An Unforgettable Proposal: A Love…Maybe Valentine eShort. Beth Thomas

second first impression I’ve had for weeks.’

      He grinned back. ‘Don’t count your chickens. It could end up being worse than the first first.’

      I took a breath. ‘Well that one was actually pretty good.’ Embarrassed, I lifted my own bottle to my lips.

      He grinned, turned, and walked away, into the group of people at the bar, beyond it, and I lost sight of him. Seconds later, he reappeared, an exaggerated casual air about him as he lolloped across the room, confident I was watching his every move. He pretended to spot me standing there and stopped in his tracks, smacking his palm to his chest. Then he gave a coy smile. I smiled back encouragingly, and he pointed at himself: who, me? I nodded, trying to look uber-cool, and jerked my head a little to beckon him over. Eventually he arrived at my side and said, ‘Hi, my name’s Sam. I just saw you from over there and had to come and talk to you. What’s your name?’

      ‘Hi Sam,’ I laughed, ‘it’s lovely to meet you for the very first time. My name’s William.’

       We had been inseparable ever since.

      *

      ‘I could tell you were still looking, you toad,’ he says now as he arrives at the table. ‘Happy anniversary.’

      ‘You go around looking like Thor in leather trousers and expect me not to look? Happy anniversary to you too. I got you a drink.’

      He pulls out the chair with such easy grace, as if every molecule of every article in the universe is vibrating to his instruction. He regards me closely across the table, smiling as he appraises what he sees. ‘You look bloody great,’ he says quietly, then bends down with a creak of leather and puts his helmet on the floor. My insides are instantly churning with pleasure and I feel heat creep into my cheeks. For God’s sake, I’m nearly thirty and this guy makes me feel like a teenager. Sam’s head comes up again, and in one fluid motion he’s got both hands on the table and is leaning right across to kiss me. I close my eyes and put my hands on his stubbly cheeks, wrapping my fingers around the back of his neck. When we separate he stays there a moment or two longer, our noses almost touching, and smiles broadly. ‘God I love you,’ he breathes, then sits back down.

      As usual, one or two people at nearby tables are staring at us. Good God, two men kissing in public, how disgusting, so I return their stares belligerently. But Sam is oblivious to it all, busy as he is getting something out of his helmet. He never notices anyway. Or at least he doesn’t let on that he’s noticed. And being with him has started to help me not notice too.

      Well, I still notice. But I don’t want to punch anyone any more.

      ‘So, do you want your present now, or shall we wait ’til dessert?’ he says playfully. He’s holding something under the table, out of sight.

      ‘Um, well I was thinking, let’s leave it ’til a week on Wednesday. Then we can really do it justice.’

      He frowns a little. ‘Are you serious?’

      ‘No, you idiot! I want it now! Obviously.’

      His frown is replaced instantly by that heart-stopping grin, and he pushes out his lips. ‘You bastard. OK, here you go.’ And he holds a small silver wrapped parcel across the table.