“Uh…I don’t really wear anything. Herbal Essence shampoo,” I confess.
He laughs. “Well, it just makes me want to eat you up.”
I swallow and falter a bit, and almost trip on one of those damn roots sticking out. As he grabs my arm, the blanket slips and falls to the ground.
“Are you okay?”
“Uh…yes, I’m fine,” I tell him as I pick up the blanket, which is now covered in pine needles and dirt. “I’m sorry.”
He takes the blanket from me. “It’s fine, as long as you’re not hurt.”
“Yes,” I say. I am fine, physically at least.
Where is that damn meadow already?
As I walk beside him, I try to focus on the crackle beneath my shoes, and not on how beautiful he is and how sweet he’s being. It occurs to me that perhaps a solitary walk in the woods and a quaint picnic in a romantic meadow may not have been the best choice for a break-up location. In movies, break-ups always happen on a street corner, in a busy restaurant, or even over the phone. But I’ve tried the restaurant break-up before and it didn’t go so well. I thought he wouldn’t make a scene, being in public and all, but he did. And what we’ve shared is too important for another soulless break-up in a coffee shop. He deserves more. I fear how he’ll react. I don’t know what to expect and it scares the hell out of me.
I trail purposely behind. Every now and then, he turns back to me and shoots me a smile. I don’t want to walk beside him and flirt. There is no need for foreplay today because nothing will happen between us.
Finally, the sun shines through as we near the meadow. It stretches in front of us, in soft wisps of lime greens, dotted with yellow and white — buttercups and wild daisies. It’s quite breathtaking and I ask myself why I don’t come here more often.
I follow Weston into the meadow.
He shakes out the blanket and whips it in the air, letting it fall gently over the wispy grass and flowers. I wonder if we’re even allowed to set up like this in the meadow. I’m sure we’re breaking some kind of environmental law. The blue blanket looks inviting. My mind immediately wanders to all the fun we could have on it, in an alternate reality.
I bite my lip, chiding myself.
Settle down, girl.
I remind myself why I’m here.
The sun is shining down. I plop down my shades. I take off my purple hoodie, grab its arms and tie a perfect knot around my waist.
Weston grabs the picnic basket and sets it on the blanket. I kneel down next to him, my body not quite itself. I feel so awkward, unsure of myself. I’m not quite sure how I’m going to go about this. He pulls on the basket’s belt-like straps and opens it to reveal a nice selection of snacks. He is as methodical as ever as he spreads out a small checkered table cloth over the blanket. I smile as I watch him intently. He sets a plate in the center and puts two cute little matching sea-themed spreading knifes on the plate. He lays out crackers in a perfect line; like fallen dominoes, the goat cheese and the small jar of my favorite fig spread. My mouth salivates at the sight. He ventures a look up at me and I give him a wide smile of appreciation. “I’m impressed.”
He smiles. “I try.”
He plops a bunch of green grapes on the plate, and pulls a bottle of rosé from the basket. “I also brought some Orangina if you’d prefer.”
“No thanks, I’m fine with the wine.”
Finally, he pulls out a pretty little blue velvet box which he sets on the blanket. My breath catches at the sight of it. He looks at me but doesn’t say a word. I try to read his expression but I can’t. I see nothing but a mix of emotions; hope, love, sorrow. I pray to God it’s not what I think it is. Not only will I have to break up with him, but I’ll have to turn down a marriage proposal too.
No, he wouldn’t.
I grab a cracker and spread some of the delicious looking cheese on it, but somehow, my appetite has left me again. It may have a little something to do with the blue velvet box.