Page 158 of Dating Goals
"Excuse me," Anika says to the uniformed woman. "My boyfriend has done something very stupid. You see, I thought that mailbox over there was a trash and?—"
The meter maid looks up, unimpressed. "Ma'am, I can only help with parking violations."
She walks away shaking her head.
I turn back to the postal box, examining it from every angle. The mail slot stares back, mocking me. "There's got to be a way to get it out."
I attempt to slide my arm through the narrow opening, but it's hopeless. My bicep won't fit past my elbow. "Too small. I'm stuck with my hockey player build."
A woman pushing a stroller slows down to stare at us. I can't blame her. I'm practically hugging the postal box while Anika paces in small circles.
"Let me try." Anika pushes me aside, flexing her fingers. Her slender arm disappears into the slot up to her shoulder, her face pressed against the metal. "I can't reach the bottom."
She withdraws her arm, now covered in postal grime. "We need something long and grabby."
"Long and grabby?" I repeat. "Like what?"
"I don't know! One of those claw machines from the arcade?" She snaps her fingers. "Where’s your spy watch?"
"I returned it. The FIS was very insistent about getting their toys back."
Anika purses her lips. "So what do we do? Call a locksmith? The fire department? Break into it with a crowbar?"
"Let's not add felony charges to our day."
We stare at each other for a moment before Anika bursts into laughter, doubling over with her arms wrapped around her stomach.
"It's not funny," I protest, but her laughter is contagious and soon I'm smiling despite myself.
"It's very funny," she gasps between laughs. "It's the most Griffin thing ever."
Her laughter echoes down the street, bright and clear. I watch her with ice cream smudged at the corner of her mouth and marvel once again at how a bathroom break changed everything.
"Love you," I say simply.
Anika's eyes soften. "I love you too.”
We grin at each other like idiots. Six months together, and my heart still hammers whenever she smiles at me.
"We need to get it back," she says, suddenly serious. She marches up to the mailbox and peers through the slot. "I can't see anything."
"The collection times are listed on the box. Maybe we can intercept the mail carrier?"
She circles the mailbox, testing its weight and stability. "Can we tip it over?"
"It's bolted to the ground," I say, tugging futilely at one corner. "And tampering with mail is a federal offense."
I pace in front of the mailbox, weighing my options.
"You know," Anika says casually. "If you still want to propose today, you don't need a ring."
I stop pacing. "What?"
"The ring is a symbol. Nice, but not necessary." She shrugs. "I would have said yes anyway."
My heart thunders in my chest. "Would have?"
"Will." She smiles. "When you ask properly."
