is tall. really tall, so i have to look up to meet eyes. and he'll have beautiful eyes. he'll have skinny jeans, worn out chucks, and curly, messy, out of control hair. and a closet full of band tshirts from all of the concerts that he's been to. every shirt will have a story behind it - he got punched at this show, eye contact with the bassist at another. anything and everything to make the night memorable - and they dont have to be bands that i listen to, but bands that he listens to, and loves like i love mine. maybe he'll love music enough to make his own. and have a beat up acoustic in his room. or an old drum set with broken cymbals. and his laugh will sucker me in every time. he'll be a dork that laughs at his own jokes. and trips over his own two feet. and sometimes, he wont know what to say, and he'll just smile a crooked smile, and that'll be enough. and he'll cook awesome grilled cheese sandwiches. and on our first date, he'd take me to a concert. hell, we could even meet at a local show. or at an open mic night at a coffee shop. cause he'd drink coffee, and know exactly how i like mine. 4 creams, 5 sugars. or we'd meet at an HMV, or any record store for that matter. we'd reach for the same album. deathcab for cutie, or something. and then fight over who saw it first. he'll have an amazing collection. shelves and shelves and shelves of albums. and he'll make mixtapes. great ones. and on my birthday, he'll surprise me with a crave cupcake, the chocolate one with blue frosting, with a single candle on it. and after i blow out the candle, he'll pull out a CD from the pocket of is american apparel hoodie. it'll have a big red bow on it. its one of his famous mix tapes filled with my favourites - mayday parade, all time low, taking back sunday .. all lovingly packed onto one CD.
hey, a girl can dream.
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