"Move you imbecilic beast!" Phillip Shortman shouted. Phil was in a rush and he couldn't be late.
The little, light haired boy with an ice cream cone looked up at the 20 year old with displeasure and shock. Moments later, a cry ripped through the child. Phil barely glanced down as he rushed by him on the sidewalk.
Phillip hurried to get to Chez Paris before his girlfriend arrived. As soon as he found a damned place that sold flowers, that is. The dark haired man continued to scour the streets, looking at any place near the restaurant. When he found nothing, he moodily looked at his watch. He had 15 minutes before Sarah was to arrive. He could (hopefully) make it to Mrs. Vitello's flower shop and back.
'Straight, right, right, left, augh, double back around…' went through Phil's head as he took said directions to arrive. With a huff, he entered the shop, while his emerald eyes immediately flew to the clock above the register. 10 minutes left. He can make it.
He sauntered up to the cash register and looked at the girl behind it. He frowned slightly as the blonde flashed him a faux smile.
"Hello, I'm Bella Bennette, how can I help you today?" Phillip's eyes narrowed.
"Listen, runt. I need a bouquet of flowers for your sister." Phil paused, glancing at the clock again almost compulsively. "You know the kind. And make it snappy!"
The 16 year old Bennette muttered obscenities under her breath as she went to get the flowers. Bella, at the moment, tried to remember why the hell she took this job. With clippers and an agile hand, she cut a few roses and some tiger-lilies for her elder's romantic bouquet. Swiveling, the girl silently tied a green ribbon around the arranged stems and was tempted to slam it on the counter when she returned. But these were for Sarah, Bella had to remember. She refrained.
"Here you go Philla-dork." The teen snapped and rang them up.
Phil slid the cash on the counter and then half turned to inspect the flowers. 7 minutes left. Absentmindedly, he said, "Thanks, Bella."
Said girl froze. Her hazel eyes flew wide open as she gazed at her sister's insane lover. He was dressed fancy, in a suit and tie, and Bella's eyes were drawn to his pocket, which had a bulge in it that looked like a case… for a ring.
Bella swiftly catapulted over the counter and grabbed Phil by his shoulders and 'eep'ed. "No. WAY!"
"What?" Came Phil's suspicious response. The boy tried to pull away but Bella had him in a tight grip.
"You're going to propose!" The teen girl squealed and jumped up and down.
"Watch the flowers!" Phillip cautioned and Bells backed off. The brunette examined the plants to make sure they weren't damaged and whence he was satisfied, he turned back to his rival. "Now." With as much pride as he could muster, Phil glared at the girl with a 'better-than-thou' attitude. Moments later, he slouched and glanced shyly up at her. "How'd you know?"
A smug smile was thrown in his face. "Girls' intuition." After a moment of a locked gaze, Bella's hazel eyes drifted to the clock. "What time is your date?"
Phillip turned and a rugged and dramatic gasp pulled through his lips as his eyes beheld the time-teller. Curses were hissed under his breath as he turned one last final time and jetted for the door. "I'm gonna be late!"
Four minutes left.
Phillip Shortman really hated life. Many things similar to the sentence before flashed through his mind as he crashed through the glass doors of Chez Paris. His feet unfortunately tripped on the red, thin carpet upon his entrance, and as he fell, his eyes caught startled golden ones. His nose slammed into the ground and the dark-haired man grunted in pain.
"Oh my god, Phil!" Sarah gaped and ran to him to help the boy up. She put his arm around her shoulder and proceeded to help him walk (AKA: dragged him) to their table.
Phillip cleared his throat and glanced up at her, with his head tilted down. Stay strands of hair chose that moment to fall into his eye as he murmured, "Thanks." Sarah smiled as she took her seat across from him.
"You're welcome!" She replied sincerely and then started toying with the utensils. Much to his hatred and chagrin, Phil had to admit it: With Sarah's hair down and in soft curls, the candlelight and moonlight mixed around her until she was practically glowing. Her little black dress just added to her mystique.
'Hair as dark as night,
And honey eyes so bright,
You evoke an endless joy
You helped me be a man when I was a boy.
Love has mixed and matched our plans
Or I'm not Phillip Bob Shortm—' That poem was immediately cut off from Phil's head as he hastily grabbed a menu and thanked whatever entity there was out there in the world for the seconds of silence as Sarah did the same. But moments turned to minutes and the quiet and tranquil air engulfed them. But Phil couldn't take it anymore after nearly twenty minutes, clearly shown by his fidgeting. He had to do it. Phil's mouth opened to speak when a waiter intervened. Sarah then proceeded to blab things in that sappy, confusing French stuff, which was surprisingly her vernacular, whilst Phillip's peridot eyes shot daggers and a thousand deaths upon the old mans' head.
"You were saying?" The girl tried flipping her hair over her shoulder, only to have it annoyingly glide back to where it was. Her line made Phil finally snap back to the present.
Immediately, his throat felt dry. "I… I…. I need a drink!" He grasped at the water in front of him and chugged the sparkling, all the while receiving strange looks from those around him.
"Phil…." Sarah started, concerned.
That's when their eyes made contact again. The Shortman knew he had to say it. He wanted to say, how he planned it was, 'I love you. I have since before we started going out way back when we were 11. It wasn't love at first sight, no, but it's better than that. We aren't Romeo and Juliet, we're Phil and Sarah, our own legacy. And I want to stay with you forever. When I was younger, I never believed in or even cared for love, and I definitely never say myself getting married…. But that's what I want to happen.' Then he'd get down on one knee and ask, 'Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?' Then he'd slip the silver ring on her finger, she'd say yes, and they'd be living happily ever after.
But that's not what happened. This is: Phillip nervously and impulsively tossed the ring onto the table at his maybe-fiancé while simultaneously grunting out, "When should we have the wedding? I'm thinking early August."
Sarah's eyes widened as she snatched the mini velvet box and flipped it open. Satisfied with what she saw, she plucked the ring out and slid it on her ring finger.
The rest of the night's conversation was making light conversation about their upcoming wedding.
Sarah sleepily slipped into her home and suppressed a yawn. She tossed her heels that were in her hand onto the floor and dragged her feet across the ragged sand and dirt colored rug to reach the kitchen. She glided into and through the darkness and trudged into the sink. Accidentally, she nearly fell asleep before she got there so she crashed into it. With a grunt, her eyes were wide and awake for a moment before she grabbed the nearest vase, dumped those flowers in the sink, and shoved her new ones in while giving them so fresh water.
In a haze that she could barely remember, Sarah was almost to her room. She only paused when she heard a soft click of a door opening.
The two Bennettes turned to meet each other face to face. Sarah beheld the form of her 'baby' sister's sleepy silhouette, and knew she just woke up. Lucky, Sarah's head whispered in her mind like a lingering breeze. At least she got some sleep!
A thick covered husky voice asked suddenly, "So. How exactly big is the diamond?" before the girls were alive and squealing in glee.
A/N: Four pages. Four pages of tired, half-ass, summer school English teacher approved work. Woot. -_-
And yes, I believe Phil acts slightly OOC here... And that was intentional. I enjoy it. He seems... Helga-esque in this. Well... Good night. That's all I have to say. See you... ya know. Whenever.
Reviews would be splendid!
I haven't been in the bestest of moods lately so a review (long preferably, but it's called 'short and sweet' for a reason) would DEFIANTELY improve my mood at least a little.