𝐓oo many years have passed, weeks & months, where Lara could've right-ed her wrongs. She takes full responsibility, through chattering teeth, and mistaken identities. Through it all, the excessive partying, vowing to never lose one another, [REGARDLESS OF AFFAIRS + INFIDELITY: Nothing would tear them apart. Here she stands, on a manicured lawn, the same care & attention she runs from, bestowed upon 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚢 as if its importance outshines 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝚃𝖔𝖒𝖇 𝕽𝖆𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖗. If you were to ask Lara her opinion, on who the blonde would choose ─ between an old friend or the appearance of nicety, *she'd hiss in response. The answer too stinging to say. Whichever side of the bed is to blame, she's woken with a taste for vengeance, or surprise ... [WHATEVER STIRS UP THE NEWEST SUBURBAN SCANDAL.]
@amyssing: [EXT.] – A SUBURBAN BACKYARD DURING A BARBECUE.
𝕭ony digits are lifting her neckline, the deep cut being a nuisance. She has opted for a dress, in spirit of the occasion, dressing exquisitely for a party she isn't (invited to. [LIPS ARE PAINTED NUDE, toned yet slender frame home to slinky fabric, skin-tight, & all-embracing. With a swift push, she's entering a home she's never seen, yet its interior still has its marks of familiarity. Whatever Amy has touched, Lara could recognise from a mile away. Years of friendship will do that for you. Fading years of companionship, sisterhood, & choosing one another.
YET, WHAT ABOUT THE UGLINESS OF FORGETTING ONE ANOTHER?
𝙸n her right hand, she's holding a bottle of Chardonnay. She hates the stuff, but it's a manifestation of an inside joke ... [A PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE, teeny - tiny reminder for the blonde: that Lara once knew her inside-out. She finds the entrance to her backyard, and assesses her audience, a moment of regret seeping into her underbelly. That is, until, she sees her victim. A smile creeps onto lips, devious & slow. Voice raspy, likely due to her stress-smoking twenty minutes before. Revelling in her victory, Lara traces the edge of her tongue on front two teeth, her smile now turning into mush.
" You should see your face, Ames'. You look like you've seen a ghost. "