“Stupid hearts, stupid boys,” I grumbled to myself as I yanked open my locker. I took out the notebook I needed and again slammed the door closed. For the first time I noticed my locker was also decorated with hearts and ribbons and pink. I saw red; I thought everyone knew to stay away from my locker if they wanted to decorate it with a) hearts and b) drug or sex pictures.
So of course the only thing I could do was take out the scissors from my bag and cut off anything stuck on my locker. When I finished I smiled triumphantly, pleased with my job.
“Whoa Val, what’s up with the massacre?” asked my best friend Mitch. I gave her my b**** face and heaved out a frustrated sigh.
“You know what,” I sniffled, crossing my arms over my chest and turning my nose up, in a Valentina Petrovskaya patented way. God, my parents were assholes for naming me like that. Of course, since they were Russian I guess they had a right to.
“Oh come on, that loser ended things between you a week ago; forget him,” she informed me, making me flinch in pain.
“Schastlivy? Den? svyatogo Valentina moyu zadnitsu,” I grumbled in Russian (Happy Valentine’s Day my ass). Seriously, Valentine’s Day was my most hated day in the year. Why? Because every single Valentine, the week before, if I was in a relationship, we broke up. It was like a rule in my eighteen years of life.
“And what in this f*** are you wearing by the way, Val? Seriously; what the f***?” hissed Mitch. I frowned and looked down at my skinny jeans, black converse and purple shirt with gray designs. My green eyes were underlined with black eyeliner and mascara, my lips looking fuller with lip-gloss. My blonde hair fell in loose waves, the fringe masking my forehead.
“What’s wrong with my outfit? I thought it looked cute,” I whined, and Mitch raised a sarcastic eyebrow, gesturing to her outfit.
Pink shirt, darker pink skinny jeans, red heels and a red ribbon holding back her crazy brown hair.
“This is what you wear on Valentine’s Day,”
“That’s what you wear for a funeral,” I retorted. Mitch glared at me, and I held my hands up. “Hey, you know I hate Valentine’s Day, why do you keep trying to get me to like it?”
“Because, Val; it’s quite sad you want to spend it alone, with a tub of chocolate ice-cream watching ‘A Walk to Remember’, which last time we saw it, you ended up bawling your eyes out,” Mitch pointed out. I sniffled.
“I find Landon and Jamie’s love quite beautiful, thanks,” I raised an eyebrow, daring her to defy me. She, too, was a fan of the movie. But Mitch just rolled her eyes and adjusted the straps of her bag, and motioned for us to walk to first-period class. Grudgingly, I followed.
The first period classes were a drag, between math problems and love notes, I was ready to shoot myself and then eat myself, too. That’s how bad I hated it. We also had to give our Secret Valentine their gift, and I got my ex-boyfriend, Shawn.
Shawn Kerensky was what you’d call the boy next door. Also, the school’s bully. He had light blond hair and baby blue eyes with rounded cheeks. He was the cutest guy in school and he knew it. We’d been dating for about three months, when last week he came to my house, knocked on the door, informed me we were over and that he was too good for me, and jumped in his car with a bimbo (I was blonde too, so technically I wasn’t really insulting her hair color, too). Oh of course I cried, dude. I locked myself in my room and refused to go out until a hole consumed me (which never happened; my mom bribed me with Nutella so I went out… DELICIOUSNESS). I wasn’t even in love with him, but I really liked him. Now, I hated him.
So when the time came to give out our presents, I got Shawn what I thought was best: a ruler. Why? So he could measure his idiotness (I actually left a note that said that). I knew it was childish of me, but dude, it isn’t everyday you got your ex for Secret Valentine’s.
What was really weird was what my Secret Valentine got me: it was a heart-shaped charm with a Russian VLP engraved in it, which stood for Valentina Lyubov’ Petrovskaya. I stared at it really hard, trying to figure out how someone knew my first and second name, since I never said them. Everyone thought my name was Valerie, including my best friend Mitch. And a card was attached to the charm, which said something simple enough: Be my Valentine.
I could only wish it was a guy and not a lesbian.
Staring hard at the charm, trying to figure out who sent it to me, a throat cleared beside me.
“Um… Val, you do realize the bell rang, right?” asked Mitch, and I snapped back to reality.
“Yeah, sorry… just got distracted,” I mumbled, picked up my stuff and raced out the door. We headed together to the cafeteria, where more hearts adorned the place. I was two minutes from eating my own hand. Drastic? Maybe. Necessary?
Absolutely.
When we got to the queue, I saw the food was heart-shaped and cakes were pink too. So when we sat at our table, I made a final decision when I saw Mitch’s girlfriend, Lola, give her a wrapped gift, a stuffed bear, and a chocolate: I was going home. One thing was to see the whole school being lovey-dovey; other thing was to see your best friend smooching with her girl. Yikes.
So I left a note with Mitch that said I felt like s*** and had to go home. Then I ran to the parking lot and dumped my stuff in the passenger seat.
You’ll understand my fear when a knock sounded on my window out of the blue.
“CYKA!” I yelled (b****), and clutched my hand to my chest. I rolled down my window and saw a senior called… yeah, I forgot, smirking and holding a rose.
“Hello, Valentina,” he greeted, and for some reason I melted inside.
“Are you the one who got me this charm?” I asked, straight to the point, and got out said object. He smiled and nodded, leaning down.
“Do you like it?” he mumbled out, nervous; and I smiled, genuinely happy.
“I loved it,” I breathed, and his smile was blinding. “But… how did you know my name?” I inquired.
“I have my ways, Miss Petrovskaya,” he grinned. My heart stuttered.
“I’m so very sorry, but I don’t know your name…” I admitted sheepishly. Pain flashed through his eyes, but he quickly hid it with a smile.
“Anthony Alafriskiotos,” he introduced himself and stuck his hand out. I reached over the window and grasped it, and something strange happened. When I touched him… I felt safe. Wanted. Needed. Liked… loved.
“Well Tony, you sure know how to give a girl a nice gift,” I announced. He chuckled and tipped his head to show his thanks. “I have one question though; why aren´t you in the cafeteria?”
“Same reason you aren’t. And… I was sitting by the sidewalk and saw you come out; I figured it was now or never,” he admitted. I cocked an eyebrow.
“Now or never for what?” I inquired.
“Will you go on a date with me today, give me one chance?”
I looked at him; really looked at him for the first time. He had warm brown eyes and very messy black hair; buddy-holly glasses, thin lips, arched eyebrows, long lashes, creamy skin.
He was absolutely, unquestionably, the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. And he wanted me.
Damn, he must’ve really been blind. Or I, since I’d never seen him before.
Something troubled me, though. Yes he was gorgeous, he must’ve been European, maybe Greek, but I didn’t really know him. He could be an asshole like Shawn or a player. And I really, seriously didn’t want to get hurt by someone. Much less a gorgeous, thoughtful guy (dude, he actually wasted his time finding out my name –and he doesn’t look like a stalker).
But… could I trust him not to hurt me?
“I know what you’re thinking; you don’t know me. But… I do know you. Sometimes I watch you in lunch –I notice things about you. Like that when you’re frustrated you pull at your hair and roll your eyes. Or that when you eat salad, every time before taking a bite you make a face. You love your friend, but her PDA with her girlfriend makes you uncomfortable. You always wear your hair down; you hate Valentine’s Day. Your boyfriend broke up with you and you cried a lot –I know that since the next day you came in with swollen eyes and looking tired. Yet you still looked beautiful –you always do, Valentina. I know that you’re always alone during Valentine’s Day for some reason. I know your favorite food is chocolate-chips cookies, because you always bring one for lunch. Your favorite color is black –yet you don’t wear it all the time. For Halloween you never wear anything revealing, you like wearing weird costumes –like the lady/transvestite costume you wore last Halloween. And there’s so much more I’d like to know about you. I hope you don’t think I’m a stalker, I mean, I found out your name because a friend of mine mentioned it… the rest I’ve noticed. And Valentina, please don’t freak out… but I fell in love with you last year,” Anthony finished. By the time he was finished tears were falling down my cheeks. That, however strange it was, was the most beautiful thing someone had ever told me. No-one apart of Mitch knew so much about me. And now, looking into Anthony’s sweet eyes, I found courage and voiced my answer.
“No,” I stated simply, and his face fell considerably. I opened my door and stepped out quickly. “No, I won’t go on one date with you today. Because on Valentine’s Day the worst things happen to me, and I don’t want this date to go wrong. I want this date to be right and wonderful. And I know it will be. Today… today I want you to make me fall in love with you. Today I want you to erase all wrongs that have happened to me before on this date. Because I know you can do all that and more. But yes, Anthony Some-Weird-Last Name, I’ll give you a chance,” I finished with a smile.
His smile was blinding and beautiful and real.
So I did the only thing that came to mind; I balled up his shirt in my fists and brought his face down to mine and kissed the living daylights out of him.
“ Eftychís iméra tou Agíou Valentínou,” he murmured between kisses. “That’s Greek for Happy Valentine’s Day, by the way.” YES! I knew he was Greek…
“Dnem Svyatogo Valentina,” I whispered, and stared unknowingly deep into the eyes of my future husband and father of my children –and love of my life. “Now take me home, Tony. You better start working on making me fall for you,” I scolded, and with a giggle rounded the car as he hopped on the driver’s.
“Not that you have to try hard; I already did,” I whispered to myself.
And on the next Valentine’s Day we were not only still together and going strong, but we went to the same college.
He was the first guy I spent the holiday with, and the only one as well.