 Cristina Oramas is currently working on her B.F.A. degree from Full Sail University. She loves to share stories that are close to her heart, as well as share her love of fantasy through her writing. On her free time, she enjoys exploring Florida’s beautiful scenery, and curling up with a good book. Prove It
He wraps his arms around me, keeping me warm. Their weight falls around me like a security blanket. The smell of his cologne and the wood burning before us blend into a therapeutic aroma of hickory smoked, clean laundry. The crackle of wood burning, and the song he dedicates to me, play in the background as we sit on the smooth white bench he built with his own hands. Every star is visible in the night sky. The gentle wind blows my hair back. I stare into the vastness of our universe. The significance of our lives is revealed in the millions of stars around us. He tells me he loves me. I say, “I don’t believe you.” He tells me he loves me again. I say, “prove it.” He pulls a ring out from his pocket. Its diamonds glimmering under the moonlight. It was as brilliant as his spirit and modest as his soul. His hands tremble as he presents it. No words spoken, just the sound of low music continuing to play, and the wood crackling around us. Warm tears run down my cheeks, taking with them speckles of mascara. They leave smudges of makeup on my skin; a map of the hard road he’s preparing to take with me by his side. I kiss him. The taste of wine on his lips, sweet and tart. My fingers run through his hair, I kiss him harder. He tells me he loves me. I say, “prove it.” My skin reacts to the ring like electricity and water as he slides it on my finger; the only thing in the world it craved. I tell him that I love him. He stops for a moment and then smiles. “Prove it,” he replies.
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