The Letters Left Unwritten

17. Letter Proposals

CHAPTER 17: The Art of Letter Proposing

Ace's POV:

"Wait, she letter dumped you? I'm telling you, letter dumping... So not cool."

"Yeah, letter proposing.... not so cool either."

"Uh please, it's an art. The art of letter proposing. So romantic," Vivian sighed.

Psst. This is not proposing. I'm not proposing to her. Wait, am I?

I'm just writing a letter to tell her how I feel, how I really feel. Telling someone about how you like them a lot isn't proposing.

I looked online, 'Proposing definition'

propose

/prəˈpəʊz/

verb

gerund or present participle: proposing

1.put forward (a plan or suggestion) for consideration by others.

2. make an offer of marriage to someone.

I'm doing neither. So that means, I'm not proposing.

With that in mind, I started writing my letter.

I took the pen and paper and sat down.

Dear Jane,

How are you feeling?

I cut the line and threw away the paper.

Too lame.

Sup Jane. How you doing? Wanna patch things back up, even though we never broke up?

What the heck am I writing?

So, what do you say we say sorry and everything goes back to how it was.

Ok, I'm pathetic.

I scribbled at the paper in frustration.

"You know what you should write? Here- Dude, stop being a baby and give up the attitude. You know you're going to come back. Why the drama?"

That's really rude. Also, it makes him sound like the wannabe bad boy. The one that kicks girls to the curb just to prove a point. I could smell the cigrattes and taste the drugs in that sentence.

I took out another paper but my mind decided to play a movie. A blank movie. There was literally nothing I could think of.

This is useless. I'm clearly bad at this and I'm going to blame it on the fact that I've never done this before. Also, the two idiots hovering over my head are making me extremely self conscious.

"Stop with the staring," I shouted at Vivian and Mason who were hovering over my head.

They banged their heads against each other.

"Ow!!" They shouted at the same time before turning to each other. I bit my lip as I watched them rub their heads.

"Fathead," Vivian shoved him after she noticed that he was standing a bit too close.

"Yo, don't you dare get the wrong idea. I'm not interested in the least bit," He said straight to her face.

"Of course not, you're interested in knowing little Ollie's favourite colour, her favourite food, her favourite song. But she wouldn't give you the time of her day," She smirked.

Ooh, burn.

"You really want to go down that road?" He turned to her once more, "At least I'm not the one who's going out with the guy who placed a petty bet on me."