Happy Valentine's Day?

The following short story was based on the following "like" from Facebook:

14th February:
Girl: Happy Valentines Day!
Boy: Um... yeah :)
-Girl passes him a big box of chocolates-
-Boy passes her a tiny box, to which she looks disappointed-
Boy: Now, before you open this, I want you to know something... I don't want to be your boyfriend anymore...
Girl: (Shocked) -Opens box- *Gasp*
Boy: Because I want to be your husband.


~*~

"I hate Valentine's Day," I said, exhaling against the too-long-but-not-quite-long-enough hair that was ever present in my face despite the ponytail I was prone to wearing.

He smiled. "You're only in it for the chocolate I suppose?"

My face brightened. "Of course; as though there are any other reasons." We both knew I was being difficult on purpose; he'd grown used to it and usually played along until he caught me and exposed my tough-girl front.

"Because you and I both know you are desperately in love with me, as I with you, you got me something which was probably homemade, I got you something, and we will have some form of a sentimental moment where we shall admit these things to one another without pretense."

Yeah, exactly like that. I faked an irritated sigh, opened my bag, and handed him a bag of cake balls. "Here," I bit, though I know he saw the smile I was trying to hold back. After retrieving his gift, he pushed a box across the table to me without a word. My face fell flat. "Really? After all that chocolate talk, you bought me, what, four pieces? As long as they aren't weird flavors." I opened it.

I examined the contents carefully; I couldn't figure out what I was looking at. "Pretty sure this isn't chocolate," I muttered.

"Alexandrite."

The word snapped me out of my confusion, and my gaze shot up to his. "Wha-"

"Amethyst."

"Wait a sec-"

"Pearl. I almost wish they'd figure out which is your actual birthstone, but I admit I like the colors together. Good choice, bel."

My face was twisted into something mixed between confusion, dreamlike, and terror. Confused because I wasn't sure what was happening, barely dreamy because of what I thought it meant, and terror because I didn't want to be utterly wrong and humiliated. He smiled, somewhat knowingly but mostly gently.

"Marry me."

Not a question, not a demand - a statement of the obvious, now being when the time was right, when our proverbial ducks were in a supposedly straight row. Even though I was panicking, sweating, and shaking, I knew he knew my answer.