Chapter Three Alex
“Proposals shouldn’t be so hard,” I complain, stretching my arms across the table and resting my head on one.
After the third or fourth shot, Euan ordered us a couple of cocktails instead and suggested we move to one of the booths.
They offered more privacy, the perfect environment for two depressed men to pour out their woes.
“All you should have to say is ‘will you marry me’ and then they say—”
“Yes,” Euan replies, his mouth twisting into a smile.
My heart skips a beat, and I can’t look away from his firm lips. I’ve found myself watching them more than I probably should. Maybe it’s because of his dark, neat beard. It’s hard to see anything else when it so perfectly frames them.
Well, that’s not true. I can also see the solid line of his jaw under the beard.
The prominence of his Adam’s apple bobbing every time he takes a drink.
The breadth of his shoulders. When we’d both stood up, I could tell he was a few inches taller than me.
If he tilted his chin just right, he could rest it on top of my head.
He’s looking at me expectantly, his eyes so dark they’re almost black in the low light.
I lick my lips, tasting the lingering sweetness from the most recent cocktail, which I can’t even remember the name of. I like sweet things. I’d be a fucking fool to not understand he was coming onto me. And an even bigger fool if I didn’t take this chance.
That’s what you do after a bad breakup, right? Get drunk and find solace in the nearest warm body.
Alright, so I’ve never actually had a one-night stand before, but it’s certainly what my friends did.
Though I don’t think any of them have ever broken up with someone at dinner and then found someone new that night.
I should give myself time to mourn my failed relationship before jumping into bed with the first attractive person who pays attention to me.
Especially since it’s been almost nine years since I last slept with a man.
I finally break eye-contact with him, determined to keep this … not platonic, exactly. But there’s no need to throw myself at him.
“So, she turned down your proposal,” Euan says, prompting a return to our conversation.
I nod, rubbing my head against my arm, probably messing my curls up further. At this rate, they’ll be standing straight up by the end of the night. “Yeah. Well, no. But also yeah.”
He arches an eyebrow and sips his drink carefully. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make fun of my complete non-answer. He just watches and waits.
I sigh deeply, my eyes drooping shut. “I proposed once before, and she turned me down because it wasn’t how she imagined it.
I knew she wanted a public proposal, but those are extra embarrassing.
Because what if someone hears you and they know what you’re doing and they’re secretly hoping for your public humiliation? ”
He hums and agrees, “That’s a lot of pressure.”
“It is. So I did it quietly, in one of our favorite date night places. Except she wasn’t expecting it, so she was wearing casual clothes, and hadn’t gotten her nails done, and we hadn’t ordered anything different from usual to make it special.
So she turned me down and asked me to try again. To put a little more thought into it.”
Like you always do, she’d said with a confident smile.
“How long did it take you to plan the second one?” Euan asks.
“Two weeks. I probably could have done it sooner, but I wanted to practice my speech. Personalize it. Make it special.”
“Because that’s what you wanted or because that’s what she expected?”
I’m quiet for a moment as I consider his words. “I wanted to make her happy, y’know?”
“I know,” he says, so gently that I believe him.
I sigh again. He’s quiet for a long while, and it’s only when I hear a clink next to my head that I realize it’s because he was getting us another drink.
I sit up and blindly reach for the glass, slurping messily from the rim.
A trickle of the peach flavored concoction drips down my chin, dangerously close to staining my shirt.
Euan reaches out and drags his thumb up the line, all the way to my lips.
His finger is calloused, just rough enough to really feel him.
Then he brings his thumb to his mouth and carefully licks off the liquor that had so recently graced my skin.
His tongue peeks out, carefully cleaning the digit.
His dark eyes remain locked on mine the whole time.
Heat pools in my stomach as I watch him. What would it feel like if he licked up the trail directly instead of brushing it away? Warm, wet, confident.
I shift slightly in my seat, embarrassed by my own arousal, and try to remember what we were talking about.
Right, making your partner happy. “I know exactly what she wanted. She works hard, and it’s not easy being in a male-dominated field, even in this day and age.
There are still neanderthals challenging her no matter what she says.
She just wants to come home to someone who’s thought about her needs for a change.
Who anticipates her every desire and fulfills it without her having to say a word. ”
“That’s not very fair toward you,” Euan says.
I blink, not quite sure what he means.
“It’s fine to want the princess treatment, but you aren’t a mind-reader.”
I nod slowly, the motion quickly picking up speed. “Yeah! I’m not! Do you know how long it took me to figure out what kind of sushi she might like? I had to extrapolar—extrapalary—extra … what?” I can’t remember the word. Actually, I can’t remember where I was going with that sentence.
I pick up the cocktail and peer into the glass. Was this one stronger than the others, or is it all catching up to me? Oh well, might as well finish it off. Though that’s easier thought than done. Even after a few gulps, there’s still an inch or two of liquid left in the bottom.
Just as I’m lamenting the lack of alcohol, someone appears next to our booth and yells, “Green Tea shots!” They plop down two shot glasses on the table.
“Dude, I don’t think they’re with our group,” someone says behind them.
“Oh shit, really? Well, I included them in the head count. Drink up!” Then the shot-fairy flutters away to bestow more alcohol upon lucky bar patrons.
Euan picks up his shot glass and clinks it against mine. I certainly won’t complain about a free drink. We tip them back at the same time. It’s sweet and only vaguely resembles green tea.
“’S busy in here,” I say, leaning across Euan to get a better look. The bar was practically empty when we first started drinking. I have no idea when all these people arrived. They’re a sea of bright orange and lime green writhing bodies standing between us and the bar.
Euan’s arm around my waist keeps me upright so I don’t fall out of the booth entirely. It feels so nice to be wrapped up in him, I let him hold onto me longer than I should.
When I finally plop back down in my seat, the room spins a little bit.
I focus on Euan’s face until the spinning slows down to a reasonable tilt.
“Why are you here?” Only after I ask it do I realize the question is kind of rude.
If he’s drinking on his own on a Saturday night, he’s probably as unhappy as I am.
His dark brows pinch together, and he slumps down in his seat. For the first time, he looks as drunk as I feel. “My boyfriend dumped me,” he explains, his lips pressing into a surprisingly childish pout. “He dozin like me.”
“I like you,” I tell him, shifting to lay my head on his shoulder.
His head rests against mine. “I like you too,” he mumbles. His jaw-length hair is dark and soft and smells kind of spicy. I inhale deeply. Is it weird to sniff his hair? Probably, but he can’t really see me doing it anyway.
“Why’d he dump you?” Okay, that question is a lot ruder, but I can’t get my tongue to cooperate to form an apology.
“I dunno,” Euan replies. Then his big body shifts under me.
I sway back and forth until I finally end up leaning against the wall.
For the first time, it occurs to me that it’s a little odd that we’re sitting on the same side of the booth.
That must have happened when he returned with the last drink.
He pulls his phone out and it takes him a few swipes to unlock it.
“Wait, he texted you?” I demand, my mouth falling open in an exaggerated gape. “What a dick!”
“Mmhmm. Didn’t even get to touch his dick.”
I laugh, the sound close to a cackle. For some reason, that’s the funniest shit I’ve ever heard. After a few seconds, he laughs with me, the sound a deep, delicious chuckle. I want to press my head against his chest so I can feel it all the way inside me.
As the laughter fades, his expression becomes more serious. “I jus’,” he begins, missing the T. “Wanna matter to someone.”
Don’t we all. I lay my hand on his arm, stroking it in comfort, then get distracted as I admire his firm muscles.
I don’t know how long I’ve run my fingers up and down the bulge before I remember what I want to say.
“You matter to me,” I tell him. Without him, I would still be drunk, but I wouldn’t be having so much fun.
He gazes at me for a long moment. My hand continues gently stroking his bicep, but he doesn’t notice. Or maybe he likes it, likes having my hands on him. “Propose to me,” he says. “I want to know how it feels.”
I laugh again and fumble through my suit pocket until I find the velvet box.
After Theresa gave the ring back to me, I nestled it safely inside the cursed little box.
I don’t really know if you can return engagement rings, but I still plan to try.
I carefully remove the ring. While I’m sitting in the booth, I can’t get down on one knee—and I’d probably fall over if I tried—so I just hold the ring out to him between my thumb and forefinger.
“Euan—” I pause, realizing I don’t know his last name.
“Blair,” he supplies.
“Euan Blair, will you marry me?” The words are steady, confident in his answer.
“Oh, Alex,” he says with an overdramatic dreamy sigh. “Yes, of course!” Then he holds out his left hand.
His fingers are too thick for the ring. The only one it fits on is his pinky, where it slides easily over the knuckles before sitting snuggly.
The big diamond surrounded by a halo of tiny diamonds looks a little tacky, if I’m honest. Not the type of ring I would have chosen on my own, but since I wasn’t the one wearing it, I stuck to Theresa’s preferences.
Euan raises the ring to his lips and kisses the center stone, heavy-lidded eyes never looking away from me. “You’ve made me the happiest man.”
I grin and take his hand, fiddling with the ring, twisting it idly back and forth. My smile slowly slips away as tears dot my eyes. “I wish that’s how it really went.”
“I wish we were really getting married,” he quips.
And god, not only does he tell the best fucking jokes, but he has the best fucking ideas. “Why not?” I reply. “Lesh get married!”
He hums. I’m not sure if that means ‘I didn’t hear you’, ‘you’re too drunk to make life-changing decisions’, or ‘that’s an excellent idea, you’re so smart, Alex’. Then he cups my cheek. The band of the engagement ring is slightly cool compared to his warm palm. He leans forward slowly.
I can dodge if I want to. I’d probably smack into the wall or fall underneath the table, but it’d be easy enough to escape.
I definitely do not want to.
I meet him in the middle, pressing my lips against his. His tongue slips into my mouth in a careful exploration. My eyes droop shut as I grip the front of his shirt with both hands. Everything else fades away as I melt into him.
And that kiss is the last thing I remember.