Disclaimer: No waterproof mascara was harmed during the making of this story.

Valentine's day. Freaking Valentine's Day.

If you believe everything you read, 40% of people admit to feeling alone, sad or depressed on Valentine's Day. A single day. One. Out of 364 days out of the year; but it's the one day that stresses the hell out of people. Especially single people. It makes you second-guess if you're doing something wrong with your life because once again, you have no date, no prospects and nothing but a tub of Ben and Jerry's and some serious waterproof mascara.

To be honest, if I could choose, I'd rather be fighting back a herd of ravenous zombies at the beginning of an apocalypse rather than celebrating Valentine's Day. It's such a merchandise-driven day. A Hallmark holiday, if you will.

I should know, I'm majoring in marketing.

Truth is, romance and I don't go together.

We're like water and oil.

We don't coexist well.

Or rather, we don't coexist at all. 

The worst part is that every year the torture seems to last longer. The moment the New Year's fireworks fizzle out, you can hear the dreams of single folk being extinguished with dull displays of candy and disgusting hearts around every corner. I remember the old days, when the marketing strategies started around the first days of the month. Not anymore. Now, it's prolonged exposure to the misery.

Of course, by the time February arrives, I'm moody as hell. Everybody knows that. Even my grams. She's so sure that I won't have plans, that she invited me over for dinner, probably commiserating on my poor date-less life.

Don't get me wrong, I do love her. She's amazing but she's oddly obsessed with my love-life. She always asks about it, despite the fact that there's no love in my life. 

The problem with Valentine's Day is how you're forced to buy stuff to prove your love. Flowers, candies, cards or chocolates, everything is twice their normal price. My dignity refuses to allow me to participate in this merchandise scam.

I love my friends. Single or dating, they're all amazing. I mean, that's why they're my friends; yet, on Valentine's Day, I evade the ones with dates. I don't miss the pity glances they might send my way, or worse, the remorseful chocolate or flowers they bring me that bloom with nothing but sugar and pity. I've been there before and it's not pretty.

So, now I avoid them like they are the zombie herd I'd rather be scrapping with. I let them be with whoever they want to be and I know I'll see them again in the next few days.

Still, I love hanging out with my single friends. Except the ones that just had a messy break up. I usually run away from them because they're the worst. I rather be a third wheel than spend a night trying to cheer up someone who's crying and commiserating, especially on this particular date.

They're filled with couples. And hearts, candles and roses. Everything that you want to avoid. I'd avoid leaving the house if I could. 

The fact that I'm single doesn't mean that I have to feel bad. I'm free to do whatever the hell I want. I want flowers? I buy myself some! (Just not on Valentine's Day), I want to wear pants and no makeup and watch Princess Bride, screaming all the lines while dancing in front of the TV? I can, and I love doing it. I also know that if I had a boyfriend, I'd probably feel self-conscious, I'd blush like crazy and I wouldn't enjoy myself so much.

Being single is all about you, and I believe that before falling in love with someone, you have to love yourself. Take notes there. That's important life advice, straight from Grams herself.

When the dreaded day arrives, I'm happy about seeing Grams. I visit her every week.When I was little, I used to spend the whole summer with her. If you omit the fact that she's always concerned about my love life, she's pretty great.

Normally, I get her flowers when I visit, but since it's Valentine's, and the flower prices are over the roof, I get her a lavender lotion set. It's more practical than flowers, anyway.

I ring her bell and the moment she opens the door, I know something is off. Way freaking off. Frank Sinatra is playing on the background and the house smells like a bakery. That can only mean one thing: She has guests, and it's not me.

"Hello, lovely." Her gaze slips to the bag in my hands. "I thought you were bringing flowers?"

I try to look behind her and all I can see different is a stranger's denim jacket on the hanger. Who the hell is in there?

"It's a lavender set," I shrug. "Sort of flowerish."

She presses her lips together. "It's fine, honey. I'll just cut some roses from my garden, then." She steps aside to let me pass but I'm cautious.

"We don't really need flowers, Grams," I add hesitantly.

She grins at me. "We do, we have a special guest tonight."

Here we go... "Yes?"

She nods and I take a deep breath, thinking that I should add a little change to my rules... 

Here we go... "Yes?"

She nods and I take a deep breath, thinking that I should add a little change to my rules...   

I'm hanging my jacket when she drops the bomb. "Do you remember Samuel Hawks?"

My whole body freezes for a second. Of course, I remember him. I crushed over him all through junior high and high school. His parents lived across the street from my grandmother, and he was two years older than me, and despite going to the same school, he never talked to me more than three times.

More importantly, I can't believe my grandmother is setting me up on Valentine's Day. With Samuel freaking Hawk.

Sighing, I pass a strand of hair behind my ear before making my way inside the living room. Sam is sitting on one of the sofas, running a hand through his hair, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.

Four years have passed, but damn, he looks good. His caramel hair still has those soft waves that I always wanted to touch, his hazel eyes have that warmness that I remember, and his whole stance is more confident. Plus, I'm pretty sure he exercises more because he looks much more athletic than I remembered him.

"Hi," my voice comes out high-pitched and I just want the earth to swallow me.

This is exactly the reason why I don't do dates. It's too awkward.

Smiling, he stands up. "Hi."

"Come on, Hope, sit beside Sam. I'm pretty sure you have much to talk about." I feel as if hot rocks drop inside my stomach. She's not leaving us, is she? "I'm just going outside for a moment to get some flowers for the table."

Damn it! I should have brought those stupid flowers!

Granny don't leave! Please, don't leave!

My grandmother smiles before walking away.

I force a smile. Or at least, I try to. I'm sure that a sort of grimace comes out instead. I'm stiff and I don't know what to do with myself, so I sit down on the nearest sofa, which happens to be the same one Sam chooses to sit in.

For fuck's sake. I glance longingly at the other single couch across the room.

"How are you doing, Hope? Ginny was just telling me that you're majoring in marketing." I try not to like the rough tone of his voice or the way his plump lips move as he talks.

"Yeah."

He grins. He knows I'm completely awkward. Hell, the whole world can see how uncomfortable I feel. Tilting his head to the side, he gazes at me. "I still remember your article in our school paper," he shakes his head, grinning. "The one that condemned Valentine's Day."

My cheeks feel warm and despite feeling embarrassed, I actually smile this time.

When I was in freshman year I wrote an article about Valentine's Day for the school's newspaper. Our school had this stupid tradition to send roses to your friends on Valentine's, and it was the first time I ranted about it as if my life depended on it.

"It was a great article," I say proud of myself.

He chuckles. "It was memorable, all right."

I snort. "Someone even took the time to send me roses," I shake my head. "I was so mad about it..."

He laughs, but the cackles sound different this time. Sort of fake. "Why were you mad?"

Leaning back on the couch, I smile. "They didn't have a note or anything, and I thought it was a joke. I even stomped on them before throwing them to the trash the same moment I got them."

"I remember."

Creasing my brows, I stare at him. "Why would you?" I always thought he was a senior that didn't give a crap about a freshman like me.

He rubs the back of his neck. "I sent them, actually."

My mouth falls open and my belly starts to flutter. "What?" At first, I think that he's joking, because, let's be real, why would Samuel Hawks send flowers to a girl like me? But his gaze is serious and deep and my whole body starts to tingle. I touch my throat. "For real?"

Slowly, his lips tug up in a lopsided smile. "Yes. Why did you think it was a joke? They were fourteen roses, to be exact."

I don't know what to say. "Exactly. Who would be so corny to send me fourteen roses?"

He laughs at that. "Me," he places a palm on his chest and my whole face feels on fire. "I sent you fourteen. One for each week that I'd been hoping for the courage to ask you out."

"What?"

He nods.

"I'm sorry," I say softly.

Sam shakes his head. "It's fine. I do have to ask, why did you hate Valentine's so much?"

I don't tell him that my hatred for Valentine's Day isn't in the past tense. It's here. Now. Or...maybe not...

I swallow hard.

Because I was lonely. Because I feared not getting a rose from anyone. Because it felt like we were measuring popularity with those stupid roses and I knew that I wasn't popular.

And it sucked. It sucked big time.

I didn't have a boyfriend like so many of my friends and it felt like it was the one day I was reminded of that. I also knew I was not the only one to feel like that, so I felt like I needed to say something.

I open my mouth and then I close it. I've never had a problem saying this to anyone, but this is Samuel Hawks, the guy I've crushed forever, who just confessed to sending me flowers.

My heart is racing like crazy and I have to look away. "I didn't want to feel like a loser," my tone is soft, but he hears me.

"You're not a loser Hope." I look up and his lips are curved up, and he's staring at me with an unreadable emotion in his eyes. "You never were. In fact, you were intimidating. Especially for a guy who'd been crushing on you since the first time he saw you up on that tree." He gestures to the oak tree outside of the window. The same oak tree where I spent most of my summer days reading.

My stomach flips as he stands up and walks to his jacket on the hanger. "I thought you were over Valentine's hate, so I brought you something." He removes a white envelope from one of the pockets, before turning to me. "I didn't dare to bring flowers because I know you have issues against them."

Flustered, I pass a palm across my face, but I can't help but smile at this.

"And just for the record, this is not Valentine's card, because that would be totally awkward, and I don't do Valentine's. At all." He's suppressing a smile and I'm trying really hard not to swoon at him. He steps to the little table my Grams keeps by the entrance. It holds a large package of post its and a bunch of pens, and whenever she wants to remember something important, she writes it down and glues it on wherever she thinks she might see it.

He grabs a black pen before turning away from me. I can't see what he's doing but my stomach is in knots already. With that lopsided smile on his face, he steps around the room and gives me the envelope.

My whole body feels warm as I open it.

I can't help but smile goofily. This is the cutest thing anyone has ever done for me. "Did you just strike out the heart?"

His grin widens. "What heart? There's no heart in there because it's not a Valentine's Card."

Shaking my head, I say, "Did my grandmother set you up for this?"

Sam laughs, and this time it does reach his eyes. "She might have mentioned that you were coming over for dinner and I may have been a bit desperate to invite myself because I wanted to see again the girl that crushed my heart four years ago."

I'm about to protest and tell him that I had no idea he liked me, but I gaze at the dining room with a frown. "Where is she?"

We both make our way to the dining room and I notice the table is set for two, and there's a yellow post it in the middle.

And suddenly, I find myself thinking that Valentine's is not such a bad idea, after all.

Thank you for reading this!