Page 48 of The Proposal Pact
The flower-patterned couch Luke and I dragged in here standing proudly in the middle of the room with a million blankets thrown all over it. Two green side tables are on each side of it and a glass coffee table with golden legs in the front of it. And on it is a colorful vase with fresh flowers and what looks to be a day-old sandwich.
The new TV I bought six days ago is right where I left it. In front of the couch, but next to it, is what I can only call a hockey shrine.
Jesus…there are jerseys, hockey sticks, and signed posters all hanging together in this creative mess.
I desperately fight the twitch in my eyes.
Chaos. Pure colorful chaos!
“Sit,” I instruct and go into the kitchen. That’s no better with the freshly painted mint-green cabinets on the bottom and just open wooden shelves, piled with mismatched plates, cups, and glasses on top. Butcher block counters and a pink fridge.
Don’t look, Callum. It’ll be okay. This is all temporary!
Filling up a glass with water, I carry it over to her. “Drink.”
“Bossy,” she grumbles, massaging her temples, but takes a long sip of water before those chocolate brown eyes settle on me. “So, when did this happen?”
“What happened?”
“You, falling in love with me.”
“I’m not in love with you.” My tone’s almost affronted at her statement. I haven’t been in love for so long I wouldn’t know the feeling if it was biting me in my ass. And I don’t want to be, for the record.
“But you want to marry me.”
“No, I don’t want to, I have to.”
“Have to…” She drags out the words. “Who are you? Mother Theresa? Helping all those in need?”
“This is going to be a mutually beneficial agreement. So, are we doing this or what?”
“Oh, gosh, this is the most romantic proposal of my life,” she says in an exaggerated voice. “However could I decline?” Sophie drops the theatrics. “Oh, wait, I can. See you never, Shrek.” She starts to get up, but I snatch her small wrist in my hand, pulling her back down onto the couch.
“Can you just listen, please? I need your help getting Love Hive off my ass.”
Sophie pulls her wrist out of my hold and sits back. I eye it, fighting the urge to snatch it back. To make sure she doesn’t run away, of course. That’s the only reason.
“You needmyhelp?”
“Yes.”
“Did that hurt?” she says after a long pause.
“What?”
“Admitting that you need my help with something? You just seem like one of those macho dudes that never cry and all that.”
I tilt my head up to the ceiling. “I’m already regretting this decision.”
“Don’t evade the question.” Sophie folds her arms across her chest, and I grit my teeth.
Damn it, it did hurt, how did she know that?
And by the smirk in those naughty eyes, I can tell she already knows the answers. “Say it,” she taunts me.
“Fine, I don’t like asking for help, satisfied?”
“For now. Okay, let’s hear it.”
