Hello, fair strumpets, read away…
I don't even know why I love that smug bastard. Too cocky and conceited.
"And late," I reminded myself, glancing for the fiftieth time down at my watch.
What was the point, him asking me to the priciest restaurant in town, and then not showing up?
Amanda had insisted that he was going to propose to me.
'Why go to Le Blanc Tigre, and not propose?' she had asked, her blonde eyebrows knitting together.
Because James always did things like that. He has always been very spontaneous and impulsive.
Like how we'd gotten together.
'Lily, ride with me,' he said, outside my dorm window on his broom, grinning happily.
My friends squealed, looking at me with wide (and some even envious) eyes. I had shrugged, smirked and said, 'All right, then.'
And he'd kissed me as soon as I sat on the broom, a soft kiss that stretched through out my body.
It's 9:05 now.
Stupid moron. He makes me get dressed in my best dress, the one clouded with blue and gold, and come to a restaurant like this, just to be stood up? I can't believe it.
I just can not fucking believe it.
He said he'd be here by eight o'clock. Eight.
The French waiter was looking at me snootily, almost glowing with parvenu.
I shot the stupid egotistical waiter a glare, as if to say, 'If you want your tip, you'll stop looking at me right now, buddy.'
It worked. The waiter left, his black eyebrows arched upwards.
One hour and thirteen minutes late. And he calls himself a boyfriend. Wait until Amanda hears about this. Propose my ass.
There he is, standing at the door now, panting, his tie undone and his hair askew. Well, it's always askew, I suppose. James was unfortunately cursed with hair that will forever be awry.
He made his way over to me, completely ignoring the man who was supposed to direct you to your seat, and kissed me on the lips softly. He looked into my eyes with his big hazel ones, which were filled with warmth, and said, "I'm sorry I'm late, Lily."
Tearing my eyes away from his, I remembered I was angry with him.
"It's alright," I said stiffly, carefully training my sight on my plate.
I could not fall into James' warm eye trick. I always fell for it, and tonight would be the night that I didn't.
James obviously noticed my anger, and sat down in his seat, putting his big hand over mine.
He's going to try the warm hand trick, is he?
"The reason I was late was because on the job today, Sirius injured his leg quite badly, and I had to escort him home," he explained earnestly, "I'm really sorry if I was a bit late, Lily."
And now I felt like a superficial bitch. I looked into his eyes, and said, "It's alright."
But I meant it this time.
We idly chit-chatted, sipping on champagne and getting tipsy. I was quite air-headed as James stepped down on to one knee.
My initial reaction had been tying his shoe, but apparently not.
"Lily," he whispered, as the whole restaurant went silent to watch, "Will you make me the happiest man alive?"
What an overused propose line, I mulled.
"Of course I will," I replied, close to bursting into tears.
And I've done it. I've remembered why I love him.
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