hands on her plaid high waist shorts, showing off her long and lean legs. The girls appearances hadn't changed a bit, they were more mature, possibly even used less makeup, but the insides were totally different. Hanna knew it would be a long night, so with a quick selfie in her mirror, she shoved it in her Gucci tote and clacked her little black heels out of the café. Each step, a march of dread.
Hanna climbed into her car and quickly reached into her neatly organized suitcase in the back, and slipped on a two gold bangles to accessorize her tight fitting crimson dress. It was as if no one would ever know she had been living in her car for the past two weeks, she showered at the gym, and took all outfits from her closet before leaving her apartment. She hadn't gone to college, who had money for that? And her job at McDonalds was short-lived when she got caught scarfing down unpaid for fries. Yet she felt rich tonight, her dress hugged her toned body (thank you hot yoga) and ended right beneath her ass, and showed an ample amount of cleavage.
She looked as sexy as a twenty-one year old, but as mature as a thirty year old, in a good way of course. Who knew? Maybe some hot guys would return to the class reunion and maybe they would be rich and need a trophy wife. In that case, hand me the application Hanna thought. Im Hanna Marin, and im fabulous she told herself before pulling into a space at Rosewood High. She got out and acted as if she hadn't just left her home on wheels, but rather a luxury mansion overlooking the luscious farms of Pennsylvania.
When she walked into the reunion, it was buzzing with chatter and all the guys seemed to train their eyes on her. She smirked and with a burst of confidence strutted her stuff into the crowd, but then she saw it…him. She stopped dead in her tracks, leaving scuffs on the cafeterias floor with her heels. It was her ex, looking dapper in a charcoal gray unmistakably Armani tuxedo, wearing a white dress shirt underneath, no tie but rather a few buttons unopened. His body seemed more toned, his once shaggy hair was now refined into a mature, (still long) do, his cheekbones were even more defined, his brown eyes sparkled under the fluorescents.
His tilted his head back with laughter, casually sipping a flute of champagne, so sophisticated and established. His took a sip and his brown eyes wandered around the room, they paused on Hanna and widened. Hanna uncomfortably turned away and rushed over to her friends, nonchalantly looking back once more to see him still staring, his mouth slightly agape. She hadn't seen him since in years, he was Caleb Rivers.
