Will You Marry Me?

*Katherine*

I should have picked up Aria’s call when I saw it. Maybe gone to her place and spent the night but I can’t.

 Aria, my best friend, is going through a lot too. Her grandmother is very sick. I can’t afford to add to her responsibility right now. She’s also one of the reasons I keep telling myself to fight for what is mine.

 If I can get my life together, maybe I can help her get hers together too.

So here I am, in this glamorous club house, spending money that I do not have. Spending money I should guard with my life since I need it to survive the next few days. 

I shouldn’t even be drinking. 

I have ulcer and a light head. My body always warns me but my heart never listens. And right now, to hell with my ulcer and to hell with saving money. I just want to drown everything that is miserable and painful inside me. Anyone in my shoes would feel the same, right?

I gulp the short glass of vodka in front of me and wave for more. The bartender, this guy with a full head of hair and sideburns that look too neat for this job, stares at me like I’m writing my own obituary.

 I ignore the look. I never knew heartbreaks felt this way. I thought pain came like a slow tide. This one feels like it is pouring sand down my throat and pressing my lungs at the same time.

I wish my mother was here. She would have known what to say. She always did. She would sit beside me, hold my hand, and tell me what to do without forcing me. I miss her so much my chest aches. I miss my real dad too even though my memories of him feel like they don't belong to me.

“More.” I tell the bartender with my hand. 

He mutters something before pouring more liquor into my glass. I empty it. I ask again. I don’t even wait for his reaction. When the bitterness hits my tongue, I feel something close to relief. My eyes sting. All of this is so stupid but I can't stop.

I slam the glass down and shout “Can I have the whole bottle?” I yell that without thinking. 

The bartender yells back that I can’t. I scrunch my nose. “awww. I would really love the whole bottle.”

At this point, I don’t know how many glasses I’ve had. Maybe I should have counted but too late. My head is starting to float and my palms feel sweaty. The hip hop blasting from the speakers hits my skull like tiny hammers. 

My phone vibrates in my purse and I ignore it. It must be Aria. And I can’t pick her call like this. Slurring every word and sounding like my life is sliding out of my hands—even though it is.

All I plan to do is drink enough to numb myself, get a room upstairs, sleep and pretend tomorrow is a different world.

A few minutes later, my eyes start closing on their own. My brain whispers that it is time to leave, so I listen. I pull out my card, squints at it like I’m checking if it is truly mine before handing it over to the bartender.

“I still have small cash here. Take it.” I shout that too. 

Why am I shouting? I don’t know. Everything sounds loud anyway.

He finishes and gives me back my card. I try to put it in my purse and it takes longer than it should. The purse refuses to cooperate. My fingers too refuse to cooperate but eventually, it slides in.

I turn to leave when the hem of my dress hooks onto the leg of the stool. I stumble forward and collide with something as solid as a rock. For one second I think the club has grown a new wall. 

Then I blink and look up and it's a very firm human chest. His jaw appears like a fine sculpture. Under the dim neon lightening, his blue eyes shines very bright. He is smiling at me and it does something to my brain.

“Sorry. Are you a human being?” I hear myself ask. 

He smiles wider. His smile is so clean and bright that I forget why I’m in this place. I reach out and touch his chest again. He doesn't move. His curious gaze stays on my face.

At this point, I should turn left and walk away. But my legs and mouth choose betrayal.

“Do you want to have a drink with me?” I ask him.

He starts to say something. “Don’t you need to—”

But I stop him before he can finish with my index finger pressing lightly on his lips. 

“You can’t say no.” I whisper not sure if he even heard me or if he just read my lips. 

I drag him back to my stool. Well, I try to. He follows, which makes it easier. I pull out the seat beside mine and push him down gently. He sits. I take my seat beside him.

When we are seated, lean in. “What will you drink? My treat.”

I swear I saw him huff a small laugh before calling the bartender with a wave. He whispers something and the bartender nods.

I stare at him. He is better looking than Derek. More composed. His fingers are long and clean. His jawline looks like it was carved by a stubborn artist. His hair is long and appears clean.

I start imagining nonsense. Like how he would look beside me at a gala. How his presence alone would silence anyone that doubted me. How a man like him would shut my step family up without lifting a finger.

And then, before my brain catches up with my mouth, words slip out from my mouth.

“Will you marry me?” 

Everywhere suddenly feels quiet as I wait for him to answer.