Six Months Later
Julianna’s POV
For the past six months I relearned everything about Zayn and myself. Some days when he didn’t have work we would sleep in until one in the afternoon, to wake up to each other’s sleepy faces and just talk about the future. Others we would sit so close we could hear each other’s heart beats, and we would just banter on about this and that. We had an awful fun time in the past six months; it’s been slow, sweet, and romantic. But we’re on month seven now, and I’m dreading what’s only two months away.
D-day. Or, more accurately, W-day; my wedding. Something most women dream about forever has become a pretty prison for me, a ceremony of dread. It’s not that I don’t want to get married- I do, no pun intended- but I have a bad feeling about it. Like some black cat roaming around in my head around the wedding date.
“Jules?” A husky male voice calls for me. I turn my head, realizing only then I’d been staring off into space. I’m pulled back into reality by his voice- Zayn’s. One of his strong hands is rubbing my back, and he looks at me in concern. “Are you alright?” Smiling, I nod. I know he’s going to be forever worried about me, because no one who knew about “the incident” will ever forget it, and if anyone did, it would certainly not be Zayn.
“Yeah, I was just thinking about what happens in two months.” I sigh, breathing in his delicious and manly scent. Without thinking, I grab him and pull him closer, smelling him involuntarily. I can hear him chuckle, and I lightly punch him. “It’s not my fault you smell good!” I whine into his shirt, which I’m still smelling. I love breathing in his scent, the only thing that truly belongs to him completely.
“But it is your fault that you’re so horny.” He whispers before our lips collide. For a few seconds I’m overwhelmed for the three millionth time by how soft his perfect lips are, but I’m not letting him get away with that comment. I break off our kiss, laying farther back on the couch.
“Au contraire, mi amour.” I tell him, combining what I believe is French and Spanish into the same sentence. Eh, whatever, you only live once… “It actually isn’t my fault for being horny, since you are making me it.” I reply, trailing my left pointer finger down his fit body, starting at his jaw line and moving my way to his chest. He sighs, pulling me closer.
“I’m sorry, baby.” He replies, kissing me on the nose. “But I have to get revenge somehow he murmurs, before we begin snogging again. This time I let myself get lost in the passion, and before I know it, my legs are around his waist and he’s carrying me somewhere- presumably the bedroom.
“KNOCK!” As the thump on the door signals someone asking for us, Zayn and I flinch. However I just press us closer together, keen not to lose this moment. Just as his hand is on the door handle, the bang resounds again. Gently setting me down on our cold wood flooring, he walks towards the door. Reluctantly, I straighten my clothing and hair, which had gotten ruffled, and followed him.
Zayn’s hand is going to unlock the door, and I push him out of the way, shaking my head. “Zayn Javaad Malik, have you checked who it is yet?” I question, cocking my head to the side. He cheekily shakes his head no, and I let out a frustrated sigh. Who knows who could show up and knock on our door- an ex girlfriend, a crazed fan, or-even though I dread this- Adam. Taking the right precautions, I look through the peekhole which reveals Mar, Belle, Larissa, and Maritza.
“So who is it?” He asks curiously. I sigh again, knowing he got away this time.
“Well, you got lucky. It’s just the girls.” He smiles his wide smile, filled with his beautiful, straight white teeth…
“Are you going to let us in, or are you two just going stand there looking at each other with goo-goo eyes?” Maritza asks us. “We can practically feel the sexual tension between you guys. Seriously, when is it going to stop?!” I let out a giggle, moving to open the door. As the thin, old door opens, Zayn wraps his arms around me waist. Without blinking an eye, Larissa mutters a dirty comment as she enters.
“Excuse me, Larissa Emily Aaron, what was that?” She looks me right in the eye and doesn’t lie.
“Surprise butt sex this early in the morning, Jules? I thought you were a late night person!” She says, keeping her oddly pale face oddly pale, before plopping down on the couch. Even at her disturbing comment Zayn doesn’t move away from me, and I’m grateful for his strength, even if Larissa’s comment is a teensy-weensy thing. It’s just wonderful to have someone who can actually stand by you and not hit you when something comes up. To have someone who supports you, no matter what happens. To have someone who loves you and lives with you, not hates you and uses you as a live-in punching bag.
“Sorry Lariss, but if you didn’t want to see, you should’ve stayed home. So why are all of you here again?” I reply. Mar comes up to me excitedly, clapping her hands in anticipation.
“Well, your wedding day is only two months away, and we need to start preparations! Colors! Dresses! And invite list! Entertainment! The reception! Wedding location!” She rolls off, keeping her voice loud and eager the whole time. I take a deep breath and lean into Zayn: I knew this day had to come sometime or another.
“Okay, so where do we start?”
~*~*~
I’m seriously starting to regret ever getting married. Why can’t Zayn and I be like Helena Bonham Carter and Tim Burton, have children and live together, but not be married? It’d be so, so¸ much easier! Damn the society and their judgmental voices! Damn proper families! Damn Marie, Isabella, Maritza and Larissa for being so damn excited! As I’m ranting about how much I hate weddings, though, I get poked in the shoulder. Again.
“Julianna Sofia Moore, you have to pay attention!” Bell tells me, turning my head so it faces a sheet of paper. “The only invites we have so far are Zayn’s family, us, the boys, and…” She trails off, looking at the paper. After the boys’ names, there’s nothing; that’s how many friends I have. Zip, zero. Nada: goose eggs. “Well, you get my drift. What about you, your family?”
I look down at the paper and put my head in my hands. My family… where do I start with my family? The constant turbulence between me and my mother that lasted until her death? The vastness of my extended family, half of which knew about Adam beating me? My father, who has been oblivious to Adam hurting me the whole time, all because he was, and still is, although I haven’t spoken to him in a while- completely consumed with grief for my mother?
“Jules, I know your family is a hard topic for you, but we can do this. We just have to pick out the ones you like, and then we’re set. Alright?” Belle soothes me, rubbing my back. Marie looks put off, but picks up her pen, looking at me expectantly.
“My dad.” I choke out, wiping a fat tear away from my brown eyes. I haven’t seen him… Since… Since I started college, and that was nearly seven years ago. “My favorite cousin, Alexa. And my cousin Catherine. Plus Maddie and their parents and my grandma. Don’t forget my--” I stop myself abruptly. Did I really almost say my mother? She died ten years ago. Why would I say her? Out of habit?
Probably.
“And who?” Larissa asks, walking into the living room holding a pitcher of lemonade, with Maritza trailing behind her with five glasses.
“Never mind, that’s it.” I think back to everything I’ve done. I still have my college friends. My job friends that I only knew for a little while, since Adam made me quit after six months. “With my family,” I smile. I’m glad I got that over with; now I can invite Maria, Marlee, Katie, Kathryn, Logan, Dariee, Jason, Joanne- I forgot how many friends I have. Used to have, I mean. “I have Marlee, Marie, Kathryn…” I trail off, giving them my complete list of close friends. Since I have my brain organized well, we’re done in a matter of minutes. After my half of the guest list is done, I sit back in my chair, sipping some lemonade. “What now guys?” I ask, just as our doorbell rings.
“Wow,” Maritza exclaims, “I didn’t know they were that efficient.”
“Who?” I ask, confused.
“Well, your wedding planners, obviously. We can’t do this all by ourselves!” She giggles, walking up to the door an unlocking it. In walks a petite woman, maybe 5’ 3” if she’s lucky. Her brunette hair works well with her soft blue eyes, a rare feature not many people are gifted with. And, much to my jealousy, she has a figure. Behind her follows a tall, wiry, blonde male with Ray-Bands glasses. I smile kindly at both of them, sticking out my hand and introducing myself.
“It’s nice to meet you Julianna; I’m Clia and this is Patrick. We work at Everything Weddings, please don’t laugh at the name- and your friends hired us. We have a few different themes for your wedding. Would you like to see?” Clia asks me. Nodding, I guide both of them to the dining room table, the girls following in suit. Patrick sets down a leather computer bag on the table, pulling out three folders.
“Okay, we have three overall themes picked out,” he begins, “the summery and light beach theme, where you would get married in Hawaii or perhaps Florida. Then there’s the traditional theme, where we would go to your church and sign up for a wedding slot there. The last one is very modern and is tailored more to your fiancée’s liking; getting married during a concert. We realize that you might not like it, but it would certainly be cool and flashy and-” I stare curiously at Patrick, strangely loving the way he’s so enthusiastic about his job. I’m about the start laughing when Clia rests her hand on his arm and motions for him to stop.
“As Patrick was saying, the first option for you to get married is on a beach. I know we have beaches here, but they’re quite cold, so we were thinking somewhere like Hawaii or Florida. You could fly your guest down on your fiancée’s private jet, yes? Anyhow, that’s none of our business; we’re just the party planners. If you opted for the beach wedding, we would have you wearing a much lighter dress and you would most likely be barefoot. Afterwards, the reception would be on the beach also, and the ocean would be open to people as would the pool by the bar.” I nod along, rather liking the beach idea. In my mind I can see all the simple beauty and fun. I could visualize my dress and the surroundings. I’m awfully sorry Patrick, but my mind is already made up.
“Clia?”
“Yes, Julianna?”
“I think I don’t have to hear any more ideas. I’m going with the beach wedding.” Over from where the girls are sitting you hear cheers, but Patrick is silent as he pouts. “I’m sorry Pat, but I love the beach wedding more.”
“Okay, Ms. Moore; time to get started. Why don’t you look for the dresses while we handle the location? We’ll run the location, entertainment, and food by you before anything gets official.” Clia continues.
“Alright,” I smile, standing up. My legs, cramped from sitting so long, sighed with relief as they unfolded. “Well, girls, let’s go!”
~*~*~
“I like this one!” Larissa calls out as she pulls out a relatively simple strapless white dress. Right below where your breasts are, there is a flower pattern, portrayed by diamonds, that is repeated in silver embroidery on the tulle over skirt. It is gorgeous, and simple, and not as poufy as some of the other gowns here, which is nice, since it would just create havoc on the beach. The train is also moderately short, so that will work well with the sand too.
“How about this?” Belle asks, carrying over a more extravagant, but no less beautiful, dress. The neckline is straight, and on the waist there’s a thin belt studded with diamonds. Below the belt, the skirt split apart and made room for flowing layers of ruffled organza which lets the skirt out a bit. Behind, the train spread out just a tad bit more than the other dress. My breath catches in my throat when I see it; I love it. But before I can say anything, Marie and Maritza come up with two more beautiful dresses. Oh my lord… all of them are gorgeous, what am I going to do?
“Okay guys, no more looking. These dresses are, to say the least, magnificent. But I can only have one dress, so it’s time to try these on.” I tell them. Larissa looks at me and cocks her head. “What?”
“Well, if you can’t decided between two, one of the dresses could be made of that rip-off material that superhero clothes are made out of, and after you walk down the aisle, you could rip it off to show off your second dress.” After she said that, all of our eyes rolled and we looked at her with “what the actual fuck” faces. She examines all of our face before breaking out into fits of laughter. “You-you guys actually though I would be stupid enough to come up with that?” She chokes out between giggle fits. Finally composing herself, she looks me straight in the eye. “But it is a pretty good idea.”
“A silly, messed up good idea, but I’ll give you brownie points for effort Liss. Now off to the dressing room we go!” I announce, leading everyone down the narrow aisles until we get to the princess-sized dressing rooms. I walk into one which looks like it could fit nearly ten people, and decide the girls can come in to; it’s not like we’re all girls, or anything. Plus I’m going to need loads of help putting on these dresses. We all walk in to the white-and-silver room, and I hang up three of the dresses, pulling out the one that Marie picked out. This one slightly resembled the one Belle picked out; however is had a hint of pink and a much shorter train. I gasp as I pull the dress on, letting the fabric gently caress my coffee skin. Marie steps behind me and zips me up, and I stare in the mirror. The split-front A-line skirt makes me look like I have a figure, and the pink flower where the skirt splits makes me feel like a little girl again. The dress is lovely and I can’t help but fall in love with how it makes me feel little again.
“Wow, Julianna… It looks striking on you, darling.” Maritza breathes, and against my will I smile. She always makes me feel good about myself, but I’m starting to see maybe she wasn’t always lying. This dress does look… unnaturally good on me. Marie walks over and takes a picture on her iPhone before she unzips me.
“My turn!” Larissa cheers, and pulls out the dress she picked up. I step into the white-and-silver ensemble, and I gasp again. The slightly shorter train makes me look taller than my short 5’ 4” frame, and slim. I smile at how the white and silver contrasts appealingly against my darker skin.
“I like it a lot Larissa. Thanks, girlfriend!” I say playfully, speaking in a Jersey accent and making a creepy face, lightly hitting her arm. Larissa begins chuckling, along with Maritza. I smile widely, realizing… I just made a joke. I just made people laugh. I was just happy, and even though I’ve been happy for a while, the sensation is still new. My skin is crawling and I have a giddy feeling in my stomach. In the midst of my joy, Marie takes a picture of me in that dress before I slip out of it, too. I take Belle’s dress off the rack. Belle unzips it for me, and I step in. This time I need some help pulling it up, because there’s just so much of it, and I lost the top in the skirt somewhere. But once Belle and I have found the top and pulled it up and zipped it, I smile again. This dress, much like Marie’s has a split A-line skirt; however it’s not tinted pink and has no flower appliqué. The thin diamond belt is beautiful, and I can’t help but smile.
“Belle, it’s beautiful!” Marie squeals, smoothing down the skirt in the back and pulling out my train. Once she’s done fixing the little things, I see a bright flash which signals her taking a picture of me. Once she’s done I admire the dress, thinking it could be the one for me, but then I see the real length of the train. Uh-oh; it’s long. Really long. In my head I can envision the dress kicking up sand everywhere, getting in people’s eyes and causing havoc.
“Belle, I love it so much. But I don’t think I can wear it on the beach, since it’d mess with the sand.” I tell her this, but her expression remains the same. I would’ve expected it to drop into a frown or something, but she just sighs slightly.
“I knew you would say that. I was thinking it in my own head, but the dress was so beautiful I had to give it a try.” She smiles at me, her white teeth, some of them fake, showing. She helps me get out of the stunning dress, and I catch sight of Maritza’s dress.
I literally lose my breath.
This dress, the one Maritza picked out for me, is literally the most perfect dress ever, beach wedding or not. It’s one-shouldered, the thin strap lined with flowers. It has ruching to the right side, the side which the shoulder strap is. The train is short, and prefect for the beach. Rushing over to the dress, I unzip it and slip it on before anyone can help me. Maritza zips it up and laughs at my eagerness. I ignore her and move in front of the massive mirror; I smile. This is the dress, and I know it. The body-hugging dress with flowers? This dress, that dress; they’re, it is, the dress I am going to wear when I get married to Zayn in two months.
“This dress. This is the one, guys. This is the one I’m going to wear.”
~*~*~
“So, love, what did you do today?” Zayn asks me in his sexy and gravelly voice. I smile softly at him before sitting down on our brown couch, teasing him. After a few minutes and his smoldering look, I give in.
“We went dress shopping and I got the dress, but you can’t see it, because I’ve asked Maritza to hide it for me. You can’t see the dress before the wedding!” Zayn rolls his eyes at me and I poke his stomach. “No, I seriously hid it from you. But what I can tell you is the theme--”
“Is beach, I know, Clia and Pat told me when they visited the boys in the afternoon. Just so you know, my tux is all rented and our colors for the wedding are lavander and gold. Julianna, I might sound like a pansy, but I’m really excited. I can’t wait to call you mine, not just with our hearts, but by law. I love you so much, I just want everyone to know that.” I lean into his shoulder, and breath in his scent.
“I know, Zayn. Because I feel the same way, even though I don’t always show it. I’m sorry baby, but sometimes I just forget it’s alright for me to act natural. I don’t know… But I want this to happen, so I don’t have to remind myself that you’re mine and I’m yours. Alright?” I nestle my head farther into his chest and hear him reply with a faint, “alright.” I smile, and let myself fall asleep. Who knew shopping could get you tired?