Page 81 of Careless

Out of nowhere, a small stuffed polar bear peeks over the window sill. “Hello, Sorcha. You look so pretty.”

I’m about to scream from someone’s idea of a sick joke until Rian pokes his face in the window, a lopsided grin misplaced on his cheeks.

“Rian, goddamn it. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Well, that wouldn’t have been good. I much prefer you alive,” he jokes and swings a leg over the sill like it's the simplest task in the world.

“Are you drunk?” I ask as he stands tall, pulling me into his arms.

“Not at all.” Then he kisses me with so much passion my knees nearly give out. There’s the slightest hint of beer on his lips, but it's very mild.

He’s right. He’s not drunk, just goofy as hell.

“Who are you and what have you done with the real Rian Walsh?” I tease as he presses a kiss to my cheek, leading his lips up to my temple. He’s being so sweet. It’s so unlike him. Don’t get me wrong. I’m enjoying this affection, but this isn’t how he usually is.

“Would you rather I be an arrogant son of a bitch? I can go back to that if you want.” His tone is lighthearted, and it catches me off guard.

Three days. It will be the anniversary of Judy’s death in three days, and this is the time where he usually becomes a hermit, but there’s no sign of it.

He releases his hold on me and holds up the little polar bear.

Rian knows I have a thing for polar bears. I always have, and he’s using that against me.

“For me?” I ask sheepishly.

“Uh huh.” He kisses my forehead as I take the bear and hug it to my chest.

“Thank you.” This is just so sweet. How did he even know I’d be awake? I bet he has cameras in my room to make sure I’m not doing something I’m not supposed to.Damn control freak.

“He’s just the messenger,” Rian mutters as he runs a hand through his hair and takes a seat on the edge of my bed.

What the hell is that even supposed to mean? “Messenger?”

“Check his hand, babe.”

The polar bear’s hand? That’s a weird place to hide something. I turn the bear in my arms and pry open his little paw to find a folded-up piece of paper. It takes a minute to unfold and I study Rian skeptically while doing it. I gaze down at the paper, revealing a question handwritten in black ink.

Will you go to prom with me?

xoxo

Rian

My heart sputters as I stare at the words. Rian wants to go to prom—wants us to go together—and he came here to ask me?

“Really?” I ask as I look back at him, his normally grumpy exterior back in place.

“Well?” he presses, losing any semblance of patience. He’s waiting for an answer from me and I’m just staring at him in shock.

Tears prick my eyes as I try to control my emotions, failing miserably. “Yes. A million times, yes.”

I’ve heard thousands of stories of over-the-top prom-posals, and this isn’t over-the-top, but it's cute and sweet, and by far my favorite. I might be biased, though.

I jump into his arms, throwing my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist.

“That’s my girl,” he smiles, breaks the kiss and pulls me into his arms.

“You really want to go to prom, though? What about my brother?”

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