Southern Belle

Ch. 18 Do You Love Me?

"Yes! God, yes!"

My eyes enlarged when I realized that the response didn't come from my mouth—it came from Mel's. After shooting her a well-deserved glare, I smiled softly at Ash, who was currently waiting for an answer to his sucky marriage proposal.

Sad to say it, but yes, it was a terrible way to propose. The ring was not the issue —in fact, I never really cared if I got a huge diamond or not. It bothered me that he proposed to me in a hospital cafeteria full of elderly patients when we were both covered in grime and sweat, and the fact that he completely ignored my personal opinions about marriage. Actually, everything about this current situation wanted to make me rip my hair out.

"Uh...Ash, maybe we shouldn't do this right now," I murmured under my breath. A blush crept up my cheeks as the incident became even more awkward.

His head shook. "No, I want an answer, right here, right now." His blue eyes, now icier, stared right into mine. A look of aggression formed on his face, and he somehow appeared to be meaner.

"Do you seriously want me to reject you in front of a whole crowd of people?" I spat back. As soon as those words were uttered, my hands flew to my mouth to keep in all the other words I had bottled up. 

I can't  believe I just said that aloud! 

"Oh snap!" Nick bellowed while snapping his fingers in a "Z" formation. Obviously, he was just kidding around, but his joke made the vein pop out of Ash's neck.

Gulping, I instantly planted a hand onto his rock-hard chest, pushing him away slightly. He was extremely close to actually hitting Nick, and we were in a cafeteria full of people. On the other hand, if he did beat up Nick (which would be justifiable), we were in a hospital, so he could easily be fixed.

The blond-haired guy's face gradually transformed from a pale peach to a maroon red. His fingers clenched in fists, and he took a step back from me. I assumed my father believed that there was going to be a physical altercation because he was already crouching to pounce on the fight (if there was one).

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" His voice, demanding and shrill, caused all the heads to turn in our direction. A few people inched closer to watch, almost like this was some form of entertainment.

"Don't say that word, youngin'," an elderly woman lectured, as she waved her chestnut can back and forth like it was a flag. Her dark grey hair was swept up in a bun, and the hospital gown was falling off her frail body. She probably was very sick.

"Oh, fuck off!"

An audible gasp escaped my lips as Ash dismissed the old woman rudely. The lady shook her head slightly before retreating back to her seat, about four or five tables away from us. Crossing my hands below my chest, I gave Ash a disapproving what-the-fuck look.

"Jack ass, go into the hallway. Let's talk it out there," I commanded and pointed to the exit leading out of the cafeteria.

"Don't say that word, youngin'," the patient repeated sternly, but we ignored her and awkwardly trudged out of the limelight.

Once we were in the hallway, I silently thanked God for making it almost deserted. The only sounds interrupting the complete silence were the beeps coming from the baby monitors. At first, we stood there leering at each other with our arms crossed. It would have been quite comical if our conversation wasn't so serious.

"Ash, what were you thinking? You know that I don't want to get married young--maybe not even at all. The funny thing is we weren't even officially dating. You completely skipped the dating phase and went straight to the marriage," I hissed, as my hand ran through my tangled mane. I desperately needed to go out of here to take a shower.