The Surprise Proposal

The Suprise Proposal

Things are simpler now, but this was the most complicated time of my life.

"Okay, okay, you got this!" I button my shirt while attempting to hype myself up in the defogging mirror. "All you have to do is be honest. She loves honesty, as long as it's not too honest." The doorbell rings, sending chills throughout my whole body.

BING. My phone goes off; it's a text from Mona.

Here, let me in :p.

A gentle series of rapid knocks on the door follows this.

I pinch my eyes in agony and head towards the door, mumbling to myself, "I love you, you're great, I just think— um, I know we've been dating for seven years— I think we should." Shaking my head, unable to decide on the words to use, I pocket the mental conversation for later.

I take a deep breath and then turn the door handle.

Behind the polished oak door is Mona, my high-school sweetheart, in a bright red dress, which makes my heart skip a beat.

"Heyyy, Eat-in," she says with a wink.

God, I hate that stupid nickname.

"Hi. Wow, you look— there aren't even words," I reply, with a slightly forced smile. My blood pressure starts to skyrocket. I feel my cheeks begin to rosy up; this might be harder than I thought it was going to be.

"You're such a kiss-ass." She flashes an overconfident smile and tosses her hair over her shoulder. "You would be more impressed if you saw what I started with."

"Wish I could have been there." I grab my jacket from off the hanger.

"You could be next time if we finally moved in together."

"So, how was your day?" I ask, changing the subject.

***

The simple conversations have run out and now we sit across from each other, eating our food in a busy Italian restaurant. Well, I'm eating— she's diving into it as if it's her last meal. She smacks her lips together, slurping up one pasta noodle at a time at an impressive speed. I turn my attention to my plate, where I chase an olive around the salad. Unfortunately, this doesn't distract me from being turned off by my recently developed pet peeve or the conversation I'm struggling to bring up.

SMACK, smack!

"Are you okay?" Small particles of food spray from her mouth as she talks.

Recently, it's like everything she does is a mosquito bite or a continuous flick on the back of the head.

"Yes. No, I'm just nervous."

"About what?" She wipes the corner of her mouth with her arm and I shudder. "Oh my god, are you finally going to ask me to move in?"

"Not exactly, maybe we should save this for.—" I'm cut off by a waiter.

"Good evening, are you enjoying your food?" He asks. Holding a plate with a cheesecake on it.

"Yes, thank you," we both reply.

"Jinx," she says with a laugh; I give a half-smile in return.

"Here is your dessert!" The waiter says. He places the cheesecake down on the table. He gives me a small wink and I'm not sure what to make of it. Mona is giddy. Cheesecake is her favorite.

"I didn't order this," I say. I wouldn't have on this occasion. You don't break up with someone while they dive into a cheesecake; that would be inhumane. Mona readies her knife and fork.