You both knew it was bad. Over the past two months you’d seen each other a total of five times. Which may seem like a lot- but it really wasn’t.
Is it possible to crave another person? To just want to be with them and never have to worry about when the flight leaves. When the car is supposed to be there. If someone comes and interrupts. He’s never there for long at all- always having to leave to work on something else.
You crave him. His smell, which you hate to admit you’d become addicted too. His laugh that is always so contagious, even if you’ve done something completely embarrassing to merit it. His smile can make you self-conscious, but it always reassures that everything is wonderful.
His voice lulls you into peace, he always speaks his mind with you. That crazy hair that changes every time you see him. His bright eyes- you can’t help but notice they get lighter when they see you. His hands that grip your waist when you dance.
You miss him. More than anything.
So much so, that it’s painful.
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Music drifts lazily and quietly down the stone pathway Tom had led you away to. The garden party was pleasant enough, especially underneath the stars. This was one of those times when you could be with him, without fear of impending interruptions. Just you and Tom and the lightning bugs that careened around trees and over the grass.
The hostess had taken wonderful care of her garden. It being night out, you could easily get lost if it weren’t for the deep yellow lanterns placed in the right spaces. A small pond was centered in the middle of the huge expanse, and this was where Tom had taken you. Lanterns on the other side gleamed in the water, the stars reflecting so gracefully- like it was their job.
He lets your hand drop from his, while you finish recounting your tale about Cora’s newest plights. You continue to walk closer to the water, and he just stands, listening.
“My cousin has never squealed that loud in all her life,” you laugh, turning back to look at him, lavender dress swishing with ease against your knees.
The moon lights his face softly, eyes glistening as they’re staring back at you.
You hear the water lapping on the small rocky shore, crickets chirping in the bushes. It’s still outside, a breeze barely sifting through the trees.
“Jo,” he starts, staring at you intently. All hint of a smile went away.
“Yeah?”
He pauses, hesitating. You notice that his right hand is shaking, and immediately you want to know if something is wrong- is he okay? He’d been acting funny all night. He just seemed uninterested in everything that was said and done at the party, even dancing didn’t seem to make him loosen up like old Tom.
He closes the distance between you, shaky hand brushing down your cheek. His eyes lock with yours, although you see the fear there- the desperation in his breathing.
“I can’t do this anymore,” he leans and whispers in your ear. Instead of it making you shiver with warmth, the words still in your blood. They scare you, utterly terrify your mind.
You feel the desire to gag. But that’s impossible, because everything is caught in your throat. This insane man has dominated your life and you can’t imagine any sort of recognizable future without him, and you desperately want to know why.
Why has he been able to take hold of you so easily?
The first day that you met; he’d already planted a seed with that smile he gave so selflessly- he was just so happy and excited to meet you. And you told yourself before you even met him, that this was going to be the job that made your career- you wouldn’t allow yourself to become distracted.
But you became distracted, in one of the most beautiful ways.
It’s not as if you could keep this from happening, especially when he was in your sight 90% of the time at work. So you became attracted to the way that he spoke so kindly with everyone, or how he’d listen- even if what the other person had to say was incredibly boring.
It almost made you sick, thinking about how disgusting you were being. You had no right to glom onto another person like this without their permission; it was like that portion of your brain was switched off the moment he came through that trailer door humming “It’s Friday I’m in Love.”
And now?
Now it threatened to come crashing down on you.
Because he may be able to drop you like a hat, but there was no way in the world that you’d be able to let him go that easily.
“Tom. What are you saying?” You attempt to keep yourself steady- to show no sign of disappointment or the undeniable fear.
His arms wrap around your waist, before he buries your head underneath his chin. You hear crickets chirping, his soft breathing. You can feel his erratic heartbeat through his suit.
He’s quiet, and remains that way for what feels like hours, yet only stood out as a matter of seconds.
“I love you,” he whispers, and you wonder how he can say that so calmly when you know what he’s about to do. How he can even stand here, holding you, and say this when he’s about to-
You don’t even want to think about the inevitable.
“… And it’s killing me that we’re apart so much,” he continues, his grip tightening. You force yourself to hold on to this last time you’ll have him.
“I need you-“ He stops.
Like the epiphany of the meaning of life has dawned upon him, and he’s so shell-shocked that he doesn’t know what to say.
He straightens, and you see the look of pure wonder captivated in those gorgeous eyes. They’re staring right back into yours, wanting you to realize and come to terms with what he’d just thought up.
“It’s so simple,” he whispers, almost like it wasn’t meant for you to hear, “Completely elementary this entire time.”
You don’t say a word, instead focused on the odd words and his fingers around your waist.
“Joanna Elise McCallister,” he begins, tone louder, voice playful- you suddenly see that he’s isn’t leaving you.
That --in and of itself-- has you relieved beyond belief.
“Yes?” You manage.
“I could never imagine not spending a day with you, my love,” he grins and leans in to brush his nose against yours.
Your eyes drift closed, involuntarily, “Mmm?”
His fingers drop from you, his breath leaves your face, the warmth disappears.
You silently pray that you’re not dreaming.
Slowly, reopening your eyes to see where he’d gotten off to, you see his curly head of hair bent low… on one knee.
That shaky right hand is now holding a velvet box and has never trembled so much. You know exactly what you have to do to make it stop.
“Joanna,” he swallows hard, eyes meeting yours, “Would you-“
Blurry vision, rapid heartbeat, chill bumps.
He’s so nervous.
His deep intake of breath, and then…
“Would you be my wife?”
You’re not sure if you can get a breath to answer him. Tears start spilling over and your smile beams through them, head nodding quickly before dropping to the ground and wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him there.
“Yes,” you squeak, pressing your lips to his and savoring how he tastes and how it won’t end.
He’s laughing, on the side of completely giggling, through his lips.
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It’s later, after he’s driving you home, that you realize that you haven’t even thought about the ring he slipped onto your finger.
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