Page 100 of Just Friends

With that one stupid smile, I know he’s winning this argument, even though he’s wrong. The woman looks caught up in the snare that is Alexander Malcolm Bates, and I simultaneously want to laugh and strangle him for it.

The woman’s eyes flick to me for one second before fixing back on Alex. “I think spots,” she says slowly, and Alex’s grin widens, his eyes lighting up in triumph.

The look I give him in return is withering, and this makes his smile deepen, the lines at the corners of his eyes blinking to life. I should be angry at him, but instead, I’m breathless, my heart squeezing tight like a vise in my chest. Sometimes when he looks at me like that, I don’t know how we got here, how I ever found him, and it makes me grateful for all the terrible experiences before him that led to this moment of pure, undiluted happiness.

Alex’s hand slides around my waist, squeezing with the barest amount of pressure, the kind that would have me leaning in to kiss him if we weren’t in a gas station, a stranger’s eyes watching our every move.

“That was unfair, and you know it,” I say as we walk out of the gas station, Alex lagging behind me. “You did that ridiculous smile that’s irresistible. You could have asked her if the sky was brown, and she would have agreed with you.”

“Hazel,” Alex says, and his voice is different, not the teasing I expected, but something more soft and serious.

I spin on my heel, but he’s not right behind me like I expected. He’s a few feet back, halfway between the doors and the car, right in the middle of the parking lot. And he’s on one knee, his milkshake on the ground next to him.

The smile is back on his face, but this one is different, more gentle and full of adoration. So tender it makes me ache. “Last year at the lake house, you asked me how long I’ve loved you.”

My heartbeat dies, and my breath hitches.

“I didn’t tell you,” he continues.

It’s true, and I finally gave up asking after he refused to tell me for months. Instead, I came up with elaborate stories, like we were at a masquerade ball and I lost my shoe, so he carried me out to his horse-drawn carriage, and we took it through the ice cream shop’s drive-thru. As he wiped ice cream off my bottom lip,thatwas when he knew. Every time I would come up with one of these ridiculous tales, Alex would play along, adding details, until the actual moment he knew didn’t seem to matter so much. All that was really important was that hedidknow, and I did too, and we were happy.

“It was here,” he says, not looking away from my eyes, and I think I see silver lining his, peeking over the edges to fall down his cheeks. “We stopped here for milkshakes one day. I don’t even know where we were going, but it was soon after you moved here. You were so sad then.” His voice wavers, like the memory is both treasured and painful for him, and although I can’t recall it, I know what he’s talking about, can still perfectly imagine that fog of sadness that hung over me for months.

“But we were out somewhere, and you saw something that reminded you of Sebastian, and I just…I wanted to make that haunted look disappear from your eyes. So I pulled over right here and told you we were getting something sweet.”

The memory takes shape in my mind, although the details are as hazy as mist.

“You got peanut butter cup, and I got cotton candy, and you told me that cotton candy ice cream is gross,” he says, his lips twitching. “And when we came back outside, you were smiling. You looked at me over your shoulder and said you’d like to eat ice cream with me forever.” This all comes out in a rush, and when he stops, he lets out a breath, his eyes locked on mine. “And that was the moment I knew.”

There’s still so much space between us, and he suddenly looks so earnest and sincere, there on his knee in the middle of the parking lot, vulnerability written in every line of his face. My feet propel me forward, closing the distance between us.

When I’m close enough, Alex takes my milkshake from my hands, setting it on the ground next to his. The melting ice cream glistens in the sun. His right hand slides around my left, holding my fingers.

There’s still tears in his eyes, and that devastating smile plays on his lips as he says in the most professional tone he can muster, “You’re probably wondering why I’ve brought you here today.”

A tear-choked laugh bubbles out of me, and I press my free hand to my mouth.

Without letting go of my hand, he reaches into his back pocket. The moment stretches, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Alex’s eyes widen slightly, and he drops my hand, pushing to his feet. He pats both of his back pockets before moving to the front.

“Alex,” I say slowly when his searching becomes more frantic.

But then he smiles, one side of his mouth tipping up before the other, and pulls something from his back pocket. “Just messing.”

His hand opens, and nestled in his palm is a gold ring, its diamonds refracting with sunlight, sending rainbows of color all over us.

My eyes dart up from the ring to his face. His eyes are glimmering brighter than the ring, his grin wide and heart-stopping.

“What do you say, Haze, want to eat ice cream with me forever?”

Tears are falling unchecked down my face, and Alex reaches up with his free hand to wipe them away., There is such reverence in the gesture that an ache builds inside me, the kind you get when everything is so good it doesn’t feel real.

But he’s real, and he always has been. My best friend, although he was always more than just that, even when I didn’t know it.

It makes it easier than breathing to say, “Yes.”

“Youknow,”Momsays,meeting my eyes in the mirror from over my shoulder. “There’s no shotgun.”

I roll my eyes. “I’mnotpregnant, Mom. How many times do I have to say that?”

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