AN: Here's the sequel! I hope you enjoy it. I'll have to change the genre from friendship to romance after this! This chapter occurs about… two years after the previous one.
Her sneakers skidded along the pathway, her breath coming out in pants as she rounded the corner, heading back to the Bed and Breakfast. The air was cold, with a taste of winter in the air, although it was merely mid-October. Everything in South Dakota was gone- the trees, the grass, even the cute little deer she saw during her early morning jogs. Everything except Claudia, Pete, and her.
"Gotcha!" Myka shrieked, twisting in her captor's arms and almost roundhouse-kicking him across the face. Speak of the devil.
"Where?" Her boyfriend glanced around excitedly, which annoyed her even further. She wouldn't normally be so moody, as she had grown accustomed to Pete's liveliness, but since she'd started her period yesterday and there were no cookies in the house, she found herself a bit irritable. Okay, that was a lie. A lot irritable. "All right, all right," He lifted his hands up in the normal surrender-stance, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have killed the mood." Myka chuckled softly as Pete jogged up to the steps of the Bed and Breakfast. "Come on. I'll repay you by baking some awesometastic cookies. You kind of look like you need some." She narrowed her eyes and Pete huffed as her palms fell to her hips- definitely his least favorite position to be in, to be the one being stared down with those menacing glares she packed behind otherwise striking caramel- brown eyes.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"You look stressed. Is that a crime now?" She scoffed, glancing over the dried-up landscape before turning her eyes back to him. "Forget it. I know you need some time to be pissed-off. I'll be waiting in the living room when you've decided to come back down to Earth." He turned from her and her heart squeezed tight; reminding her that she couldn't be such a bitch to him. He didn't deserve it, after all.
"Pete?" The cold air seeped into her mouth as she bit down on her lip, hard. Damn her feelings and the overwhelming power they had over her brain.
"I- I'm sorry," She stepped closer, her sneaker scratching along the driveway and crunching the leaves underneath the soles. "I shouldn't have snapped at you." They stood apart from each other, bodies still and breathing steady. For what seemed like three eternities, they stared at one another. Something changed, then, Myka knew, but she couldn't pinpoint exactly what had.
"You don't always have to be in control, Myka." He stepped off of the porch, moving slowly towards her.
"Oh, yes, I do." Her sneakers scraped back down the driveway.
"Why? Why are you so stubborn?"
"Because I have to look after you, Pete! I have to make sure you're not tampering with the crime scene or the evidence or causing mayhem or-"
"No, you don't."
"Of course I do. You're Pete- the carefree and happy one and I'm Myka, the-"
"-Woman who should just let go sometimes. Go wild and crazy. Have a few drinks and not worry about what you're going to feel like in the morning." The sneakers stopped. A cold breeze captured the twisted locks of hair and began spitting them in her face. She didn't bother to push them away, though, because Pete's hand was already up, his knuckles brushing lightly against her pink frozen skin, warming her face instantly.
"Why are you smiling?" She inquired, one eyebrow perched high above her brown eye.
"I was just trying to imagine you partying," He grinned broadly, "I would never believe it unless I saw it with my own two eyes."
"Then there's a lot of things you don't know about me, Pete Lattimer," She mimicked his smile and moved closer to plant her lips upon his. Then the sneakers were moving again, racing up to the house, and she felt like she should be seventeen years-old, trying to sneak back into the house after a late date-night.
"Oh, before you grab a shower, could you put some of my jeans into the washer?" She rolled her eyes but obliged, wrapping her arms around one of the porch's posts while Pete faded away down the never-ending road in South Dakota on his jogging route. Shaking her head slightly, she found she couldn't wipe the smile off of her face, and listened to the sound of the screen door slapping behind her as she disappeared into the house.
Pete was turning the last corner of his jog when a figure appeared on the edge of his vision. His sweaty palms burned with the cold and his lungs felt as if they had been doused in gasoline and set afire- and yet it still couldn't compare to the butterflies that were performing intricate, aerobatic moves in his stomach. He pushed harder, faster on the pavement and soon met her in the middle of the South Dakota roadway.
"Any particular reason you-" She silenced him by pulling out a faux suede-covered box.
"What is this?"
"Looks pretty obvious to me." Myka sighed, popping open the box to reveal an empty core.
"Except there's no ring inside, honey."
"Oh, shoot! Did you lose it on the way down here?!" He could see the alarm on her face- her eyes widening and her lips falling open and shut, open and shut.
"No, Pete. There was no ring when I pulled it out of your jean pocket. Why do you need a ring anyway?"
"Let me see that," He plucked the box from her fingers and examined the interior, "Yeah. There was definitely a ring in here. Are you positive you didn't drop it?"
"Pete, there was no ring in that box when I-"
"Well, could you at least look around? Maybe it fell out when you stopped." He pleaded, using the eyes she could never resist and he received an agitated glare in return, but she did as he asked and began searching the surrounding area for the ring.
"Pete, I'm telling you I can't find that-" Her sneaker spun in the dirt on the pavement, twirling a cloud into the air, "-ring." Below her, on one knee, sat her boyfriend with a sparkling rose-cut diamond settled into a platinum band. "Oh, my God. Pete. Pete? Pete!" She squealed, turning around with her hand over her face to hide her smile.
"Uh… you know I can't exactly say my lines if you're not looking at me." He called from behind. She sucked in a breath and spun back around to face him.
"Okay. I'm done freaking out." He smirked, glad to see her reaction wasn't what Claudia had been convincing him it would be for the past three weeks.
"Myka Elise Bering, will you marry me?" She nodded, her throat too thick to verbalize her answer. He rose to meet her, but she dropped down to his level and pulled him into her arms.
"Yeah. I mean yes. Yes, I will," She stumbled over her words and soon stumbled over his sneakered-feet. The both of them ended up in a pile of sweaty limbs and kisses. Pete slipped the ring onto her left finger, satisfied when her face lit up even brighter. If he was any more of a romantic, he would have told her that she brightened his world as much as the ring brightened her. But he kept that inside, for just right now, because one: he couldn't feel his mouth because two: Myka wouldn't stop kissing him. He'd leave the romantics for later.
"Oh, I almost forgot to ask," She paused, looking at him expectantly for him to finish his statement, "Did you forget the detergent this time?" His answer was another kiss. While he wasn't complaining, he wasn't sure whether that meant yes or no.
He would worry about that later, though.
AN: Ohhh. I love those two. Hope you liked this one!