Dripping Love น้ำหยดลงหิน หินบอกไม่กินน้อง

My best friend and I loved ridiculous pranks, but this time I pushed it further than usual.

I planned to propose to my boyfriend at the airport.

It was a regular Friday afternoon, our last class finally over. I’d just told Ria my plan. I was going to propose to Donovan the moment he walked out of the arrival gate.

The dorm room air smelled of hairspray. I turned to the mirror and adjusted my ash-blond pixie cut with a plastic comb.

"Are you insane, Vespa?" Ria sat on the edge of her bed. "Women do not fucking propose to men. That is not the way the world works."

I let out a short laugh. I reached into my purse to feel the velvet texture of the ring box. "Don't jinx it. I have dropped hints about marriage for months. I want to start my life young. Donovan understands that."

Ria stood up. She paced the small gap between our desks. "You are twenty-one years old. Why would you marry a werewolf? Why would you want his children? That is bestiality."

The absurdity hit me. I laughed until my ribs ached. 

"Donovan is human most of the time," I said. I stood up and nudged her shoulder. "In the end, we are all just animals trying to survive. You need to experience getting fucked by a werewolf. Normal men feel like broken appliances after that. I bet you have not had decent sex since—"

"Vespa." Ria straightened her spine. She pointed a finger at my face. "Stop talking right now."

I grabbed my purse and headed for the door. "I will set you up with one of Donovan’s friends. You deserve a life-altering orgasm."

Ria groaned. She grabbed her keys and followed me into the hallway. She walked like a prisoner toward a scaffold. She muttered about my terrible choices the whole way to the parking lot.

The airport terminal hummed with the sound of rolling luggage wheels and distant intercom voices. Groups of travelers moved in thick waves. The scent of roasted coffee and jet fuel hung in the air. We stood near the arrival gate for Flight 402.

Donovan and I had met a year ago outside the journalism building. He had been a stranger with a paper map. I ran into him while checking my watch. My coffee had soaked his shirt. He had smiled at the mess.

When the gate doors slid open, I saw him. He carried a leather duffel bag. I moved through the crowd. My heart pounded faster as I reached into my bag and felt the ring box.

He stopped ten feet away.

I dropped to one knee on the hard linoleum.

"Vespa," he said. He did not move. "What are you doing?"

I pulled the silver ring from the velvet slit. I held it up. The airport lights caught the metal. Travelers slowed their pace. A circle formed around us. I felt the heat of a dozen cameras pointed our way. This had started as a prank in my head, but the adrenaline made it feel real.

"Donovan, my love, will you marry me?"

I heard the faint click of Ria’s phone camera behind me.

Donovan did not smile. His skin went pale. He looked at the strangers watching us. His eyes darted toward the exits.

"Is this a joke, Vespa?" His voice was low. "Because if it is, it is not funny."

I forced a grin. I held the ring higher. My arm began to shake. "Of course it is not a joke. What are you going to do? Reject me in front of all these people?"

Ria lowered her phone. She stepped closer to me. Her face was tight.

Donovan’s gaze shifted. He looked past my shoulder. His expression crumbled into horror.

I turned my head.

A woman with ginger hair moved toward us. She wore a yellow sundress that swayed with her quick steps. Her blue eyes stayed fixed on Donovan. She reached him and slid her arm through his.

"What is going on here, baby?" she asked.

I stayed on the floor. My brain refused to process the image. She looked down at me. Her lip curled back.

"And who is this sad little stray kneeling on the floor?" she asked.

Donovan looked at the ceiling. He scratched the back of his neck. "She is just some girl from college. She is obsessed with me. Nobody important."

The words felt like a physical blow to my chest.

The woman stepped closer. She looked me in the eye. "Hi, meatbag. I am Nebula. I am Donovan’s fiancée."

She rested her palm against her stomach. The fabric of the yellow dress stretched over a slight curve. "And the mother of his baby."

Whispers broke out in the crowd. 

"So if you could take your little performance somewhere else, that would be great. You are making a scene."

Ria grabbed my elbow. She tried to lift me. "Vespa. Come on. Let us go."

I did not move. My knees felt glued to the floor.

"Vespa, I am sorry," Donovan said. He adjusted the strap of his bag. "But you were out of your mind pulling something like this."

He turned his back. He walked away with Nebula toward the baggage claim. He did not look back once.

Ria tugged my arm again. "We need to leave."

I pushed my palms against the cold floor. I tried to stand, but my muscles felt like water. The colors of the terminal began to bleed together.

"Vespa, please," Ria whispered.

I tried to push up one more time.

Three tall men stepped through the circle of onlookers. They were broad-shouldered and moved with synchronized intent. People stepped back to clear a path. The men did not look at the crowd. They stared directly at me.

The roar of the airport faded into a dull hum. My vision blurred. I felt my body tilt forward.

Thick, strong arms caught me before my face hit the tile. The world went black.