Author's Note: Epilogue! It is looong, with time jumps and everything. It's basically a retrospective, with everybody and their mother giving their opinion on Blake and Andie…
Y'all, it feels so bittersweet to let this story go. Even when I was too tired/uninspired/busy to write it I was thinking about it…
But mostly I feel good about the ending of this epic (in terms of the ridiculous amount of time I took to finish it) love story, and grateful to everyone who liked these two enough to stick around At last, I love you and leave you, dancing as I go…
Jimmie messes up. Which would be funny if it wasn't so sad. He practiced longer and harder than anyone, but still misses a step. Maybe the pressure to perform, to impress his parents, peers and potential employers, finally got to him…
In the end nobody notices, apart from his classmates. And his former teacher.
Blake scolds him backstage, while the others crowd around…
"You didn't let anyone down. You did your absolute best. And you did me proud. You all did."
Jimmie shakes his head, inconsolable, but manages an almost inaudible thank you. A friend ushers him to the dressing rooms, and everybody else scatters…except for one.
"See, I told you it would work out! For the most part…"
"Yes, well…I told anyone who would listen that this was your concept."
Moose seems taken aback. "Seriously? Wow, thanks, man. I'm gonna need all the help I can get."
Blake shrugs. "Not from me. Not anymore. You were great. And I never should've doubted you."
Much to Blake's horror, the boy starts to get teary eyed. He lowers his curly head and looks away.
He wipes his nose hastily. "No. I mean…I don't know. I just…things didn't end the way I thought they would."
Blake stares at him for a while before asking: "What makes you think this is the end?"
Moose shrugs and looks up, trying to smile. "Hey, are you coming to the party?"
"Depends on Andie?" he asks, startling the director. "Yeah, I figured she was your favorite. Don't worry, she'll be there." Blake exhales. That is what worries him. "But Chase won't. Neither will Sophie. I guess they're doing their own thing…"
Blake can see him deflating again and suddenly he feels responsible. "Well, I was planning on never seeing any of you ever again but…sure. Why not? You can teach me how to street dance."
"Ha! How much time do you have...?"
The Dragon roars. On the dancefloor, surrounded by club-goers, Jimmie lets go of anything and everything to do with ballet. For the first time in a long time he looks unrehearsed; like he's dancing just because. The secret tequila shots might have something to do with it…
Andie, on the other hand, is hunched over the bar, nursing her glass. She won't dance. Not after the way he freaked her out, showing up in the audience unannounced; watching her so closely she almost lost focus and missed a step; studying her, instead of staring guiltily at the ground, which would've been more appropriate considering how he left-
Andie almost drops her drink, causing the contents to splatter over her hand. "Could you not with the sneak attacks?" she snaps, torn between anger at being caught off guard and embarrassment at being uncool about it.
"My apologies," he murmurs, reaching for a napkin.
She glares up at him as he glances down at her. "What're you doing here?"
"What're you doing here? Not having a good time, obviously…"
"I was having a great time before you showed up."
"Looks like it." He smiles a little and the rhythm of her heartbeat is thrown off again. "You danced beautifully by the way."
"I learned from the best," she mutters, snatching the napkin so she has something else to focus on. "He's over there, twerking."
Blake casts an amused look at Jimmie and turns back to her. "Do you want to go home?"
"Andie, we need to talk."
She makes the mistake of looking at him and it cracks her resolve… "Moose will wanna know where I went. And Missy and Felicia are coming…"
"They'll survive without you," he insists, taking the glass and putting his hand in its place. "We have some catching up to do…"
The house feels alien to them both. It always seemed weirdly empty – even more so now with most of his stuff in a storage unit and their footsteps resonating in the dark…
Andie trails Blake to the living room and he turns on a lamp, casting the lone couch in a glow that's nowhere near as warm as it looks. He suggests they sit and she refuses, knowing what 'talk' might turn into if they do…
"So. How was your trip?"
For the past six months she has grappled with anger, over everything and nothing. It only aggravates her more that he looks so guileless now - perched on the armrest, hands clasped as if in prayer, dark eyes searching hers. His hair is a little long, tinted brown by the sun, and the five o'clock shadow grows unchecked…
"You ask like I didn't leave you an unreasonable number of voicemails," he says. "They were basically a travelogue. Did you not listen to any of them?"
She listened to all of them.
"…did you get at least get your gift?"
She got it, the day before her 18th birthday, and left it sitting on her nightstand for weeks. Andie would fall asleep glaring at it and wake up glaring at it. A little white box with silver filigree and ribbon…
Sarah must have noticed at some point, having poked her head into the room more than once to insist that Andie get her ass out of bed. Only when she threatened to take the thing away and sell it on eBay did Andie descend upon it like an eagle over the last egg in its nest.
She tore away the wrapping paper, noticing distantly that her fingers were trembling as they fumbled the ring box. It wasn't an engagement ring, which – duh. She was a teenager, they were never really together, and who wanted a proposal sent in the mail anyway…?
The band was glossy silver, with a little swan carrying blue gemstones. Even though she's never been big into jewelry, she felt a Gollum-like compulsion to put it on.
She wore it on the chain around her neck instead, not caring if it clashed, and chuckled bleakly at the memory of Chase's 'Air Conditioning' pendant…
"I guess the answer is yes."
Andie hears the humor in his voice and realizes too late that she's still wearing it.
Blake catches the look in her eyes and modifies his facial expression hastily. "Obviously you're still mad at me."
"What gave you that idea?" she drawls, breaking her own stony silence. And before he can say anything thing else she drops the pretense entirely. "Yeah, I'm still mad! Because while you were off acting out your version of Eat, Pray, Love, I was stuck with a class that hated me 'cause someone started a rumor that I cheated on Chase with Tuck."
Blake narrowed his eyes, as if the idea was so impossible he had to squint to fathom it. "The guy who assaulted him and vandalized the school…"
"I know, right?" she says, allowing the anger to slip from her grip for a second. "They figured I had to have cheated with somebody, 'cause we ended so abruptly, and he was the worst person they could think of."
"…worse than the guy who is his brother and also your former teacher?"
His disbelief had a hint of hilarity to it, which she did not appreciate. "It's not funny. The point is it was a shitty situation and you left me alone in it."
"Well, what the hell else was I supposed to do?" he asks, his calm demeanor giving way to something less appeasing. "Stay and hurt him even more? Take you with me and ruin everything you worked for?"
"No," she says, more defensively than she intended. But it would have been nice to talk through their options…
"I wanted to," Blake says. "I wanted you there so badly it was pathetic. I saw these amazing things and met these incredible people and it was wasted on me because all I wanted to do was sit in a hotel room and call you. Do you know how many times I almost got on a flight back home?"
Andie opens her mouth to answer with something snarky, but nothing comes to mind. She looks down, suddenly unable to match his gaze.
"Maybe you should've said that in a voicemail," she murmurs. "I might've called back."
Blake laughs, but it's the half-hearted kind that comes from someone who's tired of talking. Silence settles over them like a scratchy blanket, crackling with static, and Andie sways awkwardly, tucking her hands in the shallow pockets of her dress.
"It's been a shitty six months." He reaches out to pull her to him and she feels her resolve shatter like spun glass. "More so for you than me, and I'm sorry. But I'm here now. I don't want to miss you anymore."
Yeah, Andie thinks, winding her arms around his neck as he plants kisses along hers. Neither does she.
"Chase and Sophie are going to LA."
Blake wonders fleetingly if Chase and Sophie are appropriate fodder for pillow talk. It is still very much a touchy subject, shrouded in things left unsaid. But they can talk about whatever she wants as long as she just stays here like this, splayed across his chest with thighs entwined.
"I heard," he says. He heard in a phone call, to be specific. Cybil told him during their weekly wellness check. She seemed a little too excited about it. Like this was an answer to one of many prayers concerning her sons.
"Moose wants to go to NYU. To major in engineering," she says with something like disgust. "What the fuck is that about?"
Blake hums his amusement. "He'll always be a dancer, no matter what he majors in."
He can feel her frowning, but she doesn't add anything else.
"So…NYU for Moose, Alvin Ailey for Jimmie…what about you?"
She takes a significant amount of time before she responds…
"I was thinking Towson? I can major in Dance Performance and get a teaching certificate for Maryland public schools. So I have a safety net if my Backup Dancer for Beyoncé plan falls through."
"You don't want to go for a bigger city?"
"Sure, after a few more years working on technique. But my friends are here; Charlie and Sarah are here. I wouldn't mind being close to home for a little while longer before I move on, maybe to New York. "
Blake nods, impressed by how thoroughly she seems to have thought this through. "New York sounds good. Broadway was always Plan B for me if the ballet didn't work out. I might try my hand at choreography."
Andie rises up onto her elbows to stare down at him. "So you're just inviting yourself along, huh?"
That seems to hit a panic button in his brain as he splutters: "Well, I just thought – I don't mean to assume – it's just if that's something you might want I would-"
She smiles impishly and waits for him to figure out she was kidding. After a second he does and rolls his eyes to the ceiling. Andie turns onto her side, sprawling across his chest again.
"I'm glad you're home."
Yeah, he thinks as she dozes off. So is he.
Blake was born into a privileged position. Not so privileged that he never had to work for anything, but enough that he can uproot himself on a whim and settle down somewhere else. Selling his house is hardly the most impulsive move he's made since Andie, but it still feels like a big step away from his past life.
They go apartment-hunting together, deciding on a loft with floor-to-ceiling windows. She balks at the (relatively reasonable) rent and semi-ironically mutters under her breath about rich white people…
She stays on campus during the week; spends every weekend at his place (every weekend except for the occasional one with Jo). She helps him decorate but has no idea what she's doing and just fills it with whatever odds and ends she finds in thrift shops.
"It's a conversation piece!" she protests, jumping up to try and grab the cactus (adorned with googly-eyes and a cowboy hat) that he holds aloft.
Blake unpacks his boxes of books and music and doesn't care where anything else goes (except for the cactus, which she decides to hide in various places around the loft, rescuing it from the trashcan every time he throws it away). This is their home for now, free from the judgment of family members and interior decorators alike…
Andie's pretty sure she has the college thing down pat. She decides on Theatre Arts as her minor and it turns out she actually enjoys studying, more than she ever did in high school. She makes a few friends, their bonds forged in the trenches of freshmen year. And she gets a part-time job at the campus coffee shop so she doesn't have to lean too heavily on Sarah for money. She doesn't want to lean on Blake at all, but he has a bad habit of just paying for everything anyway, which eventually leads to an argument in the aisle of a grocery store that they're too embarrassed to shop at anymore…
The thought of belonging to a crew again doesn't really enter her mind until she stumbles into one. But once she's in it she realizes how much she missed it…
'The Travelers' are led by Brian, a Poli Sci major with cornrows and a panther tattoo hugging his bicep. He tags her in an impromptu dance battle that breaks out at some house party, and even though he wipes the floor with her, much like Tyler once did, he still invites her to check out the dance studio he and his friends frequent.
They're co-captained by his girlfriend Priya, a Film Studies major, who – with her half-shaved head and glittering piercings - becomes a bit of an obsession for Andie. Blake picks up on the girl crush, after hearing her gush for the umpteenth time, and teases her relentlessly for it.
Between school, work and crew practice, she sees him a lot less than she'd like. He seems okay with it, though, busy as he is with the Ballet Theatre of Maryland. He casually slipped into a position there, recommended by a friend of a friend and hired on sight. They're as happy to have him for the 'Collins' name recognition as they are for his expertise, and he's happy to hone his skills as a choreographer. Andie's just happy he has a job that doesn't fill him with constant angst…
They settle into a routine that can be boiled down to eat, sleep, dance, with a few hours left over for extracurricular activities (sometimes reading, sometimes TV- mostly sex). To a normal couple it might be unremarkable. But they're not entirely normal, and they like it because it's unremarkable.
A year flies by and the Travelers are gearing up for the Streets. Andie pushes herself to her limits because she was part of a winning team and she feels a lot of self-imposed pressure to perform. Maybe she pushed herself beyond her limits, or maybe she overestimated how far those limits extend, because she winds up with an injury that threatens to end her career before it begins…
"It's not over," Blake says, wrapping himself around her like he can protect her from something that's already happened. "You're gonna get better. And this will just be a footnote in your history."
Easy for you to say, she thinks, staring red-eyed over his shoulder. Him and her friends and her crew who feel 'really bad'about what happened, but not so bad that they can't find an immediate replacement…
Blake and Andie don't fight about money anymore but it was never really about money. It was about him being able to do things she can't. It was about feeling not quite good enough…
She hates the ugly, bitter little creature that's started to grow from this, attaching itself to their happiness like a sickness. And she doesn't know how to fight it off…
Blake can see her curling in on herself, and he doesn't know how to reach out to her. She's a raw nerve, recoiling at the slightest contact with anyone or anything. Going to school bothers her, being with friends bothers her, watching dance videos bothers her, talking about his job bothers her…
Which sucks for both of them, because the theatre is holding an end-of-year performance, featuring all the greatest hits from Swan Lake, The Nutcracker, Coppelia…and one original piece from former MSA Director Blake Collins.
He's intimidated, despite himself, and excited – more than he's ever been for any project. But he can't talk about it, because it might upset her. And he can't hold that against her. She is living a dancer's nightmare and he'll never know how that feels.
He knows he would hate empty platitudes, though. No matter how good the intentions of the person offering them, he would want to bite their heads off for pretending to understand…
So he doesn't, deciding instead to side-step emotion like it's an overturned trashcan. It seems easier. Not better, but easier…
Sometimes she comes to rehearsals, as some masochistic show of support. He introduces her to the company and immediately regrets it. This sullen person hobbling around with her head down isn't Andie. It's a snapshot of Andie, without context. And he wants to tell them that, he wants to tell them ('she's normally funny and sexy and friendly'), but at the end of the day she is none of their business. So he kisses her goodbye and gets back to work…
"Do you need anything?" Blake asks when he gets home.
"Tylenol," she grumbles, sinking further into her spot on the couch. "Music in there was crazy loud. Feel like I got beat up by an orchestra."
Blake grimaces in acknowledgment. "Duly noted. It'll be perfect on the night." Better than perfect. It has to be…
He heads to the bathroom, opening up the medicine cabinet (or 'the tiny pharmacy' as they've taken to calling it) and bringing out the pill bottle. When he stops in the kitchen for a glass of water, he hears her mutter, sotto voce:
"Doesn't help that Ava's voice is like nails on a chalkboard."
Blake bristles a little at that. She's not wrong, but she's also never had a bad word to say about Ava - the otherwise pleasant principal dancer.
"Well, it's a good thing she's dancing, not singing," he says, handing her the painkillers and water.
She huffs a humorless laugh, stiffening a little when he kisses her temple. They lapse into silence as she turns on the TV, flipping through channels while he gets started on dinner. He tries to nudge her into conversation but she barely responds, reminding him once again why talking shop is a bad idea…
"Sarah asked me to look after Charlie tomorrow," she says over dinner, like she just remembered. "She got hit with back-to-back night shifts."
Blake tries to work his face into a neutral expression. Tomorrow is Saturday, the one day they've managed to carve out for each other. Friday and Sunday barely count – they're either wrapping up the week or prepping for the start of the week. But Charlie seems to be the only person that Andie can spend time with right now without coming out of the interaction in a bad mood. And Blake isn't about to pout over her skipping one weekend with him…
It's not just the one, though. Every other week there's a reason she can't be around. He starts to miss her, which is not a feeling he ever wanted to feel again after those six months away. But he won't push her. He never wants to push, or pressure, because even though he's not her teacher anymore, he still has thirteen years on her and there are power dynamics to consider…
So Blake focuses all his energy on the ballet, working the dancers so hard they start calling him Dictator Collins ("Emphasis on the dick," Ava stage-whispers, very aware that he can hear). It doesn't bother him. He survived studying and teaching at MSA, so this is child's play…
Before he knows it, it's show time. And Andie isn't here.
He texts at lunch, and finds himself checking his phone every half hour for her reply. He knows she knows what today is. She marked it on the kitchen calendar, weeks ago…
An hour before he has to suit up and leave for the show, the phone pings with a text notification. Blake isn't sure what he expected, but it sure as hell wasn't:
I'm so sry. Something came up with Priscilla, I don't think I can
Blake doesn't read the rest. He can't. Because if she's saying what he thinks she's saying then he's going to throw his phone at the wall.
Instead he drives over to her dorm, only making it inside the building by following a student in a bright yellow Towson Tigers t-shirt. He doesn't have a key card, and he's clearly older than anybody living here, but she's too focused on her phone to notice. Thank god for that. He wouldn't want to freak her out. He's kind of freaking himself out…
When Blake gets to the fourth floor and finds her door, he doesn't knock so much as hammer. There's muffled shuffling and murmuring, before it cracks open.
Andie stands stock still, wearing a beanie and sweats, with a look of mild shock on her face.
"What are you doing here? You never come here."
"And I'm never coming here again," he mutters. "Why aren't you dressed?"
She blinks, looking a little cornered. "…didn't you get my text?"
"I got it. But whatever you've got going on here can't be that important."
"Priscilla's sick. She doesn't have anybody else to-" Andie backs up a little as he steps forward, pushing the door open.
Priscilla is sprawled over her bed in a sparkly dress – smudged makeup and messy hair suggesting she had a rough night.
"…is she okay? Did something happen?"
"She's hungover!" Blake exclaims, gesturing at her in disbelief. "She'll live!"
At the sound of his raised voice, Priscilla groans and pulls a pillow over her head. Andie shushes him, shoving him out into the hallway with one hand and shutting the door behind her with another.
"Look, she's having a tough time, okay? She's never been away from home-"
"Andie," Blake presses his hands together as if in prayer. He takes a deep breath before continuing: "Your roommate does not need you. Ido."
Her glare softens around the edges, turning into something between regret and dread. "I don't have anything to wear."
"Yes, you do. You're not the street dancer in sweats anymore. You must have something."
"Nothing that goes with crutches," she snaps, and it occurs to him that she looks exactly like the street dancer in sweats right now. She still is that person, he reminds himself, and she always will be in a way. It's not a bad thing. She's who he fell for. But he needs her to put her stuff aside for a night and just support him.
"No one will care about your crutches. They'll be looking at the dancers, not you."
Blake realizes immediately that this is not the right thing to say to a dancer on crutches. He fixes his mouth to course correct but it's too late.
"I'm not worried about people looking at me," she mutters.
"Then what is it?" he asks, struggling for patience. "You need to help me understand; preferably in the next five minutes. Because I've been putting up with your self-pity for months and I'm not doing it tonight."
At that, her eyes start to glisten and Blake starts to feel like absolute shit. When Andie speaks her voice comes slow and steady – like a tightrope act fighting to stay upright…
"I'm not going."
For a moment, Blake can't quite believe how quickly this is all falling apart. "Andie-"
"I'm not going."
"…fine," he says, in a tone of voice that could not be further from fine. "I'll see you at home."
He barely takes a step before she speaks again, low and hollow. "It's not home. It's a place you pay for. I just visit."
Blake swivels round, feeling a little disoriented, as she slams the door in his face. He doesn't know how long he stands there before his phone starts buzzing with calls and texts, trying to find out where the hell he is…
"I need to see her."
"She's not here."
"Well, she's not at Towson. Her roommate said she dropped out."
"Priscilla said that? Please. That girl doesn't know her ass from her elbow. Andie didn't drop out, she's taking a leave of absence. She'll be back once she's better."
"Okay. That's…that's good to hear." A painfully awkward silence passes before: "Well, since she's not here, and she's ignoring my calls, could you pass on a message for me?"
Andie inhales sharply, wishing she would have stayed in her room with her headphones on, instead of perching on the obnoxiously creaky staircase. If she moves he'll know that not only is she here, she's chickenshit. Too scared of what he'll say to answer his calls or read his texts or meet face-to-face…
"Tell her she needs to pick up the Cactus Cowboy."
"It's a…cactus. Wearing a cowboy hat. It's ridiculous but she loves it so…she should come pick him up or else he's going in the trash."
Andie exhales, fiddling unconsciously with the swan ring on her finger.
"…guess he's going in the trash then," she murmurs, once Sarah closes the door on him. "'Cause I can't go back there. Sarah."
Sarah leans against the railing and listens to Andie ramble. This is the first time Andie has made explicit what was once implicit. That they dated, that they kind of lived together, that they love each other (loved each other)…
Once she's all talked out, her guardian regards her for a minute before speaking: "When you got into MSA, I thought that might be the end of you doin' dumb and dangerous shit. Guess I was wrong."
"I'm not gonna lecture you. You're growing up. Faster than I would've liked but…what's done is done. All I want to say is, whatever happens next, you'll be all right."
Andie shakes her head. "It doesn't feel like it."
A smile tugs at the corners of Sarah's mouth. "You will be. You're a risk taker like your mother. You make mistakes and you bounce back. Look at you now. You graduated high school, you got into college, and you are going back. You've got friends that love you, a family that loves you, despite how hard it is to be around you sometimes. So stop feeling sorry for yourself, stop fretting over that man. Go out and do something with your life."
Andie finds her fingers grazing the ring again. It's not what she wants to hear but it must be what she needs to hear because it gets her out of bed in the morning and it gets her mind off Blake…
She applies for jobs here and everywhere else, looking for anything that could use her skill set. She may never be a backup dancer for Beyoncé, but she could design a costume for her, or handle the lighting on a photo shoot, or – while she's dreaming big – do the choreography for a music video…
Andie gets back in touch with all her old MSA friends. She saves Moose for last, partly because he's the one she's worried will resent her most for her radio silence.
But he's so insanely hyped to maybe possibly have her there that he barely lets her get an apology in. He wants her to meet his 'new boo' Camille ("Tyler's foster sister, Camille?!") and promises he'll keep his eye out for any 'worthy' opportunities.
Moose mentions in passing he's competing in the World Jam, and then he wins the shit, which doesn't' surprise her…
What does surprise (and scare) her is being brought into a new group (with Sean and Kido and Hair and Monster and goddamn Twitch, omg I can't deal he's here). It chips away at her fear. And it reminds her that she's awesome…
And she kisses Sean, because he's hot as hell, and he's into her, and he's not her boyfriend's brother, or her older teacher.
But it occurs to her later that the whole world is watching…
In the bathroom she ugly cries and drafts a drunk text, explaining why it's not that serious and she still loves him and please don't…
Cybil calls him some days to drop hints that she knows what's wrong with him. It is deeply irritating…
"So how is she?"
"You know who."
"Leave me alone."
"I will as soon as you stop playing that song."
His heart jolts. How the hell did she – oh, because he's drunk and it's playing in the background.
"Leave me alone."
"Blake, she messaged me."
At that, anger rises in his throat like bile, and he tries with all his might to swallow it. "Why would she do a thing like that?"
"Because you're ignoring her calls."
Blake hangs up and reaches for his glass, downing the contents in one go. He lets the buzz settle in before fumbling around for his phone, realizing he's sitting on it, then finding her number and dialing. Somewhere in the back of his mind he is terrified…
"What do you want?"
"…funny way of showing it."
He hears her inhale, and even that stirs something in him. He grabs the bottle and pours another shot.
"When I got injured I thought I'd lost the best part of myself. The part my mom gave me...I guess I was afraid I wouldn't be good enough…for you or anybody."
"Good enough," he says, like he's trying to grasp a foreign language. "I knew you were–"
"Let me talk," she says.
He acquiesces, sinks into the sound her of voice; hates that she can make him listen.
"Pride is kind of a big deal to me. And for a while I felt robbed of it. I felt like you had everything…you were born with everything. I resented that. So I pushed you away, even though I knew you weren't 'that guy'. And I get that you were trying to be there for me when I was hurt. And I'm so, so sorry. Please open the door."
Blake stumbles, mentally. It takes him a full minute to actually get to his feet and make his way to the door.
Sure as shit she's there, eyes brimming with tears. He tries with everything in him to keep from reaching out to her; kissing her.
"I love you so fucking much, Blake."
And he fails. "Don't leave me again."
"I love you."
"I love you."
Even as he clings to her, Blake feels himself let go.
Chase calls to tell Blake; Sophie calls to tell Andie. After the overenthusiastic congratulations, and promises of invitations, they confer with each other on how exactly to handle this. They can either turn up in separate cars like coy celebrities, or admit to what they all know they have known for the past few years…
"The whole Collins clan will be there. It'll basically be a family reunion. I don't want to turn it into a…coming out party for us."
They each consult the bride and groom, who laugh it off.
"Don't worry about it, babe. You can just…be there, together, and nobody will make a big deal out of it."
"It's fine, bro. No matter how weird your relationship is to me...it's fine."
Sophie and Chase are pretty much the entertainment at their own wedding. They dance down the aisle, they dance after they're declared man and wife, they dance to open the floor (which Moose and Camille tear up)…
Months later, they're in the aisle of a grocery store, arguing over a head of iceberg lettuce. Andie thinks they don't need so much freaking lettuce and Blake…Blake wants to have this argument this argument for the rest of his life.
So he drops to one knee, feeling a little bit crazed, and asks – "Andie, would you-?"
"I don't have a ring yet-"
She drops down in front of him, laughing, and throws her arms around him. "I have the swan one, Einstein, whatever, yes."
He gets up and ducks down to kiss her, wrapping his arms around her waist as she winds hers around his neck.
She was never that into jewelry anyway.