Zap, Wham, Pow, Marriage

7. Girl punches Boy (2.0)

Pic of Leo on Side

Delilah punched me, again.

"Are you going to do this often?  Because I don't think I want to be married to a violent maniac," I informed her with a grin.  She sent me a death glare.  "Come on!  It was just a kiss!  As your betrothed, I think I deserve the occasional kiss.  You are after all, practically forcing me into this marriage."

"When did you become so cheeky?  Forcing you into this marriage!  If anyone is forcing anyone it's your parents.  Who, by the way, I still haven't met.  And you do not deserve an occasional kiss!  Not unles I give you permission, which I do not!" Delilah ranted.  I smiled.  She is adorable when she's angry.  "What are you smiling at?" she asked angrily.  

"You're cute when you're angry," I told her, leaning in and kissing her cheek.  Her mouth dropped open in outrage.

"Did you even hear a word I said, you cocky butt-face?"

"I heard the word kiss," I told her, kissing her softly.  "And I heard marriage."  Another kiss.  Delilah didn't protest this time, but when we pulled away her smile was deviously sweet.

"I also said parents.  As in, let's meet them.  In case you didn't understand that, I want to meet your parents, before my parents get to.  So you have maybe three days until Sunday, which is the barbecue.  I want to meet them before then, so you better get on the phone, betrothed."

Score: Leo - 0  Delilah - 1

If I start off this marriage always losing, I can only imagine how bad my score will be when we've both grown old and have been married for 60 years.

"Go on!  Get off your lazy bum!  You have a phone call to make Mister," Delilah scolded.

"What if I don't wanna?" I asked.  

Minutes later I was in my apartment, calling up my parents, rubbing my newest bruise.

"Hello Mother," I greeted. 

"Leo.  How are you?"

"Fine Mother.  You should be happy to hear I'm getting married.  Just like you wanted," I coldly informed her.

"To whom?" my mother inquired.  Not even a congratulations, that was my mother's style.

"Delilah Livingstone.  She's twenty years old and has a very nice job.  She works with Janie, helping her.  We are getting married by the end of the month, like you requested.  I'll send the power point with the wedding plans to your assistant.  Delilah wants to meet you, and her parents invited you and father to a barbecue on Sunday.  It would be rude to say no of course, so I'll see you there.  Your assistant will recieve the address.  As for meeting Delilah, she wishes to meet before Sunday, will tomorrow work for the two of you?"  I didn't let my mother say anything except yes before I bid her a brief farewell and hung up the phone.  

A phone call with my mother usually succeeds in making me stressed.  I need to relax.  I need.... Delilah.  Her happy, strange, goofy, yet caring personality makes me feel better.  It's only been a month since we met, but I already feel like I know everything there is to know about her, and I know she feels the same with me.  We fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.  Delilah Livingstone is my other half.  Great, now I'm spouting cliches.   

Sighing, I opened my apartment door and walked across the hall.  Rapping shortly on Delilah's door, I leaned against the wood as I waited impatiently for her to open up.  You can imagine my surpise when I was suddenly tumbling backwards through the air, landing with a loud thump, my head at Delilah's feet.