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Quinn, Q, Dr. Q, Idiot, and all of the other wonderful names we call you:
I want to take my time with this letter, because I guess that’s how it happened with me liking you. Slowly, I took my time getting here, but I’m here, and I like you. It only makes sense that the unsent letter takes a while to write, too.
We’re friends, and you’re amazing, so me liking you was bound to happen: all of our other friends saw it coming, too. It’s a little cliché, how this is all working out. But we’ve been friends for a long time, so I know you. I know the you that you show everyone else, but I also know the you that you don’t always show everyone else. My problem is: I love both people.
I like you, Q. I like you so much for so many reasons. I like your eyes: silver and green and blue and hazel all together in a warm mix of happiness. I love your smile: a little crooked and shy, your smile shows that you don’t know just how good looking you are. Just you: everything.
You put on a face that you’re Mr. tough guy but you’re not. You know how to get me to calm down and you know how to talk to me to make me melt out of the self doubt that often times overtakes me. You’re funny and kind and warm. You, Quinn, are my silver crush. Everything about you is silver.
You would never guess that I like you, since I’ve gotten good at hiding it. I talk to you like I always have, except I linger on your eyes a little longer, though I doubt you realize it. If Ava’s talking to you we’ll make eye contact for a moment when neither of us are talking. I look at you even when you aren’t looking at me.
I want to tell you but I’ll never be able to. I’m too scared to say anything about it. I’d rather keep it all in and explode than face rejection. I’ve been rejected before, and it sucks. Though, I guess, you’ve been rejected so many more times than I have. You ask girls out all the time, and all I ask is that I’m one of them. All I ask is that I am the one to say yes. All I ask for is you.
I call you my silver crush because you are silver. A warm one though. A silver that melts me when you look at me. Your eyes are silver, your lips are silver, your smile is silver, your fingertips are silver, your laugh is silver, you are silver.
But I guess the thing about true, real silver is that it’s hard to get, and you have to mine for it. Maybe I just don’t have the right equipment to get you from your cave. Silver is precious and difficult to get. Silver is worth something, Quinn. You’re worth a lot, and you don’t even know it.
Love (maybe),
Katie
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