Valentine’s Letter

Dear Crush,

From my very first day in prep fall, when I came crashing into grill, loud, dabbing, wearing clunky glasses and calling it “The Grill,” I knew we were meant for each other. 

I wanted to take you to dinner, cause apparently people want their love interests to see them stuffing their faces on dates. Like that isn’t one of the most unattractive events we experience daily (in public). Anyway, with you, I wasn’t self conscious; I wanted to know you and to eat a meal with you.

You were the kind of person everyone was attracted to, and everyone treated you like you were 50 cents. But I saw past all of that. I saw your true value. I could tell you were soft on the inside just from looking at the way your chest dips in the center. You were the Chuck to my Blaire. You were edward, and I was bella. You were the beast, and I was beautiful. Wait, no one wanted the beast. Anyway, I understood you.

And you understood me too. You knew that always being in Grill for me made me feel supported. You got that I couldn’t have dinner with you every day, that sometimes I needed to eat Ramen-dipped Hot Cheetos and watch the Great British Baking Show. 

Oh, Grill Cookies! I love you so so dearly. I wish I could spend the whole rest of my life with you, but alas! Our time together is limited. Let us make the most of it. Meet me tonight in Grill, where we first met. Even though I’ll only pay 50 cents for each of  you, I’ll treat you right. 

Love,

Fiona 

P.S. I love you.