Page 47 of The Proposal Pact
Knock, knock.
This is an idiotic idea.
Knock, knock.
What am I even doing here?
Knock, knock.
No, I’m not here because I like her. Quite the opposite, actually.
Knock, knock.
But what’s the alternative? Enduring their schemes until I die? Hell, no. I’m not falling prey to those love vultures.
If only she’d bother to open this damn door, but there’s no answer, so I try again and again and again. After a solid tenminutes, I hear feet shuffling and a loud groan coming from behind the brand-new door that could only belong to my little menace. “Whoever you are over there, you better be freaking dying, I swear.”
A disheveled Sophie swings the door open, rubbing sleep out of her eyes with a confused frown, and then before I can say anything she swings it back and forth as if testing it. “Huh, it’s not broken. So, you do know how to knock?”
That little…I stomp out the urge to smile, my eyes taking her in that oversized jersey I first saw her in, and the words just spill out of me.
“Marry me.”
Sophie sways on her feet slightly, unblinking.
Okay, so this is not how I was originally planning to do it, but whatever. Best get this out of the way as soon as possible.
Sophie blinks a few times and then her hand reaches out to touch me. I swivel out of her way, so she can’t reach me. “What are you doing?”
“Shh, don’t move.” She goes for it again, and this time—for some reason—I stay unmoving, allowing her small, soft hand on my chest then on my cheek. I even stay still when she pokes my stomach and pulls on my hair, standing on her tippy-toes to reach it.
“Huh, either Willa’s drinks are that good or you’re really not a mirage,” she finally concludes, and I roll my eyes, taking her hand off me.
“So?”
“So, what?” She draws her eyebrows.
“Will you marry me?”
“Shrek, are you drunk this time, because I can take you to my cell. That bench in there isn’t so bad.” She leans in sniffing me.
“Jesus, no, I’m not drunk.”
“High then?”
“Funny,” I deadpan.
“Actually, it is, and I’m sorry, but I have a headache and not in the mood for jokes at the moment.” Sophie starts to close the door in my face, but I slap my hand against it, stopping her.
“I’m not joking.”
She blinks for a few seconds, watching me and then shrieks, “You want to marry me?Ouch.” She winces right away from her own volume, covering her head with both of her hands.
“Jesus.” Pushing her slightly out of the way, I step inside the apartment, shutting the door behind me before half of the Loverly Cave will know what we are doing here.
I grab both her shoulders, guiding her to the couch as I try really hard to ignore the very short jersey that barely covers her ass. Again.
Lifting my eyes up from said ass, I take in the apartment that somehow looks completely different than it did a week ago. Where there used to be white or gray walls and ceilings are now shades of pastel pink, green and yellow. Her windows are partially closed with velvet curtains in that screaming pink color I think they call fuchsia.
