Page 96 of Roomie Wars Box Set

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The look on his face was priceless. Then he proceeded to give me a history lesson on the origin of pizza. I Googled some pictures of different-shaped pizzas which piqued his interest. I wasn’t sure what intrigued him more—the endless number of pictures or the fact he’d never heard of Google.

In the end, he made it work. And it looks damn good.

All I have to do is grab the ring from the vegetable drawer in the refrigerator. A place Zoey never, ever ventures to. My idea is to set the navy box in the center of the pizza. A gesture that seems very personal. Very Zoey.

I’ve got a minute at the most to spare rushing back to the balcony and waiting for her to enter the apartment. My anxiety is really clouding this moment. I’m sure this is normal. I’m doing the right thing. It’s just jitters and cold feet. This moment could be the biggest moment of our lives, and I have to deliver my speech with the utmost care.

Fuck me dead.

I rarely drink, but a bottle of hard liquor would be fantastic right now.

Closing my eyes while taking a deep breath, I drown out all the fear and envision her face. I never expected her to be my soulmate. We are polar opposites. She hates to eat healthy, and I only eat organic. I love modern music, she’s happy to remain in her 1980s’ bubble. She loves to be on top, and I love to fuck her from behind.

Maybe that last one isn’t such a big deal.

The sound of the door banging shut echoes through our small apartment.

A sea of anxiety swirls in the pit of my stomach as I swallow the giant lump in my throat, wringing my hands nervously. You can do this. Why the fuck is this tripping me out so much?

Her pumps—the camel-colored ones with the strap around the ankle—click against the beaten old floorboards. Then, all I hear is silence.

I straighten my posture and wait for her to find me remembering mid-thought to press play on the speaker. With sweaty palms, I almost knock the speaker off the table. Calm the fuck down, will you? When it comes to operating on an almost-dying patient, you’ve got no problem whatsoever.

The instrumental intro of Take My Breath Away plays, soothing my panicked state. She loves this song, and I have to admit that I somewhat do too.

My eyes are fixated on the doorway, heart thumping loud mirroring the beats of the song. The shadow of her body moves closer, and her head is carefully following the trail of pizza boxes creating a path to where I stand. It only takes a split second for her to be in full view, and when her beautiful green eyes meet mine, my heart stops the mad rush and slows down, calming itself.

It’s time.

Eyes wide and with a confused expression, I can almost see the wheels turning inside her head. Then, as the wind slowly brushes past us, her gaze meets mine.

“Drew, what’s all this?” Her voice is shaking. It’s cute. Shouldn’t I be the nervous one here? Yet suddenly, I am the calmest I’ve been in my entire life.

Zoey enjoys rambling most of the time, but now, she’s completely speechless, leaving me even more in love with her. Her eyes scan the balcony, her mouth quietly counting the gold pineapples. With her soft, delicate hand within reach, I extend my hand forward motioning for her to come closer while still balancing the pizza box with my other hand. Our skin touches, and instantly, I see her eyes close with her chest rising and falling. I love watching her like this—dead silent—taking in the moment with every expression easily readable on her beautiful face.

“Zoey.” I smile, grazing her cheek with the tip of my finger. “Six years ago I had pictured a very different life. A life you weren’t part of yet.”

Her big green eyes are boring into me etched with anticipation and curiosity. She doesn’t realize that when lost in thought, she parts her lips slightly with her tongue resting comfortably between her teeth. My gaze moves away from her mouth and focuses back on her eyes.

I tell her slowly, “While that life would have taken me on a different road, it would have been lonely without you by my side. You’re the most frustrating person I’ve ever met.” I continue, “And we couldn’t be more opposite. I mean, seriously, why do you enjoy listening to songs sung by a nerdy redhead who looks like a goddamn geek?”

“Rick Astley…” she interrupts, finding her voice, “… had women falling at his feet. He was never going to give you up or break your heart. And, he was never going to run around or desert you. Hello, why wouldn’t you want a man like that?”

I place my finger on her lips, quieting her rambling. “I love you,” I state, bending down on one knee. I open the pizza box, raising my eyes to meet hers. “Zoey Richards, will you marry me?”

A small breath escapes her mouth, her eyes dancing in delight with clouded vision. I can only assume they’re happy tears, but each second that passes in silence tightens my chest. For someone who’s born with the verbal-diarrhea gene, I beg silently for her to say something. Anything.

The corners of her lips curve into a delicious smile, and she follows with on-the-spot jumping. It could be a reaction to the pizza itself, but then she follows with a “Yes!”

I allow my tight breath to release, steadily removing the ring from the box. Placing the pizza aside, her eyes follow, and then I do what I’ve been wanting to do for such a long time—I slide the ring along her petite finger. Her cute squeals and excited jumps make it hard for me to get it on. But when I do, it looks perfect.

“It’s so beautiful,” she exclaims, staring at it with awe. “Canary diamond. Just like a pineapple. I can’t believe you did this. Oh my gosh, we’re getting married!”

For a split second, it almost seems like she’s having a panic attack. Her breathing is out of control, and her body is shaking unpleasantly. And just as I’m about to ask her if she’s okay, she continues,

“That proposal was more intense than when Emmy was thrown onto the conveyor belt thingy to be shredded into nothing. I mean, yeah okay, I kinda knew that Jonathan would save the day but still. I was on edge the entire time.”

I stand in confusion like I’m being quizzed. Then the light bulb goes off in my brain. “Are you talking about that movie you made me watch with the mannequin coming to life?”


Tags: Kat T. Masen Romance