Page 11 of The Proposal Problem
“Yes...positive.”
“Well, youmightwanna rethink it,” she says, nodding pointedly at something.
I follow her line of sight, not sure what the fuck she’s on about.
“What?” I ask again, glancing around the bed, “What the fuck, Sammi?”
“Percy, yourhand.”
“What about my—”
I feel all the air in me leave my body.
Oh, fuck.
“Oh, fuck,” I say, aloud this time.
I stand quickly, making a point of holding my hand far from me, like it’s contagious. It may as well be for all it represents.
“What the hell did I do?”
“Percy, don’t freak out,” Mysti advises, her eyes as big as saucers.
Yeah, fucking right.
Wrapped around my finger, shining at me like some kind of evil fucking beacon, is a ring.
Adiamondring.
“Holy shit. Did I get married?” I demand, whipping around wildly to look at each of them.
No one responds, their faces looking just as surprised as mine. And just like that, my head fuck spins.
