As I laid in bed, tangled in my puffy grey comforter, I heard the familiar sound of jangling keys at the front door. The way he fumbled through his keychain, looking for the right one, made my face light up with a smile. I stuck my foot out from the blankets, attempting to leave my cozy nest, but a cool breeze blew by as the front door swung open, and I quickly pulled it back into the warmth. I knew he’d come into the bedroom looking for me, so I convinced myself to stay nestled in the sheets. Frost began to form on my window as the sun began to set. I took this as a sign that my fourth winter in New York City was approaching.

The sweet smell of chamomile drifted into the room. He knew I was home, since he’d never make tea for himself. He was more of an ice tea kind of guy. I wanted to run into the kitchen and hug him, but my toes were toasty and feared the cold wood floor. I hadn’t seen him since yesterday morning. Exhausted from my four hour creative writing course at NYU, I came home and was out like a light. He had a night class and didn’t get home until later. Then of course, I had a ten o’clock class this morning and was out of the apartment before nine. I didn’t want to wake him. His sleeping face was so calm, as if sweet dreams were drifting through his subconscious.

As I daydreamed about yesterday’s memories, he walked in with an Arizona ice tea in one hand and my chamomile in the other. His face was jokingly frowning as he saw me and I giggled. He brought the tea to my bedside and I sat up, letting the blanket fall to my hips. The cool air hit my bare arms, sending goosebumps down to my fingertips. He handed the mug to me and I clutched it in my hands. He gave me a peck on the lips and smiled. I could taste the honey. He must’ve licked the spoon after scooping some into my tea.

He kicked off his shoes before crawling into bed beside me. Still dressed in his hoodie and striped beanie, he snuggled up against my warm body. Both of us sipped our teas. His a chilly sensation and mine a warm happiness. He grabbed the laptop from the bedside and opened up his itunes.. For tonight’s music selection, he chose his all time favorite, ‘Bloc Party.’ We saw them live in Boston our junior year about 4 months after we started dating. Ever since then I guess you can say we’ve considered them, ‘our band.’

Placing the laptop back where he found it, and his Arizona on the floor, he pulled the covers over us and tossed his arms around my waist. I hugged him back and smiled, gazing into his simple brown eyes. ‘This Modern Love’ began to play. It was the first ‘Bloc Party’ song he had introduced me to. I didn’t like it at first, but the more I fell in love with him, the more I fell in love with everything he showed me; everything he loved. As the music played, I closed my eyes and dreamed of my memories. All of a sudden, my dreams were interrupted by a faint voice.

“What’s that?” he whispered into my ear, holding his hand out. He always played this game, where he’d hold out three fingers, as if he were holding something, and if I looked, I lost. I always lost.

“Come on, just look,” he pleaded. So, to satisfy, I looked down at the hand above the covers, sighing in aggravation. And then my eyes landed on his three outstretched fingers. I looked up in amazement. This was no game. Placed between his fingers was a small golden band. Words would not come to me, so I stared blankly at his face. He smiled as if to say I love you and finally, as ‘This Modern Love’ came to it’s end, he looked into my eyes and said,

“Will you marry me?”