Bad Ideas & Better Kisses

A gasp went through the whole restaurant when he dropped to one knee, staring up at me with something close to awe. Like I was the prettiest girl on earth, and he wanted nothing more than a whole life with me. "Chase Gunn, you didn't," I breathed. "I love you, Roxy," he said, eyes shining. "I always knew you were it for me. I've loved you since we were kids when I took your virginity in Grandma's trailer." Heads snapped toward us like startled deer in headlights. There are three things you need to know right now. 1. My name is Hazel Ellison, not Roxy. 2. My best friend is Evan Cole, not Chase Gunn. 3. I need a new hobby. The steakhouse was called Copper Vine, all high-end and planted in downtown Brooklyn. Gold bars of light had been dimmed over the wood-paneled walls. Conversation buzzed through each velvet booth, but the second Evan knelt in front of my chair, the whole place went quiet. "Roxy, you're everything to me. No one has ever mattered to me the way you do. You stood by me when I got arrested for assault, when I busted out of rehab, and even when I knocked up your mother. You're the only steady thing I have, and I can't picture another day without you." "Oh, Chase," I said, one hand pressed to my heart. Inside the black velvet box sat a curly onion fry. Louder, he said, "Roxy Wilde, I can't wait one second more: Will you marry me?"