𝐇𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 |𝟏𝟖+

64 || Hormonal (Bonus)

THIS STORY IS ABOUT TO REACH 4MIL READS. THANK YOU ALL, I GENUINELY CANT WRAP MY HEAD AROUND THAT ❤️

Song: Daniel Cesar, H.E.R - best part (slowed + reverb)

𝔚𝔚𝔚
Giana

Motherfucking bitch.

This can't be happening. It just can't.

A knock echos through the small room and I snap my head up towards the door. "Excuse me, Miss Galanti?"

Miss Galanti.

I can already feel the tiny little prickles of tears welling behind my eyes.

This can't be happening.

My life is completely and utterly ruined.

"What?" I snap, wiping at the few stray tears that'd managed to escape.

Rule number one in Common Curtesy 101, never fucking interrupt someone that could be taking a giant shit.

"Sorry to be a bother." Her voice sounds from the other side. "But I have packed the dress up for you. I do apologize for the wait. We don't get window shoppers demanding to buy a one of a kind dress right off the rack." She laughs nervously. "Much less a wedding dress."

My teeth begin to ache from how hard I'm clenching them and my eyes narrow at the white door.

Fuck that one of a kind Alexander McQueen wedding dress.

I'd been eyeing it for months, driving past the cute little boutique on Madison Avenue and the day I decide to finally come purchase it right off the rack, this fucking happens.

I shove the stupid little white stick back into my handbag and storm out of the washroom, nearly running into the nosy boutique clerk.

The lady yelps and I sidestep her to move straight towards the front doors while her hurried footsteps sound behind me. "Excuse me Miss, what are you doing?"

"Leaving."

"But- what would you like me to do with the dress?"

"I don't want it." I grit out, grabbing my coat and tossing aside the complementary champagne she'd brought out.

"That's ridiculous. You already paid for it." She chimes in from behind me. "Aren't you going to want a dress for your wedding?"

My wedding?

"There is no wedding." I snap. I came in here on a whim after I'd checked the voicemail at the penthouse to find a message from the man that handled Alessio's finances, saying that the transfer of funds to the Blue Nile company was complete.

I had no idea why the message was sent to the landline that no one used. It must have been a mistake on their part because Blue Nile was a jewelry company, and there was only one piece of jewelry I could imagine him spending six figures on.

Which meant that Alessio had finally pulled his head out of my ass and decided he was going to propose.

I spin around and send the clerk a glare. "Burn it. Keep it. Give it to one of the crackheads on the street. I don't care. Just get it away from me." Her eyes widen in response and I withhold the urge to scream.

Maybe I would've felt bad for being such a bitch if she hadn't glanced me up and down the second I walked in here, and told me that the dress would only fit after I lost ten pounds.

I'd already been feeling a little insecure about my fluctuating weight. Not to mention, I was a stress eater and in New York, I was stressed all the fucking time.