Shut Up And Kiss Me

« WILL YOU MARRY ME ? »

The entire restaurant gasped as he got down on one knee, looking up at me with something like amazement. As though I was the most beautiful girl in the world, and he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with me.

« Mike Hunt, you didn’t, » I said breathlessly.

« I love you, Dixie, » he said with shining eyes. « I always knew you you were the one. I’ve loved you since we were eleven years old and I popped your cherry in Grandma’s trailer. »

People at the nearby tables looked up―like deer caught in headlights.

There are three things you should know right now.

1.My name is Talia Decker, not Dixie.

2.My best friend’s name is Aaron Green, not Mike Hunt.

3.I need a new hobby.

The restaurant was called Baton Rouge, a high-end steakhouse in downtown Brooklyn. Golden bars of light were dimmed over the wooden-paneled walls. Each velvet booth hummed with conversation, but at the sight of Aaron on one knee in front of my seat, the chatter died down.

« Dixie, you are the love of my life. I’ve never wanted to be with anyone more than I want to be with you. You were there for me when I was arrested for assault, when I broke out of rehab, and even when I got your mother pregnant. You are the only constant in my life, and I can’t imagine spending another day without you. »

« Oh, Mikey, » I said, holding a hand over my heart.

Inside of the black velvet box, there is a curly onion fry.

In a louder voice, he said, « Dixie Normous, I can’t wait a second longer : Will you marry me ? »

By then, we had the attention of the entire restaurant.

« Of course I―wait, you’re not just saying this because I caught you and my mom together last week again, right ? »

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the scandalized expressions of the family at the table nearby.

This was always the best part.

« No ! » he insisted. « I love you, and only you. »

I narrowed my eyes with suspicion. « And you’re not saying it because I found the bag of weed in your car this morning, right ? »

A waiter, speeding toward the kitchen, suddenly froze.

My best friend took my hand in his, looking up at me with honey-flecked hazel eyes. « Don’t worry, babe. I’m still sober. I don’t get high, I’m just a drug dealer. »

A mother shielded her son’s ears.

« Oh, » I said, softening. « Well, if that’s the case . . . »

« So what do you say ? I have the keys to our minivan right here. I already switched out the stolen license plates. »

I covered my mouth with one hand, teary-eyed. « Mike Hunt, I never thought this day would come ! Of course it’s a yes ! »

The other customers broke into tentative applause. At the next table over, a little girl bounced in her seat. She tugged on an older woman’s hand. « Grandma, what’s weed ? »

My best friend rose to his feet, finishing our fake proposal with a tearful embrace.

« How’d I do ? » he whispered, planting both hands on my waist.

« Probably the best fake proposal in our entire career, » I whispered back, slinging my arms around his neck.

He spun me around, and a few people cheered.

He did make sure not to kiss me, though. Aaron Green and I had been inseparable since the sixth grade, but our relationship was strictly platonic.

To be honest, I had only ever had one boyfriend.

The point of these proposals was to have fun. To fuck around. To live life.

« Ah―congratulations, Mr. Hunt, » said one of the waiters. « Do you want your bill ? »

« Of course, » Aaron said, setting me down. His hands lingered on my waist for a brief moment.

Once dinner was paid for, Aaron offered me his arm. We were already at the door of the restaurant when I realized what I was missing. Outside, the sky was kissed in cold grey, threatening rain.

« Fuck, » I muttered. « I forgot my jacket. Wait for me outside ? »

Before Aaron could reply, I kissed his cheek and darted back to our emptied table.

My jean jacket was right where I had left it―a gift from my grandmother. The sleeves were embroidered in bold blocks of colour, turquoise and violet and pink.

But as soon as I had slipped it over my shoulders, a woman stopped me.

« You look a little young to be getting engaged. »

« I’m twenty-one, » I lied. I was sixteen.

Tomorrow would be my first day of eleventh grade.

The woman had silky red hair, twisted into a bun. Her eyes were the colour of caramel and her skin was as pale as fresh cream. She was wearing a dark golden blouse, and I liked the way the neckline dipped towards the middle of her chest.