Laura
I leaned back on the plush sofa, arms crossed over my chest, watching Arlene clutch her phone to her heart like some romantic heroine in an old movie. The Paris sun poured in through the balcony doors, casting a golden glow over her face.
"You're in deep, Arlene," I said, smirking as she tried, and failed, to suppress a smile.
"Stop it, Laura," she said, swatting at my arm.
I wiggled my eyebrows. "Oh, come on! 'Favorite girl'? 'Take care of yourself'? You might as well book the wedding hall now."
"Laura!" she groaned, but a small giggle escaped her lips.
"Ryan and Arlene sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G—"
"Stop it!" she laughed, tossing a pillow at me.
We both dissolved into laughter, our shoulders shaking as the sound filled the room. But just as the laughter started to fade, I noticed Arlene's face shift. The glow disappeared, replaced by a faint shadow.
