Read Online Buddha Baby by Kim Wong Keltner - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kim Wong Keltner
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Moments later Michael rolled over and they lay side by side for a minute or so, exhaling the contented sighs of the recently nailed.
Propping himself on an elbow, Michael turned to face Lindsey and played with several tangled strands of her hair. He gazed at her for a moment, then whispered, "I like how you trimmed your bangs." He gently touched her forehead and brushed a few wisps of hair to the side.
"Most guys wouldn't have even noticed."
He rolled over her and said, "I hope you like me more than most guys."
She struggled as he playfully held her down. "I'd venture to say I
very
like you."
Michael lay on his back and gazed at the ceiling. Staring into space he said, "Remember when I rented
Fight Club
, and then I thought it would be tough to get in that brawl with that giant from Ireland's 32? That fucker knocked my lights out, but you never said, 'I told ya so.' You just went and got an ice pack."
Lindsey turned to face him. "What made you think about that?"
Michael was pensive and didn't answer right away. He continued on his own train of thought. He said, "Do you know what I like about you?"
She looked at him quizzically.
He said, "When we get into arguments, even when you're really pissed at me, you don't tear me to shreds like I know you could. Even when you're hating me, you're loving me."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I can see steam coming out of your little head and you're simmering, but you never go for the jugular, and in the way you look at me there's something, I don't know. It's like you've already forgiven me. You're like a cat and I'm a mouse you've caught, and instead of sinking your teeth into me, you just let me go. I don't know what I'm trying to say."
"I know you're mine, so I let you live."
"Yeah."
Michael propped himself up on an elbow. "I'm glad you woke me up the other night when you had a bad dream. I need someone to make milkshakes for at two in the morning, and I want that person to always be you. I know you prefer it all smooth, but when I goof and leave the bananas too chunky you still say it's perfect and that makes me feel pretty perfect, too…"
He pushed up and rolled over her again, making sure not to squish her. He went on, "I hope that I make you feel as good, as happy and strong as you make me feel. In fact, I hope that you want to be with me for a really long time, as much as I, right now, very positively want to be with you. I guess what I'm trying to say is, well… let's get married. Will you… marry me?"
Lindsey couldn't quite believe what she'd heard. Did he just say… Yes. He said the word
marry
. This was not a joke with a punch line.
After all the marriage proposals she had watched in movies and on television she never once imagined how
the question
might be asked in real life, and more to the point, to
her
specifically.
Michael's words were still floating above her head as her mind sprinted off in several directions at once. She thought about when they first started going out. He always called when he said he would, not three hours later or even three days later, but exactly the time he said. In her dating universe before she met him, she had such low expectations that Michael's courtesy and common decency were a revelation. As their romance progressed, his everyday chivalry had quickly won her over.
She recalled how once he took her swimming along the American River, and he helped her climb down the steep embankment while simultaneously carrying towels, a cooler full of food, and a small tent so she would have shade to sit in. She carefully noted that he had quietly noticed her aversion to the sun and factored this detail into his preparations. The fact that he brought a tent had impressed her, and his tender attentive-ness had melted her heart as well as her, um, panties.
Michael consistently considered her needs first. He always gave her the bigger piece of pie, the cake with more frosting, or the unburnt toast. He even claimed to like burnt toast so she wouldn't have
Propping himself on an elbow, Michael turned to face Lindsey and played with several tangled strands of her hair. He gazed at her for a moment, then whispered, "I like how you trimmed your bangs." He gently touched her forehead and brushed a few wisps of hair to the side.
"Most guys wouldn't have even noticed."
He rolled over her and said, "I hope you like me more than most guys."
She struggled as he playfully held her down. "I'd venture to say I
very
like you."
Michael lay on his back and gazed at the ceiling. Staring into space he said, "Remember when I rented
Fight Club
, and then I thought it would be tough to get in that brawl with that giant from Ireland's 32? That fucker knocked my lights out, but you never said, 'I told ya so.' You just went and got an ice pack."
Lindsey turned to face him. "What made you think about that?"
Michael was pensive and didn't answer right away. He continued on his own train of thought. He said, "Do you know what I like about you?"
She looked at him quizzically.
He said, "When we get into arguments, even when you're really pissed at me, you don't tear me to shreds like I know you could. Even when you're hating me, you're loving me."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I can see steam coming out of your little head and you're simmering, but you never go for the jugular, and in the way you look at me there's something, I don't know. It's like you've already forgiven me. You're like a cat and I'm a mouse you've caught, and instead of sinking your teeth into me, you just let me go. I don't know what I'm trying to say."
"I know you're mine, so I let you live."
"Yeah."
Michael propped himself up on an elbow. "I'm glad you woke me up the other night when you had a bad dream. I need someone to make milkshakes for at two in the morning, and I want that person to always be you. I know you prefer it all smooth, but when I goof and leave the bananas too chunky you still say it's perfect and that makes me feel pretty perfect, too…"
He pushed up and rolled over her again, making sure not to squish her. He went on, "I hope that I make you feel as good, as happy and strong as you make me feel. In fact, I hope that you want to be with me for a really long time, as much as I, right now, very positively want to be with you. I guess what I'm trying to say is, well… let's get married. Will you… marry me?"
Lindsey couldn't quite believe what she'd heard. Did he just say… Yes. He said the word
marry
. This was not a joke with a punch line.
After all the marriage proposals she had watched in movies and on television she never once imagined how
the question
might be asked in real life, and more to the point, to
her
specifically.
Michael's words were still floating above her head as her mind sprinted off in several directions at once. She thought about when they first started going out. He always called when he said he would, not three hours later or even three days later, but exactly the time he said. In her dating universe before she met him, she had such low expectations that Michael's courtesy and common decency were a revelation. As their romance progressed, his everyday chivalry had quickly won her over.
She recalled how once he took her swimming along the American River, and he helped her climb down the steep embankment while simultaneously carrying towels, a cooler full of food, and a small tent so she would have shade to sit in. She carefully noted that he had quietly noticed her aversion to the sun and factored this detail into his preparations. The fact that he brought a tent had impressed her, and his tender attentive-ness had melted her heart as well as her, um, panties.
Michael consistently considered her needs first. He always gave her the bigger piece of pie, the cake with more frosting, or the unburnt toast. He even claimed to like burnt toast so she wouldn't have
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