Tell Me You Love Me

13| Engaged

Chapter 13: Engaged (Brielle's POV)

My phone is ringing for the third time in the last three minutes and if it doesn't stop, I'm going to throw this nail polish bottle at the wall. I can't even paint my freaking toenails because of him. I answered, putting it on speaker. "What is it, River?" I sang, going back to painting my toenails. 

"What color is the dress, Brielle?" he huffed. 

"I'm not telling you. You can keep asking if you want," I said, smiling to myself. 

He groaned and I heard him shuffling around. "What are you doing?" he asked. 

"Painting my nails." 

"What color?" 

I chuckled, "I'm not telling you anything." 

"Fine," he sighed in defeat. "But black goes with everything, doesn't it?" 

"I don't know, does it? Or does it show that you really don't know me well enough to even guess what color dress I chose?" 

"You chose it? All on your own?" 

"Yes," I said, moving onto my other foot. "And your mom and my mother chose the wedding dress." 

"Can't you just tell me? The engagement is tomorrow night, Bri." 

I froze, staring at the phone. 

"Brielle?" 

"What did you just call me?" 

"Um, Brielle," he cleared his throat. 

"No, before that." 

"Nothing." 

"River," I huffed. 

"Bri." 

I took in a shaky breath. 

"I called you Bri." 

Is he messing with me? Does he think using my nickname that only he would use will make me tell him the color of the dress? 

"What game are you playing at now?" I sighed. 

"I'm not playing any games, what are you talking about?" He clicked his tongue in frustration. 

"Then why are you calling me 'Bri' all of a sudden? You haven't called me that since—" 

"Since we were friends, I know. I just... felt like calling you that," he mumbled. 

"Are you trying to act nice so I tell you the color?" 

"God, not everything I do has a secret agenda or motive, okay? I called you Bri because I wanted to. What about it, Bri?" 

I stared at my phone screen where his name was while the time and duration of our call flashed under it, numbers going up by each second. "You called me to ask the color of the dress and I said I won't tell you. Is there another reason we're still talking?" I questioned. 

"If you don't want to talk to me, can you at least say it? I know you hate me so it won't be a shock," he scoffed in response. 

"I never said I don't want to talk to you," I blurted out, cringing as I processed what I said. 

"Do you want to talk to me then?" 

"No," I said quickly. "I just... want to thank you. You took care of me earlier, before I fell asleep. Thanks." 

"Anytime," he replied. 

Why does it feel like things are already changing between us because of this marriage?