Page 2 of The Promposal

“That was outside, not inside,” he said, and I could tell he was trying not to laugh.

“Are you sure we’re alone?” I whispered, not wanting to raise my voice too much and offend the ghosts.

“Yes, the hotel is locked up nice and tight. We’re fine.”

Yeah, because locks so often stopped ax murderers.

“In fact,” he said, putting his lips near mine, “we’re so alone we could make out as much as we wanted.”

It was a testament to how panicked I felt that I wasn’t even a little bit tempted to kiss my boyfriend. Because if my superpower was my amazing poker face, all Jake’s superpowers were centrally located in his lips. That boy could seriously kiss.

Or me not wanting to make out could have been a sign of the impending apocalypse. Which would obviously begin in this decrepit hotel. “No thanks.”

And again he laughed, and despite how much I adored the sound of his laughter, it kind of made me want to hit him.

“This way,” he told me.

We walked in silence, my ears straining to catch every little sound, real and imagined. I wondered if I should text my final will and testament to my sister, Ella. I would leave her my John Hughes DVDs, and my dad could have my manga drawings. My mother could keep her bitter disappointment in me as my last legacy.

Jake finally came to a stop, and all I could see were some wooden floors.

“You know how I’ve been trying to figure out what I want to do with my life since I’m not going to be a lawyer?”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Yeah.”

“This is what I want to do.”

“Hang out in old creepy buildings?” The hair on my forearms stood straight up. Oh Buddha, he was going to tell me he decided to become a serial killer, and this would be his lair.

“No. Let me show you. Stay here.”

Then ... he let go of my hand! I could see him walking because of his phone, but icy fear wrapped around my heart, making me shake. If any scary dolls or guys with chainsaws jumped out at me, Jake was on his own.

“Why did you leave me alone in the dark?” I asked. Well, whimpered.

“Don’t think of the dark as scary. Think of it as romantic.”

“It’s not romantic,” I informed him through clenched teeth.

“I think it’s romantic.”

“Ha. Says the guy who yelled ‘finally’ at the end ofDirty Dancing.”

He put his phone on the floor, and a moment later, light exploded, filling the entire room. I had to close my eyes for a second. When I could open them again, I saw large floodlights in the corners of this massive, beautiful room. A ballroom? It was in the process of being cleaned up. There were large metal scaffolding structures up against the walls and canvas tarps scattered around the wooden floor. The murals on the ceiling were gorgeous. Somebody extremely talented had painted those royalty-themed frescoes. I considered climbing the scaffolding to get a closer look.

Jake came and stood in front of me. “My dad has a client, a guy named John Biltmore, who has started restoring this hotel to its glory days. He came over for dinner the other night, and we got to talking, and I realized that this is what I want to do. I want to be an architect. I want to make buildings like this one.”

Whew. That was definitely better than planning on becoming a serial killer. I thought of all the elaborate Lego projects in Jake’s room, and it made perfect sense that he’d want to be an architect. “That’s great!” I told him weakly, finally feeling the blood returning to my fingertips and toes.

“Let me show you.” He grabbed my hand, lacing our fingers together in the way that always felt completely right, like our hands had been made for just this purpose. “Now today’s ballrooms in hotels are usually more generic so they can be used by different people in different ways. But this room? Look at the character. How unique it is. The man who started the hotel was from Australia. He made a fortune from gold mines and apparently loved movies. He came to the United States to live with the movie stars, and he wanted to create a place they would want to hang out at. Only the best would do. He ended up hiring Gianni Battista to design it. He was one of the world’s leading and most well-known architects at the time.”

I watched him as he went on, saying something about Spanish and Italian Renaissance influences, gilded arches, and concave-domed ceilings, and I loved how passionate he was about this. How caught up he was in explaining it to me.

When he ran out of steam, I told him, “This is definitely what you should major in when we get to college.”

“I knew you’d get it.” He wrapped his arms around me, hugging me close, and then swung me around in a circle. I couldn’t help but giggle. In a very undignified fashion.

He put me back on the ground and held me close. This had to be it. The moment. My heart thumped as he reached into his pocket and pulled out ... his cell phone? A slow song by my favorite Irish band filled the room. “Dance with me.”

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