“Tell him,” he says slowly, “that you’ll marry him.”
“No,” I blurt out.
And hate myself for it.
Even more than I did before he arrived here so abruptly and I was on the bed, pouring all my angst into my diary. I hate myself even more for saying no now, than I did when I’d said it to my boyfriend.
Who did come here to surprise me on my birthday.
He wasn’t supposed to be here, let alone take me out for a birthday dinner. He was supposed to be back in New York like he’s been for the past year, for college, practicing for an upcoming soccer game. But he left all that to come to me. He said that he didn’t want me to be alone, not today, not for my birthday.
And I was so happy to see him too.
But then I went and ruined everything.
I hurt him.
All because at the end of our meal, he asked me a question and produced a ring.
He said that even though we’re young, it feels right. It feels like forever. And this ring, even though it’s an engagement ring, doesn’t mean that we have to marry as soon as I turn eighteen. I could treat it as a promise ring and we could wait until I finished college, if I wanted to. But he couldn’t not give me a ring and propose because he could see our future so clearly.
Him being a pro-soccer player and me being his wife.
Unlike all the other times before — when he’d asked me out for the first time or told me that he loved me — I couldn’t see this coming. And to say that I freaked out is an understatement.
I freaked the fuck out.
I felt trapped. Suffocated.
I felt like someone was standing on my chest, not letting me breathe.
And so I ran.
I told him that I wanted to go back home. That I couldn’t be here. I couldn’t do this. And like the best boyfriend in the whole wide world, he did what I asked him to. He drove me back home and I’ve been shut up in my room ever since.
“No,” he repeats, softly.
“I-I can’t.”
“And why not?”
“I just…”
“You just what?”
“I-I can’t. I…”
“Youwhat?”
“Because it’s too soon,” I blurt out the first thing that comes into my head.
Even though as soon as I say it, I know it’s a lie.
It’s not too soon.
It’s not why I said no. I said no because I was feeling trapped and I have a feeling I’d feel trapped even if he asked me this question years down the lane.
And oh my God, the hate that I feel for myself keeps growing.