“Marry you?” Sam laughs like he’s just said a joke. “Glasses, are you out of your mind?”
“But aren’t we—I mean, what are we…?” He flinches at the desperation in his voice, the frown that replaces her laughter.
“We’re going home.”
He sighs into his Coke.
Sam chews thoughtfully on a toothpick. Eyes narrowing, testing.
Later on the way home, he finds himself wrapped up in her arms. Her warm breath like feather teasing his ears—
“I’d love to grow old together…”
He mispedals. She giggles. Bike somehow rights itself.
A simple “yes” would’ve sufficed.
*Inspired by the prompt happy endings from The Daily Post.