His hand felt natural in mine. I mean, it should. After knowing him for four years and dating for three, we were so in sync that it sometimes confused me when we weren’t together. We had met freshman year of college and become really close. He was one of those friends who you could tell anything to and know he wouldn’t judge you for it. He had asked me out the summer before sophomore year, and the next few years were so much fun. Obviously, we had our fair share of spats; the usual not spending enough time together, flirting with other people, that sort of thing. But throughout it all, we had stayed together. But, as it was nearing the end of first semester of senior year, I started to worry.
What was going to happen to us after college? I didn’t even know for sure what I wanted to do. The past few weeks he had grown distant. We spent time together and talked, but there was something odd. As much as I hated to admit it, I knew he was going to break up with me.
I had gotten ready for our date anxiously. I put on a simple black dress that had long sleeves and a tight pencil skirt that hit an inch above my knee and paired it with a pair of cobalt blue heels. I did my makeup and hair, hoping that it wouldn’t look like I was trying too hard. The knock came at my door and I grabbed my black trench coat and purse and went out my door to meet him.
As we walked down the road to his car, he took my hand. I loved holding his hand. It felt warm and strong and it made me feel safe.
“You look really nice tonight,” he said, not meeting my eyes. I cringed and looked at the ground.
“Thanks. You do, too.” I cast a furtive look at him. He really did look nice. He was wearing black pants, a black dress shirt, a bright blue bow tie, and a black suit jacket. I loved it when he wore bow ties, especially brightly colored ones. The combination of blue and black made his blue eyes pop. I looked back at the ground.
We reached his car and he opened my door, helping me in before closing the door behind me. He walked around the car and got into the driver’s seat. He turned the car on and pulled onto the street. We rode in silence for a few minutes before I turned the radio on and sang along. I never looked at him directly, but I kept stealing glances from the passenger seat. A smile played on his lips as I belted out song after song. After twenty minutes, I was starting to wonder.
“So, where are we going?” I asked.
“It’s, uh, it’s a surprise,” he said, not meeting my gaze.
My face fell. I rolled my eyes and turned to look out the window. We had gone into town and were nearing one of my favorite restaurants. He pulled into a space and turned the car off. He got out and walked around to get my door. He offered me his hand. I took it and stepped out of his car. He was always such a gentleman. He offered me his arm and I slipped my hand through his arm. We walked into the restaurant together.
After being seated, a waiter came to take our drink orders. We sat in silence, sipping ice water. His blue eyes were boring into mine. For the first time all night, a smile graced his face. His strong jaw, hidden beneath black stubble, tensed with the smile. I smiled back; I couldn’t help it. He had one of those infectious smiles.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” I said, slightly taken aback.
“You are amazing. You’re sweet, funny, kind, talented, gorgeous, and I love being with you. I don’t know what we’re going to be doing after we graduate, but I do know one thing I want in my life.”
“That’s not a question. You’re forcing me to ask when you say that,” I said, sassily. He rolled his eyes.
“It’s you. I want you to be in my life. Just…not as my girlfriend.”
My eyes widened and I gasped. A cloud of fog seemed to have fallen over my brain. I couldn’t see straight, I couldn’t breathe, and I couldn’t speak. I could barely hear what he said next.
“I want you to be my wife.”
The cloud lifted. I looked at him in shock. He smiled before getting out of his chair and going down on one knee. He pulled a small box out of his pocket.
“Will you marry me?”