Love, Creekwood (Simonverse #3.5)(2)



Anyway, this is me sending you love letters like Simon and Bram, because they’re gross, and we should be more gross. So wake up and respond to this email, okay? Doesn’t have to be in writing.

Respectfully,





LCB





FROM: [email protected]

TO: [email protected]

DATE: SEP 10 AT 10:10 PM

SUBJECT: RE: I DON’T LIKE THIS

Jacques,

You know what’s been an unexpectedly hard adjustment? The fact that we don’t know all the same people anymore. I know that’s such a weird thing to miss. But it was really its own kind of language, having all those people in common: Garrett and Abby and Leah and Nick and everyone, even Martin. And now I’m surrounded by people you’ve never met, and you’re surrounded by people I’ve never met, and I don’t know, Simon. I really miss inhabiting your universe.

Okay, I just stopped and counted up the number of days since we’ve seen each other, and it’s been less than two weeks. Thirteen days. I bet you haven’t even done laundry yet, have you? God, I miss you. I miss you every single second.

I want to know every detail about your life, okay? I want to know about Kellan and his Stephen King fetish, and whether you’re wearing shower shoes to the bathroom, and who the most annoying person is in every single one of your classes. I want the stuff you think is too boring to share.

Here’s my update: I had peanut butter toast for breakfast. Best class of the day was poli-sci, because we had this amazing lecture about spotting misinformation in news articles (I’ll save the real geeking out for FaceTime so you can properly make fun of me). Also, I think you may be right about that girl Ella with the tongue piercing. She caught a glimpse of my lock screen today and was weirdly flustered about it? But it actually ended up being a fun conversation. She was really curious about you (“What’s his name? How soon is he transferring here? Why’s he wearing a tux in an American Girl store?” ALL VERY GOOD QUESTIONS).

What else? Hmm. The libertarian edgelord from econ blessed us today with some brilliant advocacy on behalf of the devil! I know I loved being stuck in class an extra fifteen minutes to really soak in that game-changing wisdom. Then I showered and did some problem sets and fell madly in love with your latest Instagram selfie (excuse me, how is your face even legal?). And I had peanut butter toast again for dinner, because there’s nothing more delicious than not walking into a giant dining hall full of strangers.

So that was my day. I didn’t stop missing you for a minute. How was yours?

Love,

Blue





FROM: [email protected]

TO: [email protected]

DATE: SEP 11 AT 12:07 AM

SUBJECT: RE: I DON’T LIKE THIS

“I really miss inhabiting your universe.” Hello, is that a euphemism?? And in related news, can we discuss your intentions re: the phrase “unexpectedly hard”????

I miss you. Yup. Every minute. Every second. Honestly, missing you feels like the whole point of my day. Which kind of scares me, you know? Is it supposed to feel like this? Why did I think it would be easier? But Bram, hear me out. I think I left half my heart in your dorm room.

Ah yes, the libertarian edgelord. What a treat. Have I told you about the one in my psych class? Front row, gelled-up bangs, passionately defending the Stanford Prison Experiment by day three of class. Not gonna lie, I’m starting to suspect they plant one of these dudes in every 101 class as part of some big social psychology experiment. Or maybe . . . maybe COLLEGE ITSELF is one big social psych experiment, and we’re the test subjects. cue dramatic music close-up on my gaping-mouthed face Okay. My day. Let’s see. Kellan was up at five thirty, noisily screwing in a Pennywise light switch cover. B, I’m not even convinced this is about Stephen King. I think he just really likes Pennywise. Maybe clowns in general. Anyway! I guess my day was basically like yours. Class, shower, etc. No comment re: the shower shoes. I don’t really have any girls in love with me though (I TOLD YOU, BRAM. I TOLD YOU). I think people are clocking me as gay, maybe? Could it be the rainbow shoelaces? Or the fact that I’m incapable of going five minutes without mentioning my boyfriend?? Anyway, I like it. It’s refreshing!

To respond to Ella’s most excellent questions: 1. My name: His Royal Highness Simon Irvin Lovesick Sad Bramless Spier the first, of Oreo House.

2. DON’T TEMPT ME.

3. Garrett Laughlin.

Now go eat some real food, okay? I love you way too much to let you miss out on dining hall grilled cheese.

Sincerely,

HRH Simon ILSB Spier





FROM: [email protected]

TO: [email protected]

DATE: SEP 20 AT 12:17 AM

SUBJECT: HAPPY

Guess what—it’s your birthday!!! I know it’s weird to be emailing you when you’re currently sleeping two feet away from my desk, but listen up, freckle face. I have to tell you something, and I don’t trust myself to say this properly when you’re making bedroom eyes at me (don’t deny it. You think I don’t know what your bedroom eyes look like? I live in your bedroom).

So here’s the deal: I know four-letter L words scare you (which, not gonna lie, is a BOLD stance coming from a girl whose name is literally a four-letter L word). But the truth is, I don’t need you to declare a single thing, because it’s written all over your face. Those are the facts. You come with subtitles, and you don’t even realize it.

Becky Albertalli's Books