Page 96 of The Proposal Problem

34

Percy

Saturday 4:51 Pm

On one hand, I’m relieved that the paparazzi showed up. I was a hair’s breath away from giving into Anton and my feelings for him.Fuck, that gentle graze of his lips against mine had my knees on the verge of buckling.

But on the other hand, I’m pissed that they showed up and ruined my fucking moment. I was about to give in and succumb to the fairy tale ending where I get to kiss the prince and live happily ever after.

I know that last bit doesn’t really make sense, given how firmly I’m denying my feelings for Anton.

I’m a complicated woman. It’s part of my charm.

Now as a whole, I’m not a big fan of the paparazzi. Far too often they’re just a bunch of sketchy motherfuckers with camera lenses that look more like telescopes. They’re tactless and intrusive.

At least the guys at TMZ are classy.

“Whoa,” I yelp.

Anton is pulling me by the hand down the alleyway and away from the prying eyes of the so-called photojournalists.

In my long and illustrious career—well more of a calling really—as a party girl and professional shit disturber, I’ve had to run a lot in heels.

That shit isn’t easy. At all.

But I’m like Usain Bolt when I need to be. Right now though I’m more like a preteen trying to run in her mother’s heels that are four sizes too big.

The first corner we turn has me tumbling into Anton’s arms with a groan.

Not my finest moment.

He helps me steady myself just in time for the paparazzi to turn the corner after us.

“Tenacious assholes,” I mutter.

We start running down the street like we’re in the middle of one of those Jason Bourne movies. Only we’re running from mildly overweight men with giant cameras shouting questions at us.

We dash across the street—through traffic I might add—like badass action heroes.

Anton looks over his shoulder at me with a smile.

Now let me say that Anton looks fucking sexy regardless of what he is or isn’t wearing or whatever facial expression he has.

It doesn’t matter; the man is sexy.

But when he smiles?

Well fuck me—that’s a whole new level of sexy.

Anton’s smile is one of those smiles that could literally stop traffic which would be useful right now.

It’s charming, endearing, suggestive, mischievous, and infectious all at the same time.

In this man’s long list of weapons in his arsenal, his smile is the most dangerous.

So when he looks at me with that smile as he dodges incoming cars and scooters from crashing into us, I can’t help but smile back.

I don’t want to smile.

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