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Sawyer gently shut the door of her car and tugged the waistband of her denim miniskirt down, readjusting it to hug her hips. She had been told to be at Tinker Field at five in the evening, so there she was at a quarter to. She's a punctual princess to her core.
Was it because she hated being late? Possibly. Or was it because the jittery nerves were taking control? Oh, most definitely.
It was her and Harry's six-month anniversary, and for some odd reason, he'd kept the plans for tonight a huge secret. She suspected something tight-lipped for a first anniversary, but apparently, celebrating six months was considered special to him. She had no idea what to expect from a man so extravagantly unpredictable.
Sawyer slung her chainmail purse over her shoulder and walked through Tinker Field's entrance gates, a place she'd been to several times to support Harry's team. When the field came into view, it looked empty — no players, no cleaners, no signs of life at all.
Realizing too late that wearing stiletto heels was a terrible mistake, she carefully watched her footing with help from the stadium's floodlights beaming down on the grass and dirt.
Her gaze danced over the rows of seats and stopped at the big screen hanging high. She did a double-take when she saw the pixels glitching erratically. Was that a part of her boyfriend's elaborate plan? Sawyer searched for Harry and quickly found him sitting in the lower section of the bleachers with his chin propped on his fist. From where she stood, she could tell he was pouting.
"What are you doing over there?" she called out with a smile, giddiness swirling in her stomach.
Harry sighed dramatically and stood, tugging on the lapels of his tailored gray suit. So handsome. "The screen was supposed to display something," he said defeatedly. "I don't know why it's glitching."
He looked up at the sky and held an arm out like he was waiting for an answer to drop from above. "Everything's gone wrong."
"It's okay. It's not the end of the world." She waved him over. "Come here and stop sulking."
He huffed and jogged down the bleachers, holding something behind his back. He sauntered the rest of the way, his eyes roving over her. "Woah. Hi, baby. You're stunning."
"So are you."
He couldn't have looked more attractive with his curly hair styled differently than usual and a couple of buttons undone on his white dress shirt. Sawyer couldn't quite believe he was going all out for their six-month anniversary, but he always seemed to exceed her expectations. No one had treated her with such attentiveness before.
Harry bent down to give her a chaste kiss. "The screen was supposed to say 'find me in section 110' because that's the area you always sit in when you come to watch me play, but then it glitched for some reason, and now the—"
"It's fine," Sawyer interrupted consolingly, placing a hand on his bicep. "I promise. I'm sure you have more things planned, right?"
His shoulders slumped, and it genuinely looked like he was going to cry. "I ordered pizza from that restaurant you love, but it's not here yet. I didn't think you'd arrive this early."
"Don't stress about it." She stroked her knuckles over his flushed cheeks. "It'll be here soon, and then we can eat. No worries." She teasingly added, "As long as there's chorizo on it."
"Of course. Chorizo's your favorite." He sadly stared up at the big screen. "But I had all this perfectly planned for weeks," he admitted quietly. "I even rented out the field for us."
"You what?!" Sawyer exclaimed, leaning into him with disbelief.
He tilted his head back and laughed. "Don't act so surprised. You know I'm the moneymaker for this place." Shrugging, he further explained, "I made a couple of calls, pulled a few strings, and now we have the whole stadium to ourselves."
"A stadium to sit in and wait for pizza."
Frowning, Harry buried his face in her neck. "I tried my best," he mumbled, lips tickling her skin.
Sawyer rubbed his back and took the chance to stand on her tiptoes and peer over his shoulder. She smiled softly when she saw a bouquet of red roses clutched in his hand. It was wild to think about all the minuscule things that had changed between them. A year ago, the thought of him kissing her felt impossible. So did renting out an entire stadium for her. Yet somehow, the switch in their dynamic had been so natural that she didn't even second guess the romantic gestures he did for her now.
"I love you," she told him. "Thank you for being so thoughtful every second of the day. You didn't have to do this."
Harry lifted his head and held up the roses. "I love you. You deserve these flowers, this night, the pizza that I'm hoping comes soon because I'm starving... all of it, all the time. Because you deserve the fuckin' world, Sawyer."
She tightly looped her arms around his waist. "You're so sweet to me."
"Careful, careful," he said through a laugh. "These roses are the real deal. They have thorns, and it'd be just my luck if you got pricked."
Resting her chin on his chest, she asked, "Remember when you said you'd still love me if I pushed you off a balcony?"
"Mm-hmm. On New Year's."
"Well, I'd still love you if I got pricked by a million of your roses."
His eyes softened. "That's the strangest thing someone has ever said to me, but also the most romantic."
She kissed his neck. "You're welcome."
His stomach suddenly ruined the tender moment by rumbling lowly. He groaned and said, "Sorry about that."
Sawyer patted his abdomen. "You should call and see where the pizza is."
Harry nodded and took out his Nokia phone, blankly staring at it for a few seconds. "Shit, I forgot the number."
They both laughed and ended up walking laps around the field, talking about whatever came to their minds and stopping occasionally to have a make-out session until the pizza delivery guy interrupted.
