"You see," Michael goes on, "tonight isn't just New Year's Eve. It's the fourth anniversary for Audrey and me. It's a special night, one we usually celebrate by ourselves, so you're probably wondering why I invited you all here to share in the night with us. I mean, other than the fact that we adore your company."
He flashes his smile at the room and some people chuckle. Lame asses.
"Well," he says, "I have an explanation. But it's not for you. It's for my shining star. My beautiful Audrey Bear." He gestures to me, and I swear I can hear the sound of thirty heads swiveling at once.
I don't know how I paste a smile on my face, but I do, even though the room is starting to spin and my head feels like it's being put through an acidic spin cycle.
This isn't going to end well.
Then, to my complete surprise, he steps away from the lectern, the microphone going with him. strumming his guitar he begins to sing.
Sing.
" You're my best friend
No, I didn't stutter 'til the day end," he croons, wiggling his brow even as a drop of sweat rolls down. " Through heaven and high water
Ooh, it kills me not to tell you."
Holy fuck. Is he singing "Best Friend " by His band 5 Seconds Of Summer?
Michael comes closer, gliding toward me like he's rehearsed this a thousand times, and then it occurs to me that it's Michael, of course he's rehearsed this a thousand times—he rehearses what he says to his parents before we roll up to their house every Sunday dinner.
'me standing in the middle of what looks to be an epic proposal to a man that I love but do I want to marry. Michael Clifford the man of my dreams . He's the man that most women want for themselves. He's smart, wealthy, sophisticated, loyal, good-looking, and kind. He's the reason my mother looks at me with less disappointment, he's the reason I'm treated with more respect by our peers, why we can get reservations at any restaurant, why I know I don't have to work a day in my life if that's what I choose. He's the reason I should be about to break down in happy tears, overwhelmed with joy over the life we're about to spend together, that he's picking me, Audrey Jane Parker , over everyone else. He's picking the weirdo with her secret hopes and dreams.
Michael drops to both knees and actually slides toward me, microphone crammed dramatically against his mouth as he leans back, eyes closed, and belts, "Oh, Drey! You came and you gave without taking!"
He finishes the song on his knees, down by my feet, and when it's over and the music turns off and the room comes to a hush, I know he's not getting back up.
This is happening.
He grabs my hand and he just stares at me.
"Audrey Jane Parker ," he says to me into the microphone, "When I first met you, you were this strange, strange girl with your glasses and your nose in a book, always reading on the sidelines or spending hours in the library." There are a few titters in the crowd, everyone clearly picturing that girl. "You had this ability to talk about characters in books and TV shows and movies like they were real, like they were your friends. You could spout random knowledge about trees and animals and countries like your brain housed an encyclopedia. I didn't know what to do with someone like you, but I was charmed by the beauty beneath your brains."
Surely he means the brains behind my beauty?
