“Are you falling asleep on me?” Owen asked during yet another Movie Night. Six months later, Owen and I were still together, and as strong as we ever were. I was curled up under his arm on the couch, resting my eyes.
“No,” I argued. “I’m just…”
“Resting your eyes?” he finished.
“Exactly,” I laughed.
I kept my eyes closed as Owen shifted around and then I couldn’t hear the movie anymore. I opened my eyes to see the movie paused.
“What’s up?” I asked, sitting up and smoothing back my hair.
“I think it’s time for you to go to bed,” Owen told me.
“What? It’s only…” I glanced at the clock. “Okay, it’s nearly one in the morning, but that’s still early!”
“Not when you have work the next morning, it isn’t,” Owen pointed out.
“But I’m not tired!” I insisted.
“You were falling asleep in my lap.”
“Then stop being so comfortable,” I told him and childishly stuck out my tongue at him. Owen made a face and stuck out his tongue at me in retaliation. We both laughed.
“I love you,” I reminded him as I stood up and stretched. Owen wrapped his arms around my stomach as I was stretching and pulled me close to him.
“I love you too,” he told me as he pulled me to the bedroom we shared after Owen moved into my apartment.
I changed into pajamas, turned off the lights, and crawled into bed, curling up on my side against Owen and resting my head on his chest.
Just as I was starting to drift off to sleep, Owen ran his hand down my back, his fingers gliding over every bump in my spine; always an extremely ticklish spot for me. I squirmed, smiling. Owen chuckled and watched me. I smiled wryly.
“You know I’m ticklish there,” I told him, scolding him playfully.
Owen laughed again. “I know, but I still like doing it.”
Without warning, Owen pounced, poking and vellicating me in every ticklish spot on my body; unfortunately, those spots weren’t in short supply.
I squealed and writhed, pulling away from him. Owen kept his hands on me, poking my sides and holding me close. We laughed loudly as I tried to fight him off, but he was too strong for me to take him down.
By the end of our battle, I was out of breath and my stomach was hurting from laughing too hard. We were sideways on the bed, the blankets and sheets curled and tangled up around us. My upper back was hanging off the bed.
Owen kissed my neck and then lifted his head to look at me. He stared into my eyes, his brow furrowing. I bit my lip nervously, wondering what was going through his head. The way he was looking at me, it was like there was only him and I in the entire world, like I was the only thing that mattered to him. He could see my past, my present, and even my future in that one, solid gaze.
“Will you marry me?” asked Owen suddenly, breaking the silence.
“W-what?” I asked.
“Will you marry me?” repeated Owen. “I love you, and I want to spend my life with you. I know that I’ve made mistakes with this before, but…Blaise, we’ve known each other for years. We’re meant to be, and you know it. Marry me? I promise tha—”
I didn’t let Owen finish his sentence. I took hold of his face and pulled him towards me, pressing my mouth to his.
“Yes. Yes, yes, yes! A million times yes,” I told him, our lips still touching.
Owen wrapped his arms around me, bringing us both up to the head of the bed.
We wrapped our arms around each other and I fell asleep enveloped in happiness.
“Blaise?” Lenyx poked her head through the door. “Are you ready?”
I took one last look at myself in the mirror, beamed happily at what I saw, and nodded back to Lenyx.
She took a step closer to me, looking beautiful in her pale green A-line dress. “You look perfect.”
“Thank you.” I couldn’t stop beaming. I picked up the front of my dress so it wouldn’t drag on the ground, and headed out of the small room.
Lenyx kissed me on the cheek as she took her place in front of me. My father met me at my side, smiling. The doors opened, the organ struck up, and everybody rose to their feet. I beamed, nervous and focusing just on not tripping. I looked up and saw him, Owen waiting for me at the end of the longest walk of my life. Everyone else melted away until my tunnel vision just let Owen in. He was smiling, looking at me like I was the only person left in the world.
My stomach flipped annoyingly; yeah, that never went away, even after he proposed five months ago.
We hadn’t been together long when Owen asked me to marry him, at a park, kneeling in front of me as I sat on a swing, the sun shining brilliantly. It was even less time between when he asked and today. I didn’t want a long engagement, and he didn’t want to deal with the criticisms of his family for longer than he had to—three engagements in about that many years doesn’t bode well. However, I was absolutely positive that this engagement was going to see an end that included “I do”.
I reached the end of the aisle, my father kissed me on the cheek, and I turned to face Owen.
Every memory of he and I, every minute that passed between when I saw Owen Hastings for the first time, at some stupid school function, to when he kissed me and told me he loved me at the Church only half a year ago, filled my mind and tears of joy and love filled my eyes.
This was it. This was my happy ending. This was why I never gave up and moved on.
I answered the preacher’s question, never once taking my eyes off of Owen.