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It was just another typically chaotic day in the life of the dazzling Lana Wolf. Morning sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows, glinting off half-empty glasses and dirty plates, reminding
her of last night's festivities. With a soft sigh, the
blonde lady moves from the table to sink, clearing plates with the kind of tired grace that came from hosting one party too many.
Her feet ached,
her back protested, and yet there was something almost comforting about the quiet house after a night full of music and laughter. As Lana cleans the table,
she replays the moments from the party.
Her friends dancing, the lively chatter, the warmth of having people
she cared about under one roof. But beneath all that
joy, a little ache grows within
her. Lana had watched everyone pair off in conversations, share inside jokes, and lean against each other with the ease of long-held closeness last night. Meanwhile, the curvy
woman had floated from group to group, smiling, laughing, hosting, yet somehow still feeling like the only person standing in the doorway of
her own party. And then there was Dean Van Damme. Just thinking of
him made Lana smile as an idea slipped through
her.
Her charming
friend with a smile that always reaches
his eyes is exactly what
she needs right now. As
she set the last dish in the sink, an idea flickered. Maybe Lana didn't have to wait for the universe to align things for
her. Maybe
she can make the
first move gently, casually, and safely. So
she reaches for
her phone. Lana starts to invite
him over, under the perfectly innocent excuse of needing
help with the so-called "mess" from the party. But the truth hummed quietly beneath
her ribs.
She simply wanted to see
him. And maybe
he wanted to see
her, too.
