Short Story Collection

1. Proposal Perfection

Chapter 1 - If you don't have a plan, nothing can go wrong

"This is starting to feel a lot like our first date," I grunt, tilting my head back to look at the clouds caking together in a spitefully threatening way above the beach. Fat raindrops splash into my face, making me regret the decision to move out of our cover and look up.

I have Willow cornered against a wall under the canopy of a closed ice cream booth. Well, cornered is probably not the right word since I'm trying to protect her from the rain, not eat her alive. She does smell good enough to eat, though. Vanilla and something reminding me of dusky roses.

She always has the best aromas.

"Why?" she asks, frowning up at me when I gaze down at her, following the delicate curve of her nose and her slightly pouty lips, which I know by now are the most amazing things to kiss.

"The rain..."

"It wasn't raining on our first date," she says. "You gave me a ride on your motorcycle. It was my first time, and I was truly terrified, despite the fact that holding onto you felt rather good," she smiles, blushing. Her smile fades, a frown creeping across her brow when she sees the look, I'm giving her.

"That was not a date, Missy! That was the day after we met, and I was giving you a ride to school."

"Hmm," she says, smiling. "You're right; our first date was a couple of days later when we got tangled up together and rolled around on the beach, and your dude started to act up and-"

"Missy, that was not a date either! That was... an accident..."

She's grinning at me now, and I finally realise that she's messing with me.

"Of course, I remember our first date, Hunter," she sighs dreamily, reaching up to touch my cheek.

"I swear, if you now tell me it's that time when you accidentally ate drugged cookies, called me Hun-Hun and had a weird taste test of almost all our male friends, I'm dumping you in the rain."

She giggles, wrapping her arms around my waist and nestling into my chest.

"Every moment with you feels like a date," she murmurs.

Great, now is the right time!

I have my grandmother's ring in the pocket of my light jacket; the beach is deserted... for now... and the rain is easing up to a gentle drizzle. Perfect! Willow doesn't like big productions or drawing too much attention to herself. We're barely visible here in the shelter of the ice cream booth, and yet the setting is completely romantic with seagulls, misty skies, and fresh air; the works.

When she slips her arms from around me, I wrestle the small jewellery box from my pocket, drop to one knee, open it and gaze up into... the smiling face of Bobo, the clown, plastered against the wall - where Willow was standing a second ago - advertising the cherry-choc deluxe cone, the latest speciality of Ice Cream and Stuff. I love ice cream, but really not this much.

"Awesome!"

Willow is darting away over the wet sand to the water's edge, enjoying the misty rain. She is giggling and twirling, the skirt of her dress whipping around her thighs in abandonment. She is so friggin' gorgeous. Looking at her always feels like a physical attack. I lose my breath and at least half my brain cells whenever I see her.

I cannot believe that almost seven years have passed since I saw her standing in the foyer of my parents' house, looking like Little Bo Peep who got lost while searching for her sheep, with her floral dress, her pink cardigan and those ridiculous ballet-style shoes of hers.