I'd Stop the World

Though the night air was crisp, nipping at her neck as she pulled her long sweater around her shoulders, Amy Dumas walked with a spring in her step. Their relationship had been a string of ups and downs, but he had promised her that tonight would be the greatest night of her life. Her boyfriend of six years, Matt Hardy, was going to meet her at her favorite restaurant and make this the greatest night of her life.

When she had left her home in South Carolina, her parents had warned her to stay out of dark alleys and to never walk around in unfamiliar neighborhoods at night. She had rolled her eyes and huffed that they were being ridiculous. Yes, New York City had it's dangerous sections, but why in the world would she ever find herself alone there? She was a journalism student, for heaven's sake.

But tonight, their advice kind of made sense. Every sound was heightened as she rushed, as quickly as her high-heels would allow, through what could only be described as one of the "bad parts" of town. On their first night at NYU, Matt and Amy had taken a walk to get a feel for their new surroundings. That's when they had stumbled upon "Eduardo's," a hold-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant with the best tostadas Amy had ever tasted.

They had shared lunch at the restuarant on several occasions over the next two years, so Amy had never noticed just how sinister the surrounding area seemed under cover of night. Though there were no cars in the street, and no one to be seen, she couldn't help but feel she was being followed. Checking over her shoulder, she shifted her messenger bag over her hip and quickened her step again.

Dammit, Matt, she thought, feeling a chill streaking up her spine once again. You really wanna score some brownie points? You better have my car fixed. He had been promising to rebuild the engine in her old Fiat for months now, and Amy couldn't help longing for the vehicle now.

Of course, she had her doubts as to whether or not Matt Hardy had actually ever opened the hood of a car. But he had seemed so intent on doing it for her, on proving that he could do something other than develop a killer business plan, and she hadn't had the heart to tell him no. Just like everything else in their relationship.

The pair had met at summer camp just before they entered ninth grade. They were both from the Carolinas, she from the south, he the north. From the moment she had seen him teaching his little brother how to jump onto the rope swing and drop into the lake below, she had been smitten. While he was a little slower to realize the connection, they had exchanged phone numbers and addresses at the end of the week, promising to keep in touch.

Her mother warned her that camp romances, especially between fifteen-year-olds who lived so far apart, couldn't really last, but it hadn't stopped her from writing him letters. One a week for two months, all unanswered. And then he called.

They talked for two hours that first night. And each call after that was a little bit longer. By the time Christmas rolled around, they were ending each conversation with an innocent "I love you." At camp the next year, they consummated their young relationship, and it hadn't stopped. All of the odds were stacked against them, but they knew it was special. Sure, he pissed her off to no end sometimes. She got under his skin, too. But they were in love.

Going to college together made good sense. He was going into sales and marketing. She was heading into journalism. New York University was tailor-made for their dreams. Of course, seeing each other on a daily basis took some adjusting. But she knew now, six years into their relationship, without a shadow of a doubt, she would marry Matt Hardy someday. If he ever got off his ass and asked her.

She rounded the corner to the restaurant and broke into a wide smile. "Matt!" she called, seeing her boyfriend step out of her car and stuff the keys into his pocket. When he smiled, she felt her heart skip a beat. Dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt, he had his long, dark hair pulled back from his face in a tight ponytail. God, she loved that smile.

Hurrying toward him, she almost dropped her bag in order to launch herself into his arms. "I thought I was late," he blushed slightly, taking another step toward her.

Before he could reach her, though, a figure stepped out of the shadows. "You should learn to keep your mouth shut, Hardy," a man's voice sounded.

But all Amy saw was the silver barrel of the pistol the man raised. Without thinking, she launched herself forward and grabbed the shooter's wrist, cranking it as hard as she could. He shook her off easily and took the shot before she even hit the ground at a few feet away.

The world slowed to a stop as she felt Matt's hand resting on her foot. Rolling onto her side, she cradled his head in her lap and fished her cell phone from her bag. "It's gonna be okay, Matty. You're gonna be okay," she mumbled over and over as she dialed 911, her eyes searching the street for some sign of the shooter.

Tears flowed over her cheeks as she tried to give her location to the dispatcher on the other end of the phone. Running trembling fingers over his chest, her hand bumped something in front shirt pocket. She reached in and withdrew a black, velvet box, pierced through by the bullet.

Her breath caught in her throat as she opened the box, her eyes resting on the small, sparkling diamond. The street light glinted over the gold as she turned it to examine the inscription, bringing a thundering sob from the petite red head in the back alley. "Amy and Matt. Til Death."

Slipping the ring on her finger, she clenched her fist and steadied her jaw. She would find out who had done this. And when she did, he would pay for ruining the best night of her life.