Page 125 of Cupid Calling
Ejiro grinned, reaching down to pick his camera bag from the bottom of the basket. It was a little cosy, but it had just enough space that they didn’t feel too crowded with Jon behind them.
After securing the strap of his camera around his neck, Ejiro began to take as many photos as possible, wanting to imprint this date on his memory forever. When they’d gone bungee jumping, they’d had the photos they’d taken then enlarged and framed, and Ejiro wanted the same treatment for this date.
He turned to take some playful shots of Obiora, and nearly dropped his camera when he found Obiora down on one knee.
“Obiora,” he gasped, his brain short-circuiting as he let the camera go so it flopped uselessly against his chest. He covered his mouth with his hands. “What are you doing?” His voice was unintentionally shrill.
Ejiro glanced at Jon as if for help, and let out a choked-sounding laugh when he saw Jon was currently filming with another camera, a wide grin on his face. There was a small recorder clipped to his hip, and he pressed the play button, soft music streaming into the air between them.
Ejiro looked back at Obiora, his throat thick.
Obiora had taken his gloves off. His hands were trembling, from a mixture of his nerves and the cold, and he was holding up a dark blue velvet ring box.
Ejiro started to cry. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
The sight of him crying seemed to trigger Obiora’s own tear ducts, because he began to cry, too.
“Ejiro …” he began.
“Oh God,” Ejiro said, wiping his eyes with his gloves, trying to stop crying.
“Ejiro,” Obiora repeated. “Fucking hell. I had an entire fucking speech planned but now that I’m here, in front of you, it’s all gone out the damn window.”
Ejiro managed a laugh.
“Ejiro. I love you. I didn’t believe I could love anyone the way I love you, yet here I am, so full of love I’m practically made of it.”
“Oh my God,” Ejiro half-groaned and half-sobbed, the declaration cheesy and awful and fucking perfect.
“I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” Ejiro said immediately. “Yes, please, yes, yes, yes—”
Obiora was on his feet, slamming their mouths together. They kissed furiously, the kiss wet and salty because of their tears, and laughed when they took Ejiro’s gloves off, but both their hands were trembling too hard to get the ring on.
But then it was on; a plain rose gold band with four small white diamonds inset into the surface. Ejiro loved it so fucking much.
“I love you. I love you so much,” he said, and they were kissing again, the world disappearing around them.
They eventually had to pull apart to breathe, their chests heaving, foreheads pressed together.
Ejiro wiped at his eyes. He laughed a little. “You know, I think I’m still getting used to this biromantic demisexual thing because never in my life did I once imagine I’d get proposed to. I always thought I’d be the one doing the proposing.”
“Well, I mean, you can still propose to me if you want; I won’t complain.”
Ejiro laughed, unable to help but kiss him again. “I just might take you up on that, love.”
“It’s not too soon?” Obiora murmured, trying and failing to sound casual.
Ejiro’s heart ached. “No, baby. If Jon were a priest, I would literally marry you right freaking now.”
“I was ordained in 1999,” Jon deadpanned.
Ejiro’s eyes widened. Obiora’s mouth dropped open.
Jon laughed. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”
“You are awful.” Ejiro laughed, shaking his head, his heart pounding.
