Breaking Me Slowly

Seven

It’s quiet in the car as Grayson drives us to wherever it is that we’re going. He hasn’t mentioned specifics and he won’t relent on giving me hints. I’m looking outside the passenger window, watching as the trees pass by in a blur. It seems that we were heading towards the edge of town.

“Something wrong,” Grayson asks.

I look at him. “No, why?”

“You’re very quiet.”

“Just trying to figure out where we’re going.”

“Nervous?”

I give him a look. “Stop listening to my heartbeat.”

He smirks. “I can’t help it.”

“Can’t you wear ear plugs or something?”

“Or something?”

“I don’t know!”

“I could wear ear plugs,” he says with a laugh, “but it still won’t make a difference.”

I turn in my seat toward him. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to your hearing.”

“Well, you have a long time to get used to it,” he says, looking me dead in the eyes.

My stomach flutters and my heart races. The smirk appears on Grayson’s face once more. I shake my head and look back out the window. “Still don’t know where we’re going?”

“I have an idea.”

“Which is?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m not telling.”

He laughs. “So, that’s how it’s going to be.”

“That’s right.”

Ten minutes later, Grayson pulls the car into a parking lot. The lot is surrounded by lush, green hills but nothing more. There are a few cars parked in the spaces but it’s mostly empty. Grayson gets out of the car and jogs over to my side, opening the passenger door before I even had a chance to blink.

“Thank you,” I say as he offers a hand to help me out.

He takes my hand in his and leads us toward a stone staircase that I never noticed before. We make our way up to the top. I gasp as I take in the view. You can see all of town, the cars and people look like tiny ants just moving about their day.

“This isn’t even the surprise,” Grayson says. I didn’t notice the restaurant at first since I was enamored with the view at the top of the hill. The hostess greets us with a smile and her eyes linger on Grayson for a second too long. “I have a reservation for Mitchell.”

Her eyes scan down the list. “Ah, yes. Right this way, Mr. Mitchell.” She leads us through the restaurant and out to the back deck where there’s a perfect view of the ocean. “Here you are,” she says, placing two menu’s down on the table.

“Thank you,” Grayson says.

“My pleasure and your waiter will be with you shortly.”

Grayson and I thank her at the same time, but she’s too focused on Grayson to even acknowledge me. Would I ever get used to this?

I look at the menu, trying not to dwell on the prices. Everything was out of my price range, but it was just something I was going to have to get used to, being with Grayson and all.

“What are you going to have?” Grayson asks, his eyes scanning his menu.

“Hmm, I’m thinking the chicken parmesan.” I set the menu down. “And you?”

He looks up from his menu. “What I want isn’t on the menu.” My face turns a bright shade of red. I don’t have to look in the mirror to know that, I can feel the heat rising up my neck and cheeks. “So, I guess I’ll have to settle for the sirloin.”

“Good evening,” the waiter says, coming to our table. “I’ll be your server for tonight. Can I start you off with some drinks?” I order a lemonade and Grayson sticks with water. “I’ll be right back with your drink.”

I drum my fingers on the table and look out over the glass railing to the water.

“What are you thinking?” Grayson asks.

I turn my gaze to him. “How beautiful this place is.”

He smiles. “Isn’t it,” he agrees.

It’s quiet for a moment as we take in the scenery. We were close enough to the ocean to hear the waves lapped against the shore. I absolutely loved the beach. It was one of my favorite places and I was surprised that Grayson knew. Then I realized he had probably done his research on me before moving here. He knew me all too well while I knew very little of him.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“You bite your lip when you’re deep in thought. So, what is it?” he asks, patiently waiting for my answer.

I take a deep breath. “I feel like you know almost everything about me, but I don’t know much about you.” His brows furrow. “We’re getting married soon and I don’t know—you’re not a stranger or anything I just… don’t know the little things, I guess.”

He just stares at me. I wonder what is going through his head.

He clears his throat, then says, “What little things do you wanna know?”

“Things like: what’s your favorite color, favorite movie, what are your favorite hobbies? You know, things like that.”

His gaze moves down to his water; his index finger running along the top of the glass. I watch in silence as he carefully rests his hands on the table. “I don’t have a favorite color but if I had to choose, I guess black. As for a favorite movie, I don’t watch a lot of TV so no favorite movie, but I do have a favorite book.” He smiles. “The Count of Monte Cristo. As for hobbies, I like to read, occasionally I’ll play basketball, and I enjoy hiking.”

My brows pique in interest. “Hiking.”

He chuckles. “Yes, hiking. I used to go a lot as a kid with my dad and Jensen. Not so much anymore but I wouldn’t mind picking it up again.” His gaze moves back to me. “Anything else?”

“What do you hate?”

He strokes his chin, which I now notice has a little stubble. “You’re going to laugh at this, but I absolutely detest snakes.”

“Snakes,” I repeat in a disbelieving tone.

He sighs. “When I was younger, I went camping with my family one weekend. Jensen and I were sharing a tent and a snake managed to make his way into our tent. The snake decided to slither into my sleeping bag while I was asleep. Ever since then, I hated snakes.”

“How old were you?”

He looks up for a second as he tries to recall. “About seven.”

“But you like to hike.”

“Hiking doesn’t involve sleeping in nature.” I want to laugh but that would just be plain mean so instead, I bite down on my lip. “Are you laughing at me?”

I shake my head. “I would never.”

I practically jump when the waiter comes back with my lemonade and sets it down in front of me. “Thank you.”

“Can I start you off with some appetizers?”

Grayson orders a couple of things and the waiter leaves once more.

“Alright, my turn,” Grayson says.

“Don’t you already know everything about me?”

“I don’t know your favorite color or your favorite movie.”

“My favorite color is blue—light blue to be exact. As for my favorite movie, I would have to say it’s Ten Things I Hate About You.”

He shakes his head and says, “Never seen it.”

My mouth drops open. “You’ve never seen it?”

Another shake of his head. “Nope, never even heard of it until right now.”

“We’re watching it.”

“I don’t know—”

“Nuh—uh, we’re watching it.”

He chuckles. “If you insist.”

“Oh, I do.” I take a sip of my lemonade. “Tell me another story.”

He raises a brow. “About?”

I shrug. “You choose.”

“I have a good one.” I scoot closer, resting my elbows on the table. “When Jensen and I were younger, we used to play pranks on one another all the time. So much so that it drove our parents crazy since sometimes they got caught in the crossfire. You see, Jensen is a bit squeamish about bugs but in particular, spiders are the worst for him. One night before bedtime I decided to put a bunch of fake spiders under his covers so that when he went to go to bed, he would see it infested with spiders.”

“You are so mean!”

He laughs and holds up his hands. “Jensen was just as bad.”

After dinner, Grayson and I drove along the coast. Slowly, he pulls the car over and turns off the engine. He jogs around to my side of the door and opens it, taking my hand in his. He doesn’t let go as we walk along the shore.

We come to an abrupt stop and Grayson stands directly in front of me. I’m surprised to see a nervous look on his face. This time, it’s mine turn to ask him what’s wrong.

“Do you remember the last time we were here?” he asks, instead.

I think back to the last time he brought me here and we had our very first kiss. “Yes,” I say, wondering where he was going with this.

“After that night, I somehow just knew that you were it for me. I wanted you for forever and no one else.”

“Grayson—”

“I’m not very good at expressing my emotions or talking about my feelings—” he grimaces “—and I know I should’ve done this a while ago and I should’ve done this properly, but better late than never, right?” He gets down on one knee and pulls a black velvet box from his jacket pocket and opens it to reveal the diamond ring that his mother had given me. I had kept it in my drawer for safe keeping since the ring was too big, but he must’ve taken it without me knowing and had it resized.  

“I love you and I promise to take care of you and love you for the rest of our lives,” he continues. “So, Juliette, will you marry me?”

“Yes.” He slips the ring onto my finger.