The Silver Fighter | ✓

EXTRA: How John Asked Grace Out. And Nearly Killed Her.

So now that you've heard the entire shitshow story that is the majority of my life, I want to tell you the story of how John and I started dating.

Because I fucking can and no one can stop me.

Try me, bitch.

Holy shit, that was really aggressive. Wow.

Anyway, it was a Saturday afternoon, about a month after the whole Bertinelli thing, and John and I were eating lunch at my dining room table. Why we were at the table instead of the couch or someplace more comfortable, I don't know so don't ask me.

He and I had just had a food fight in the kitchen because somebody threw a handful of shredded cheese at me.

Shocker, it was John. Evil bugger.

We were making pizza from scratch which turned out to be a pretty decent lunch even though the kitchen ended up smelling like burnt shit.

After it was done and we were eating at the table, I was on my fourth and final slice of the...masterpiece, and out of butt-fuck nowhere, John does this shit: he asks me out.

...

THE FUCK.

"Would you go out with me?" He questioned, his voice a tad shaky, most likely from nerves.

Now, to be fair, there had been signs. He had been jittery all morning and he'd been fidgeting more than usual.

Still, his inquiry was so random that it caused me to choke on my FUCKING pizza, leaving me coughing for a good five minutes.

"Grace?" He continued with a worried expression. "Are you okay?"

Now, I wanted to retort something sarcastic like, "No, I just choke on my pizza for fun." But in that moment, the only things I could manage were an eye roll and a nod of my head.

'This arse is trying to kill me on purpose. He knows I like him since I kissed him and he's trying to get back at me. I'm calling it.'

"Hold on, I'm going to go get you some water." He rushed out and hurriedly stood up, but I stopped him with a shake of my head.

I coughed once more, my eyes still burning, and placed my hand on his forearm. "Do you always almost kill people by asking them out?" I asked him with a strained voice.

'I'm going to be tasting pizza sauce and basil for a while after this, aren't I?'

John simply stared at me for a second in silence before his face broke out in a grin and he began to laugh heartily.

"It happens everytime." He told me with a serious enough tone.  "It's a curse, really." He continued just as seriously as before.

I rolled my eyes playfully and mirrored his grinning expression. "And here I was thinking I was special." I replied with a quirked brow, playing along.

All of a sudden, his mood became serious and there was a sincere look in his brown eyes that I had grown to love a lot.

I'm whipped, I know. Piss off.

"That's because you are special." He empathized 'are' as if willing me to believe him. "You're so amazing and special and you always leave me speechless when I see you or talk to you." He rambled on cutely, making my face warm.

'God damn. Why does he have to say these things?'

"You're so strong and you never let anyone get the better of you." He continued to rant, looking away from me and to the kitchen. "You always keep me on my toes and I feel like I'll never be worthy of you. And then you give me a smile or you hug me and then, all of a sudden, everything feels right in the world."