Page 60 of Spar
“A while ago. I’ve been holding on to it, waiting for the perfect time.”
“What’s wrong with right now? Seriously, go, right now.” She pointed to the door, waiting for Ryan to pick up the damn box and storm out.”
“I can’t just ask her. It has to be perfect.”
Shaking her head, Tori handed the ring back. “With the choice between having that big rock on her finger now or waiting for some contrived perfect scenario, I’m pretty sure Elle would choose option one.”
Ryan frowned as though he wasn’t convinced. “Ya think?
“I know,” she said, standing and leaving her brother with a twenty-thousand-dollar decision in his hands.
“You definitely needa bigger bed. My feet hang off the end.”
Eyeing his feet dangling off the edge of her white comforter, Chris stroked Tori’s hair as she nuzzled closer to his chest.
“You’re out of luck. A queen won’t fit through the door, and a king-size mattress would take up the entire room.”
“A bed is all you need.”
Flashing him a smile, she pulled away and slipped his t-shirt on over her head. “I’m hungry. Want anything?”
“Oh, I’m hungry alright, but not for anything you got out there.” He crossed his arms behind his head and let his eyes rake over her bare legs and just-fucked, messy hair.
She laughed happily and disappeared out of the bedroom. Sitting up on the bed, Chris grabbed his boxer briefs and tugged them on. He felt like a damn ox in the full-size bed, but it did have one perk — guaranteed body-to-body contact.
Tori returned with a tub of ice cream and two spoons. Tossing a utensil at him, she sat on the bed and held up the Ben & Jerry’s where he could see the label.
“Still like Phish Food?”
“I haven’t had this in forever,” he admitted, digging a spoon into the tub.
They ate in silence, smiling with chocolate-covered lips.
“Ry’s gonna propose,” Tori said, holding the spoon up to her mouth.
“I’m not surprised. He’s been done-for ever since he met Elle. I’m glad.”
“Me too.” She nodded. “He’s worried about making it perfect, in the usual Ryan-Calloway-Type-A-personality way.”
“A proposal deserves to be perfect.”
She shot him a look, raising her eyebrows.
Typical Tori, she never reacted the way he expected. “You don’t think so?”
“I don’t think it’s necessary,” Tori said, wrapping her lips around another big bite of ice cream.
“So, you think he should just toss her the ring over breakfast and say,‘Hey, wanna wear this?’”
She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “Sure, why not?”
“I’m no expert on proposals, but I think they should be a little more thought-out. Besides, from what I’ve heard, you’re in the minority on this. Most women like an elaborate, romantic proposal they can brag about to all their friends.”
“All I’m saying is if I have to choose between a guy walking around with a ring in his pocket for months waiting for some perfect moment or tossing it to me while I eat a bowl of cereal — I pick the second. Buying a ring and giving it to someone is special enough.”
“And what if the guy wants to make it special? It’s not just about the woman.”
“I guess, but I’d still rather have the ring on my finger.”
