Anything You Can Do

by R.S. Grey

And then Lucas Thatcher, the same boy I spent my entire life competing against, drops down to one knee and pulls a little black velvet box out of his front pocket. The same black velvet box I’ve sneaked a peek at every morning for the last year. I’m surprised it’s still intact after all my manhandling.

No one can see us when I start to cry, nodding my head yes over and over again. He slips the vintage diamond on my finger—an heirloom from his mom—and we stay there in that alcove making out like randy teenagers until the MC starts calling our name over the mic. Apparently, we are needed.

The last two people who knew Lucas and Daisy were going to end up together forever were Lucas and Daisy.