Scream For me

ONE WEEK LATER…

“I said yes!” Xana holds up her hand, a gorgeous pillow-cut diamond catches the light as she wriggles her fingers.Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

“You said yes!” I shout back to her as I grab her hand to get a closer look at the ring. I throw my arms around her, hugging her tightly. “Oh, you deserve this so much. I’m so happy for you and Ryan.” I look at the ring again. “And damn, he did a really good job,” I say, pretending to be surprised like he didn’t consult me before designing it.

“You knew, didn’t you?” She narrows one eye at me.

“I knew about the ring, but I had no idea when he was going to do it. He wanted to design the perfect ring for you so he did ask me for my input.”

“I figured.” She laughs, then holds her hand up to admire it. “I can’t believe I’m a fiancee.” She turns to me. “Will you officially be my maid of honor?”

“Of course, whatever you need, I’ve got you covered. Let me grab some wine, and then you have to tell me all about how he proposed!” I jump off the couch, grab a bottle and two glasses, and settle in for the romantic story.

“And when I walked into the room, he had spelled out in rose petals and candles, will you marry me? I screamed so loud and jumped into his arms I forgot to say yes.”

We laugh and talk, already brainstorming ideas for the bachelorette party. “I feel like this is too big of news to stay in. I say we go dancing.” Xana and I haven’t gone out dancing in forever. I’m not even sure we still know how to let loose and have fun.

For as much as I want it to only be about Xana’s special moment, I also could use a night away from my constant thoughts about Weston. He promised me a week and today marks the seventh day since I’ve seen or heard from him. I’ve thought about our last conversation every single day. I’ve contemplated my feelings, trying to talk myself out of wanting what I want with him, but no matter how many times I tell myself that I’m not ready, my heart says otherwise.

I haven’t told Xana anything about my conversation with Natalie… I haven’t told her about Natalie at all actually. I’m fully prepared to get my heart ripped out and stomped on, so the less people who know, the better. Besides, this is such a happy time in her life, I’m not about to be the one who brings her down. God knows she’s had to be my shoulder to cry on enough the last two years.

“Oh yes, can we, please? Wait, I can’t go out in this.” She points down to her jeans and hoodie.

“Come on. I still have so many dresses in my closet from back in the day.” We go through the dresses, having a little movie montage moment of trying them on and dancing around my room until we finally settle on the right outfits. I shimmy my way into a silvery blue body con dress that hugs every curve and dip of my body, then I strap on a mile-high pair of stilettos that lace halfway up my calf. Xana slips on a hot-pink satin minidress complete with matching pink heels.

“Damn, we still have it,” Xana says as we look ourselves over in my bathroom mirror.

“We’re only twenty-seven, of course, we still have it. Now, I’m not sure if still have the dance moves or the stamina to hang out past midnight.” “Challenge accepted.” She laughs.

We grab an Uber and head out, spending the next few hours dancing, laughing, and having too many fruity cocktails.

“By the way, any new updates on Mr. Vaughn? Oh, should we keep calling him Mr. Eiffel Tower, if you know what I mean?” She gives a very dramatic wink, making me laugh.

“He’s fine, still grumpy and moody and hot. Enough about him though; tonight is about you. Let’s get another drink!” I shout over the music, hoping my avoiding the topic wasn’t too obvious. It seems to do the trick because a few minutes later we’re back to dancing and laughing.

By the time I make it back to my apartment, it’s after one in the morning, my feet are killing me, and my buzz has all but worn off into a nonstop yawn.

“Thanks. Have a good night.” I shut the car door and head upstairs, taking my heels off the second I get through my front door. I toss them along with my purse on the floor, walking over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. I chug it, tossing it in the trash and heading back to wipe off my makeup and crawl into bed.

“Argh,” I groan, contorting my arm as I struggle to reach the zipper on the back of my dress.

“Need some help with that?”

“Ahh!” I scream, spinning around to see a dark shadowy figure sitting in the chair in the corner of my bedroom. I stumble backward, catching myself on my closet door as I reach over and flip on my bedside lamp. “What the hell are you doing? How’d you even get in here?”

“I own the building, remember?” He says it calmly, his eyes never leaving mine. “I told you, Daphne, you had one week.”