Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, and just like the past two years, I’ll be spending it alone in my apartment—probably binging a show, stuffing my face, calling it a cheat day, and scrolling through social media to see couples flaunting their so-called soulmates.

It never really bothered me that I didn’t have someone to share the day with. But this year, it does. Why? Because I’ve spent the past few weeks turning down women at work and school with the excuse that I already have a Valentine. A lie, obviously. And what irks me most is that some of them saw right through it, scoffing like they knew I was full of it. Now, I want to prove them wrong.

I already have a plan. The problem? I don’t have the most important part—an actual Valentine.

With a sigh, I sink into my sectional couch, scrolling through my phone, trying to figure it out. My whole plan to post a few stories showing off my "Valentine" is at a standstill without an actual person to play the part. Who could I ask?

Just then, a message pops up from you—a picture of your freshly done nails. Two days ago, you sent me a picture of your hair all done up, and you looked mad fine. I wasn’t shy about telling you either. And that’s when a light bulb flickers to life over my head.

Valentine's Day

"How many pictures are we gonna take?" you ask, standing in front of my full-length mirror with me just behind you. It took some convincing, but you eventually agreed—under two conditions: 1) you wouldn't show your face, and 2) I’d actually spoil you for the day.

I don’t answer right away, too focused on watching you through the mirror’s reflection. You look good. Too good. And for a split second, a thought crosses my mind—

If you weren’t my friend, I’d hold you up in front of this mirror and make you watch as I—