Disclaimer: No borrowing, buying or stealing without my permission. I've got a mean right hook.
He shifts his feet, biting his lower lip worriedly while trying to keep a normal stance, and failing miserably. He hasn’t done this in a while, and he wonders if he takes other matters for granted too. Maybe, he decides, and it doesn’t surprise him that this didn’t make him feel any better at all.
He glances around, and flicks his gaze at the silver watch on his left wrist, groaning inwardly when he realized it was two minutes past five. Two minutes, and she isn’t here yet.
He should’ve picked her up. Maybe she’s just held up. Maybe she forgot. Maybe she doesn’t want to hurt him anymore and she’s decided that they should just move on. Maybe-
“So sorry I’m late; Diana was distracted by some Gucci bag and insisted on buying it despite the ridiculous price.” She pants slightly as she arrives, her lean figure hiding her unfit self, and she looks at him apologetically. Maybe she really does care.
“It’s alright,” It isn’t, really, but he smiles sincerely anyway and continues. “Let’s go in, then.” They turned back towards the little cafe just a little a ways from the cracked, rarely used road, their fingers interlocking with each other as if they’ve done this forever. It doesn’t feel like forever though, not to him. Maybe it’s been too short a time, and he thinks again.
They turn towards their usual table, hardly noticing the decor of the building anymore, the unclothed, spotless tables, the slightly rickety, comfortable wicker chairs, or the pastel shades on the walls they pass by before settling down in their seats. He sits facing her, like he always does.
“The usual?” It’s the blonde waitress this time. May, he remembers, and then doubts his thoughts. Maybe she’s Joanna.
“Yeah, thanks, Angie.” The sandy-haired woman answered for them, and he’s glad he doesn’t have to say anything then. The waitress smiles and walks off, leaving them on their own like he wants and dreads to be. Menial talk ensues, and he can’t help grinning at her ridiculous exaggerations as she relays her day to him. He finds them endearingly annoying, love-sick fool that he is. He teases, like he’s wont to do, and she rolls her eyes and retorts back.
He merely answers flippantly, when he can’t find a better reply, and rolls his eyes at her smug smirk, inwardly wondering if he could see it tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after the day after-
“Thanks,” she answers Angie, smiling widely at the younger girl who brought them their dishes and tips her, like she always does. The blonde teenager flashes a grin, and walks away, and he can’t help but compare that the gait of the woman before him is much more enticing than the blonde’s bold sashay. Maybe he’s being biased, but he knows:-
He doesn’t really care about that.
They tuck into their food, silent at first, and he savours the tastes in his mouth before his stomach turns to lead and he nearly chokes back his dinner, but he doesn’t and he’s grateful for that. He hopes she doesn’t notice his now-pale face and sweaty, shaky palms, and finally thinks to himself, that it’s best just to get this over with here and now.
“Leah?” He curses that he sounds like a ten-year-old boy, and clears his throat, pointedly ignoring the woman’s questioning stare as she sips from her latte. He knows he’ll get lost in her near-turquoise eyes, and he doesn’t want that; at least, not now. He needs his nonexistent words, and he scrambles to grab them out of the air, before taking a deep breath, gets up from his seat and prays to God she doesn’t make a huge fuss as he embarrasses himself this evening.
“I suck at public speaking, so I’ll be frank. Leah Dahlia Walker, will you marry me?”
She doesn’t move from her seat. He knows it’s over, but his knees are glued and he can’t get up.
Leah helps him up, taking him by the hand and pulling his arm gently before burying her head in his shoulder, and he feels wet tears through his thin shirt. “’Course, silly.”
And he knows he’s the happiest man in the world when she says that.
A/N: So. Criticism? Still trying to explore the boundaries of clicheness and authenticity. =P Meh. Hope you liked, neways. =)
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