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I startled at the sound of my doorbell, snapping my book closed and discarding it on the coffee table. I peeked through the peephole of my door, seeing a mess of curls and a dark coat. I tossed open the door.
"Hi darling," he grinned, hands behind his back.
"Hi," I said cautiously, letting him come inside from the cold. He was stifling a grin and avoiding my eyes.
"Happy anniversary," he shoved a bouquet of flowers into my hands, giving me a quick peck on the cheek.
"Anniversary?" I laughed, a bit confused. I turned the colourful arrangement in my hands.
"It's, um," he winced, hand behind his head, "It's a hundred days we've been together."
"Is it really?" I gasped, setting the flowers on the kitchen island, "I didn't get you anything."
"You've given me a hundred days," he pulled me into a hug, "That's probably enough, isn't it?"
"I feel bad," I sighed, my cheek pressed against his coat, "A hundred days is a long time."
"Not that long," he cleared his throat, "I'm not trying to make a big deal of it or anything."
"Oh, you're not?" I looked up at him, and he nodded seriously.
"I just thought, well," he looked around the room, "Girls like flowers, and, yeah... You're a girl."
I choked on a laugh, "You want to try again?"
"Yeah, actually," he released me, covering his face with his hands, "What the fuck am I saying."
"Alright, once more," I crossed my arms, and he snatched the flowers, exiting swiftly. I bit my lip, holding in a giggle as he rapped on the door. I opened the door slowly to find him bent on one knee.
"Marry me?" he giggled, holding the flowers out in front of him with his head bowed low.
"Oh my God." I groaned, slamming the door shut. "That one was worse!" I yelled.
"One more chance!" his voice was muffled, but I could easily hear his smile through the door. Three knocks, and I swung open the door with a sigh. He stood, thankfully, with his head tilted to the side, cradling the bouquet.
"Hi," I smiled, leaning my head against the door. He brushed a wind-kissed curl from his forehead.
"My darling," he cooed, grinning. "Can I come in?"
"For a bit," I stepped back, letting his arm brush against mine as he stepped into the entrance. He paused, bending down to kiss me softly. He looked down at me with dark eyes, his thumb tracing the curve of my bottom lip.
"You look beautiful today," he said, stepping away to grab a vase from my kitchen cupboard. He filled it with water, setting the full vase on the counter. I watched him unwrap the flowers from across the kitchen island, covering my permanent grin with my hand. "Just found these laying out in the street on the way here,"
I raised an eyebrow. He placed the flowers in the vase, arranging them carefully.
"Alright, I walked halfway across town and put together this bouquet with the florist. I could tell she didn't like how picky I was being, but I wanted to make sure it was perfect. I've been thinking about these flowers for the entire fucking week."
I bit my cheek, lower lip betraying me.
"Are you crying?" he froze, eyes wide, "Oh God. Don't cry."
"I'm not crying," I sniffled, looking upwards as a tear skipped down my cheek.
"I can go out again," he offered, standing beside me with a cautious hand on my shoulder. I sobbed a laugh.
"I liked it better when you were pretending to propose."
"I can do that!" he dropped to his knee again, taking my hand, "Marry me already, will you?"
I shook with laughter, "Alright."
"I'm so sorry," he shook his head, exasperated, "I'm done with the sincerity. Promise."
"Good," I smiled, swiping at my wet cheeks, "Let's just stick to lying to each other."
