Page 100 of When Ben Loved Jace
“Are you suggesting that I can’t handle my liquor?” I ask sternly before smiling, because we both know the sad truth.
“Just get some food in your belly first,” he suggests, nodding at the croissant.
“You don’t have to ask twice,” I say, biting a corner.
“I’m hoping once will be enough,” he murmurs.
I don’t get the reference, but that’s okay, because I’ve just remembered a funny story. “Did I ever tell you about the firsttime I got drunk? Me and Allison decided, at the ripe old age of fourteen, that we were ready for a grownup experience. Her dad had rum he’d received as a gift from someone. He doesn’t drink at all anymore, but when he did, he preferred whiskey, so the bottle sat there completely ignored. We must have watched it for months to be sure he wasn’t interested. Allison moved the rum to a different cabinet instead of taking it outright, which was a brilliant strategy, because if her dad noticed it was gone… Well, you get it, right?”
I tend to gesture when I talk, Jace’s eyes tracing the croissant as it loops through the air. He gently places his hand on mine to lower it.
“You’re getting crumbs everywhere,” he says.
“Sorry. Anyway, once certain the bottle wouldn’t be missed, we took it out to the woods to this tree where we used to pretend to be pirates, because that seemed the most appropriate setting to drink rum. Very mature of us, don’t you think? We took turns taking swigs and retching, hating every minute of it, but we got enough down to feel tipsy. Which was fun, at first, but being the geniuses we were, we’d chosen to do this on a school night and had to go home for dinner. Which made us nervous. Allison had brought a pack of gum with her, but we kept thinking how easy it was to smell when her dad had been drinking, so a single piece wasn’t enough. We ended up splitting an entire pack, so by the time I made it home, I was chewing such a big wad that I could barely speak. Like…” I grab the croissant and cram half of it in my mouth to demonstrate.
Jace shoots to his feet. “Ben!”
“Wha?”
“Don’t bite down!”
“Huh?”
“Or at least, chew veryveryslowly. And carefully.”
He acts like I’ve just shoved a bomb into my mouth. I don’t get it.
Jace takes the remaining half of the croissant from me and examines it. The tension leaves him again. “Never mind. You’re okay.”
“Wha d’yew mean?”
“Just chew and swallow,” he says while laughing.
I fix him with a quizzical expression while doing so.
“I was hoping to surprise you,” he explains. “I’ve been trying to find the right way to do it for the entire trip.”
“Do what?” I ask after forcing myself to swallow.
“This.”
Jace walks around to my side of the table. Then he lowers himself to one knee, bringing him eye-level with me.
“You’ve made me incredibly happy,” he begins.
My heart starts thumping. I quickly brush the crumbs off my face and wish I’d made myself presentable after waking up, because OH MY FREAKING GOD!!!
“And I don’t just mean the especially good times,” Jace continues, “like these trips we take together. I enjoy getting to travel with you, but even when we’re home… Having someone to share each meal with, or snuggle with when watching TV—those moments are just as magical. I adore how good you are with Samson, and the way you smile each time he hops onto your lap. All those little domestic scenes are exactly what I dreamt of as a lonesome teenager. Getting to spend my life with someone who lets me love them, and who loves me in return, is a dream come true. I never want it to end, so why not make it last forever?” He holds up half a croissant. “Oh. Hold on.” Jace digs around inside the pastry and pulls out a ring. “I love you, Ben. Will you marry me?”
I cover my mouth with both hands, laughing before my feet start stomping, because Icannothandle how gleeful this makes me! I’ve gotta put all that joy somewhere, so I drop my hands and press my lips against his, only pulling away again to assure him of the obvious answer. “Yes!”
Jace flashes a smile and tosses the mauled croissant on the table, Then, with much more reverence, he takes my hand and slides on the ring, which is a perfect fit.
“So buttery!” I say while admiring it.
He laughs. “Obviously, this didn’t go exactly as planned.”
“Which was what, exactly?”
