Part 1

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Layla flaunted her new Louis Vuitton shoes to her friends who squealed excitedly. It was her older sister's wedding in a week. The wedding was the talk of Abuja and it was as if the entire world was waiting to see what Layla will wear since she was the "hot shot" of the family, so to speak.

Her aunties had always complained that she spends their brother's money on "nonsense". The "nonsense" being the newest givenchy bag, the most expensive abayas, the most exotic perfumes and the sort. But she didn't care since her father didn't have a problem with it. Matter of fact, she loved it. The attention, the adoration and the subtle, not so subtle envy. She loved being in the spotlight, being the talk of the town. She was Layla Amin after all . If she wasn't in the spotlight, who would be?

"I can't begin to imagine how stunning you will look 'slay'. And it's not even your wedding! Imagine how you will look on your own wedding day!" Safiyya said as excited as Layla's other friends. Almost everyone called her 'slay' which was a nickname she got from high school because she always "slayed"

Amongst the group, Safiyya has been her friend the longest and she knows her the best. You could say they're best friends .

"oh oh I wanted to tell you, I heard Zarah is throwing a party at "the Bistro" today" Safiyya said scrolling and tapping on her sleek iPhone.

"I doubt. Who dares throw a party in Abuja without inviting Slay and Safiyya?" Layla asked cockily

"You know Zarah doesn't like us, I won't be surprised"

Layla's nose flared a bit then she smiled mischievously. She was going to that party.

****

The Bistro was abuzz with crazy party lights and music so loud it made one feel like puking. All the Abuja under 30 creme de la creme were present. Only person missing was the actual life of the party.

All attention went to Layla as she entered the room. She wore a black spaghetti strap with a thigh high slit. Her make up was done to perfection and her ponytail was swaying elegantly. Boys were whistling and screaming, Layla blew kisses and smiled, enjoying every ounce of the attention .

She scanned the room for Ahmad, her boyfriend of four years. She found him on one of the tables, dancing. Obviously drunk. She shook her head and went to get a drink of her own. She had to give it to Zarah, she knew how to throw a mean party.

"My baby Slay Is in the house make some noise!!!!" Ahmad shouted over the rowdiness. Layla blushed and smiled. She loved Ahmad. He knew exactly how to 'gas her up' just the way she liked. She waved at him as he jumped down the table and made a beeline for her. She looked at Zarah at the cocktail bar, she looked like she was about to combust . Layla smiled maniacally. Zarah has had a crush on Ahmad since middle school but he's had eyes only for Layla and that put them at loggerheads since then.

Ahmad, a tall and slender man with sleepy brown eyes and a jawline that could kill pulled Layla with him to the dance floor after getting another drink of his own. He was wearing faded jeans and a graphic tee shirt that hugged his biceps. Layla was sure he came with a jacket but it was long forgotten.

***

Layla woke up to an arm around her waist and the scent of Ahmad's Dior cologne all over her. She stilled and her heart was going a million per minute. Why was she naked?

"God please no"

She slapped Ahmad on the arm violently, as if to punish him for the atrocity she had just allowed to happen.

"Wake up you halfwit!"
He only murmured until she slapped him again, across the face, with all her might.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He half-yelled, irritated.

Walk Of Shame (On hold)Waar verhalen tot leven komen. Ontdek het nu