Page 11 of The Proposal Problem

“Yes...positive.”

“Well, youmightwanna rethink it,” she says, nodding pointedly at something.

I follow her line of sight, not sure what the fuck she’s on about.

“What?” I ask again, glancing around the bed, “What the fuck, Sammi?”

“Percy, yourhand.”

“What about my—”

I feel all the air in me leave my body.

Oh, fuck.

“Oh, fuck,” I say, aloud this time.

I stand quickly, making a point of holding my hand far from me, like it’s contagious. It may as well be for all it represents.

“What the hell did I do?”

“Percy, don’t freak out,” Mysti advises, her eyes as big as saucers.

Yeah, fucking right.

Wrapped around my finger, shining at me like some kind of evil fucking beacon, is a ring.

Adiamondring.

“Holy shit. Did I get married?” I demand, whipping around wildly to look at each of them.

No one responds, their faces looking just as surprised as mine. And just like that, my head fuck spins.

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