"Perfect"

When I'm feeling low on inspiration and have gone a long while without creating some new content, I can usually turn on Sinatra for a little motivation. However (and unfortunately if you're not into it) Sinatra tends only inspire romance. I finished this piece while listening to "all I really need is the girl".

Maybe next time I'll turn on some Nine Inch Nails and see what turns out!

"Perfect"
Aaron M. Smith- July 2nd 2011

“How is it?” I asked.

“It’s great!” She said behind her napkin. Abby had more table manners than any two people I knew put together. “I’m so glad we came here tonight.”

“Well, we’ve been talking about going to L'Escargot de Délicieux for months. I figured why not tonight?”

“Well, it’s just so…” she glanced sidelong at the wine list.

“Don’t worry about it,” I choked out between bites of salmon, and I hoped she thought I was nervous about the price. My stomach was doing flips, but it wasn’t because of the bill.

You don’t have to do it tonight, a voice in the back of my head whispered. Just put it off. Wait for the perfect time.

I’m spending my bonus on this dinner; it’ll be months before I can afford it again, a different voice argued.

The first voice was right; I didn’t have to do it tonight. I compulsively touched the lump in my pocket for the millionth time that night; I was going to rub a hole in my pants at this rate.

I could wait. We could see how my job turned out. I might be getting that promotion next month, after all. It’d be nice to know.

She’ll know about her scholarship information in May, too. And that was only two months away. We’d know if she was going to have to take out more loans.

But then, my lease expired in June. It’d make sense for us to look for a place together, since she basically lived at my apartment as it was. I could save it for a housewarming.

And then there’s the vacation we’re planning on taking in July. Neither of us had ever been on a cruise before. It’d be a lot more romantic on the open sea than eating snails, that was for sure.

“Jeremy?” She said, snapping me back to reality. I realized I’d been holding a forkful of food to my mouth the whole time I’d been daydreaming. The server was standing next to her with a menu. I grinned stupidly and stuck the fork in my mouth.

“Save any room for dessert?” The tuxedoed man said, his faux-French accent making him sound like a drunk Pepe Le Pew. Abby looked at me. She was waiting on me to make a decision.

“Tiramisu, please?” The words leapt out of my mouth before my tongue gave them clearance. Abby’s face lit up; it was her favorite, and I knew it.

As the waiter drifted off, Abby reached across the table for my hand. I took it with the hand that wasn’t reaching into my pants pocket. The square velveteen box was warm.

“Jeremy, this is so perfect,” She whispered.

“Yeah, I think so too,” I said, sliding the box from my pocket.

(P.S. The working title of this story was "balls", but I thought that it sort of ruined the romance.)