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Which was also why I was scrambling for a plan B for this weekend.
“When are you going to put a ring on it, dipshit?” Bens had been asking.
I’m working on it, Bens. I’m fucking working on it.
Isaiah put in some frozen pizzas to cook, then gestured at our suitcases by the door. “I guess we might as well unpack those.”
“Yeah, good idea.” I pushed myself up off the couch. “I think I’ll wait to repack mine for a few days.”
“I don’t blame you.”
I lived out of suitcases for most of the year, so packing was a normal part of my routine, but it was also one of those chores I’d grown to hate.
“The myth of Sisyphus is either about doing laundry, or it’s about a hockey player packing and unpacking during the hockey season,” I muttered as we put the suitcases on the bed.
Isaiah chuckled, unzipping his. “That, or grading papers.”
“Hmm.” I paused. “Yeah, maybe. I think I’d rather do laundry.”
“See? Perspective.”
I grunted in agreement. As much as I hated packing or doing laundry, I’d rather eat glass than wade through the stacks of papers, essays, and exams he brought home most nights. Eww.
I absently took out my shaving kit and set it on the comforter. As I pulled some clothes out of the suitcase, Isaiah gestured at my kit and held up his own. “You want me to put yours in the bathroom?”
“If you’re heading in there, thanks.” I picked it up, but paused. “Wait, let me get out my charger.” I unzipped it, took out the charger, and started to hand it back to him without closing it all the way. I fumbled it a little. Isaiah did too, but caught it.
And he caught it just right to let a couple of things tumble out of the open zipper.
A roll of dental floss. Oh well. A bottle of hand sanitizer. Fine.
It was the third thing that made my heart stop.
And damn, Isaiah noticed. “What’s…” He furrowed his brow and picked up the small velvet box. “Did you get new cufflinks or something?”
Fuck. He handed me the perfect alibi. The perfect way to brush it off and salvage the situation.
But my dumb ass choked. “Uh…”
He peered at me. “What?”
I took a breath, ready to somehow regain my composure and pull his interest off the box, but then Isaiah’s spine straightened.
His eyes flicked to the box. Back to me. Widened. “Tanner… Thisiscufflinks, right?” I couldn’t tell if he sounded stunned, panicked, or both.
He knew. He had to. Isaiah was way smarter than I was, and he’d figured it out. Why try to backpedal now?
Swallowing hard, I put down the clothes I’d been taking to the closet. “No. It’s, um… It’s not cufflinks.”
He stared at me, lips apart.
I held out my hand. Cautiously, maybe a little uncertainly, he handed it to me. Then he put down the shaving kits he’d been holding, and he watched me. Was his heart pounding like mine was? Because I had a feeling it was.
Mouth suddenly dry, I turned the box between my hands. “I so wanted to do the whole romantic hotel and fancy restaurant and—”
“Tanner,” he whispered. “Are you…”
I took a deep breath, pushed open the box with my thumb, and turned it so he could see. “Yeah. I am.”
