CHAPTER SIX!

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I absolutely adored the drive to Papa Olaf's house. The scenery was beautiful, even though I knew it was only a couple of miles away from where I lived. Greg had taken to playing my Pat Benetar CD very, very loudly. And to think...he didn't consider her 'rock enough', for him. Awful.

"And what? Marilyn Manson is? No way, Sanders. And I refuse to argue about this again." I turned 'Heartbreaker' up. Brilliant song.

"It's okay, Allie..." He grinned. "We all know you only listen to bad 80s cheese."

"Oh!" I scoffed. "Be quiet. Look, there's Papa Olaf's house." I pointed to the distance. We pulled up and I had a quick check of my head in the mirror. Greg tutted. "What? Does my vanity offend you in any way?" I teased, playing with his collar. Honestly, that boy was a shambles with his clothes.

"No...it's worth it."

I blushed. And I saw myself turning red, which was worse. I opened the door of the car to get out, but I was stopped by Greg's hand on my back. He gave me that look. The look that generally made me melt inside and give in to kissing. It worked really well in arguments. It was like a puppy-dog look crossed with one of those little sympathetic looks. I leant over and kissed him, holding his head in my hands. We were getting a lot better at the whole kissing thing. Then I pulled back. Greg smiled lopsidedly. We left the car and walked up to the door. Olaf had recently moved back in with Greg's Aunt Greta. A seriously crazy lady. I knocked on the door and not half a minute later, Greta answered.

"Oh, my goodness! Allie Moore!" She pulled me towards her for a hug. I gasped. I was surprised. Greta was about forty-five, with dyed-red hair and an odd, orange sweater. Usually she wore jeans. She was quite skinny and she had a great face. Good bone structure...obviously that was hereditary.

"Hi, Greta!" I choked out. Finally, she let go of me and moved onto Greg.

"And my favourite little boy! Oh! How are you?"

"I'm...fine, Aunt Greta! Um...is Papa Olaf in?"

"Oh, sure he is! Bingo is tomorrow night." She nodded, glancing around behind us. "Just you two?"

Me and Greg looked at each other and then back at Greta. "Just us." Wow! We said that in unison. Amazing.

Greta smiled. "Well, come on in, kids." She moved and allowed us to enter the room. The house was fantastically pretty. Big and old, it had a certain charm that nowhere else I had ever been in had. The ceilings were startlingly high and the floors were all oak and the furniture was so classy, it would have put Martha Stewart to shame. Now the thing I truly adored, was the baby grand piano in Papa Olaf's room. He used to play, according to Greg. And he was a master of he keys, apparently. Then his wife died and...well, he just gave up. Since then, the piano has been gathering dust in the bedroom. Greta thinks it's haunted, because one night she heard it being played. Not scary, right? Because Papa Olaf would have been there? No! He was at bingo.

"Uh, we brought you chocolates, Aunt Greta." Greg moved into the hall uncomfortably. I knew Greta absolutely terrified Greg. She was a disciplinarian. More so that his own mother. He told me about one time that his mother was out and he accidentally burnt his dinner, Aunt Greta yelled at him for twenty minutes straight. Then she burst into tears. So did Greg, except he went and hid in his closet for the rest of the night. I always felt really sad whenever he told me that. He says he had a great childhood, save for Greta.

"Thank you, Gregory, dear. Go on in..." She motioned to the sitting room. "I'm watching the TV upstairs."

I nodded and Greg thanked her. We went in to see Papa Olaf in the corner watching Scarface. I hadn't seen it before, but I knew that's what it was. Greg cleared his throat. Now, I must take a minute to describe Papa Olaf to you all; He's old, for a start. Really, really old. But there isn't a single day of it on his face. Not one, honestly! He's got distinct features - like Greg - and gorgeous little eyes - like Greg -, not forgetting the same little lopsided grin as Greg. The similarities don't end there. Greg and Olaf have very much the same sense of humour. Olaf has grey hair, and Greg's a dirty-blonde/dark, depending on the bottle. Big ears and a broad nose are another of the similarities. I loved Papa Olaf. He seriously rocks. And so does Greg. Now, where was I? Oh, right...uh, so Greg cleared his throat and smiled. I actually had an image of Papa Olaf with an undercut. Olaf looked up. His hearing was perfect. In fact, he was healthier than me. I bit my lip. I always had a nervous feeling in Olaf's house, because I felt I had a lot to live up to. Some of the things Greg had told him...wow. I must have been pretty amazing. Well, to Greg, anyway.

"Hello, Greg...good evening, Beautiful." Olaf stood up - I'm telling you, the man built the fountain of youth! - quickly and walked over to me and Greg. I grinned.

"Hey, Papa Olaf." Greg hugged him and smiled. He was very fond of Olaf.

"Hi!" I hugged him next. I saw the picture of Greg's grandma on the table next to Olaf's chair. It really scared me how alike we both looked. Cool, but freaky. "How are you, Olaf?"

"Ah, same old, same old. Not getting any younger." He smiled, cheekily and motioned for us to sit down.

"Oh, we brought you some stuff." Greg handed him the bag of, well, stuff we had collected for him. Olaf loved reading. Greg, kind of didn't...but apparently Olaf used to constantly read to him when he was a kid.

"Thank you...oh, Allie?"

"Yeah?" I was about to sit down, but thankfully I didn't.

"How would you like to put the kettle on?"

"Yeah, sure."

"That's okay, I can-" Greg started but Olaf shushed him and told me to go on ahead. I knew they were up to something, but I didn't know what, so I left the normal way, pretended to go into the kitchen and put the kettle on, and then I leant against the wall next to the door. I heard a lot of mumbles and whatnot, so I leant in closer.

"...did you ask her, yet?" Olaf. Fair enough. Could be anything.

"No! I can't get the right time...I was gonna do it later, but Nick, the guy at work, got kicked out of his house." What? Greg has something to ask 'her'? Who's 'her'? Could it be me?

"Well, you'll have to do it sometime, Greg." Olaf again.

Greg sighed. "Yeah...it's hard, you know. I don't even know what I'll say to her. I mean, I constantly think about her, I love her...and she's really pretty. So far, that's it."

"Hmm." I could almost see Olaf pondering away. "Well, take some time, think about it and then ask her. Whenever you feel like it, boy, do it."

Greg laughed. "Okay. But hey, what if the ring doesn't fit her? Then what?! I mean, it's not just like we can take it back..." The ring?! What ring? Oh, my God! Is he talking about what I think he's talking about? I smiled to myself. No way...could it be? No. Although, three years is a long time.

"Just...don't worry, Gregory. Whenever the notion takes you, just tell her."

"Even if we're at work?"

"Like I said, son..." Olaf laughed. "Whenever you feel that you're ready."

I gasped. I was still hanging out outside the door, but I didn't hear the rest of the conversation. All I knew was...

Gregory Sanders was going to propose.

To me.

More than likely, at work.

Suddenly, I felt like jumping up and down in the air.

A/N: Ha! Cliffhanger! LOL. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter...took me a while to decide how this fic was gonna go...a bit cliche, but still. I thought it would be fun! Also, I wanted pure fluff for this story. What's more fluffy than an engagement? LOL.

Now I have an idea, I'll be able to write faster. So...any suggestions? If you do, send me them.

Please R&R...same to the people that have ben getting alerts on this particular fic...maybe you guys would like to come out and write me a wee review? Only if you feel like it, mind.

Have a great rest of the day,

JauntyChick

XOX