Enamour [boyxboy]

Chapter 15 - The Proposal Pt. II

                  

Chapter 15

The Proposal Pt. II

•Ethan's POV•

I climbed into mom's car, feeling unusual not being in the driver's seat, but in the passenger seat. Zoe tried calling shotgun, but that didn't work out one bit.

"It'll be fun! Trust me," my mom says, starting the car and reversing out of the driveway.

"I have no doubt about that, but I haven't been shopping with you for years. At least it seems that way," I say.

"You mean since you came out?" My mom asks. I stay silent. "Listen, I doubt it'll be any different. If anything, I think it'll be more fun. Besides, nothing's changed anyway; even when you weren't out you would help me pick out the good clothes and give me your honest opinion."

I shrug.

"I just don't want you to go all out on me," I say. "It's just a wedding invite."

"Just a wedding invite?!" My mom says, exasperated. "It is not just a wedding invite. It's a wedding invite by your boyfriend."

I roll my eyes. "He's not my boyfriend. At least, not yet."

My mom says, "well, did you want him to be?"

I sigh. "I mean, yeah obviously, but like, I can't ask him."

My mom just chuckles lightly. "Just wait for him to ask you, then. It won't change anything, trust me."

I can hear Zoe in the back singing: "Ethan and Jake, sitting in the tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g."

I groan, turning around to give Zoe the stink eye. She just chuckles.

- - - - -

"I don't know," Mom says, hmmming and ahhhing the current outfit I have on. I couldn't agree more.

But to be honest, I'm tired and want to go home. Usually, I love shopping. But mom can make it exhausting sometimes. Like this time; shopping for formal clothes that have to be 'perfect'.

It's been at least two hours with absolutely no progress.

I got extra snappy one moment when mom kept fussing around with the shirts and Zoe complained that she was hungry and bored so I threatened to drop her off in one of those pop-up daycare areas in the mall.

She just stuck her tongue out at me and shut up for the next five minutes.

I see my mom shake her head behind me, in the mirror. "Nope," she says. "Next one."

I walk back into the dressing room and take the shirt off, then out on the last one. Which would be the fifth one from this shop alone.

I walk back out of the dressing room into the hallway, the shirt slipped on and buttoned up. I stand in the mirror, mom behind me again looking. She nods after a moment; I agree. This one's more cream colored than white, with small black round buttons, a sharp collar and thick, folded cuffs.

We make our way to the shop counter after I change out of the shirt and back into my casual attire. My eyes widen a little when the cashier names the price as mom goes to pay it, but I don't question it. I forget that my mom has a good paying job often. Especially at times like now.

We're all tired and hungry by now, and sick of Zoe complaining, so we made our way to the food court area of the mall. Zoe already had her heart set on McDonalds, so me and mom followed after her.

Of course, she got a Happy Meal. Surprise, surprise.

Mom asked, while waiting in line for our food to be ready, "what pants is Jake wearing?" There was hint of panic in her voice. She wanted us to match – in some aspect at least. I hadn't thought about it either, honestly.

I pulled my phone out of my jeans pocket, texting Jake: What pants are you wearing to the wedding?

I feel my phone buzz in my hand as we take our seats in the chatter-filled food court. Obviously a text from Jake. It reads: these – followed by a winking face. A moment later an image popped up. My eyes widened slightly.

The image was of Jake, indeed in his pants, which were a washed-grey, with black formal shoes on. But he had no top on. The photo was obviously taken in his full-length mirror, the image cropping above his shoulders off. His six-pack was perfectly visible, and the line of dark hair leading from his naval downwards, to wear the top of his red underwear was poking out above the grey pants.

"Was that Jake?" Mom asks. "What did he say?"

I lock my phone, immediately pocketing it. I clear my throat. "He just said they're grey."

Mom nods. "We can work with that."

- - - - -

We ended up – and by that, I mean I had no say whatsoever, and mom picked out everything – picking a pair of dark blue pants, with black formal shoes, and a matching dark blue suit jacket.

Jake had texted me that he was coming over when I told him we were home finally, and that I have no say in if I even wanted him over. Of course, I didn't mind his company, but still. It seems today I don't have a say.

I had to hurry in changing out of my clothes for the wedding, since I told Jake he can't see them until the day. I was closing the cupboard door after putting my formal clothes away and pulling on a casual shirt when Jake had opened the door after knocking for barely a moment.

"Hoping for your own repeat of yesterday?" I say as I tug the shirt, covering the skin were Jake was hoping it was exposed.

Jake blushes slightly and shrugs sheepishly. "You can't blame me for trying," he says. "Besides, you owe me."

"I owe you now?" I play along.

"Yes," he says. "You owe me. You walked in on me changing. And I sent you that picture today." He adds a wink.

"Is that all?"

He pauses. "You also owe me for that time when . . you know." He scratches the back of his neck, his cheeks going pink.

I blush as well. "And if I'm not ready to . . pay you back?" I ask sheepishly.

"Well, I'm sure I'll be here when you are ready, if you say yes."

I stare at him quizzically. "Say yes to what?" I say slowly.

Jake stares at me for a moment. I stare back at him, looking into those beautiful hazel eyes. Jake takes two steps closer to me, and it looks like he's almost about to drop to one knee right then and there but-

"Will you be my boyfriend?"

Speechless. Butterflies. Silence.

I don't say anything. I just close the remaining space between us, and press my lips against his.