I love dreams sometimes. Sometimes they make absolutly no sense, sometimes they help you work through things, sometimes they inspire best-selling novels...I'm kinda hoping this one is part of the last.
Everything about him was intriguing
A bronze-golden mane of hair, eyes of the warmest amber. An easy and carefree laugh, quiet personality, love shining out of his eyes. He called me his girl, his beautiful writer girl, and I felt like my world was complete and I could die a happy person.
He was a lion incarnate, strong and regal energy radiating out of his every restless movement. We were at a venue kind of place, a small one where everything feels more personal and intimate, and his band, The Escape, were playing. He played the drums, though he had the charisma, voice and the looks to be a front man if he wanted. His skin was golden, sun kissed honey, a very light sprinkling of freckles across his nose, too light to see unless you were extremely close and looking. Which I was.
He wore jeans – not the skintight skinny ones, but not the farmer boy carpenters either – with a grey tshirt with an octopus on it that hinted at some nice abs. Old, yet not ratty, Converse hugged his feet, “I <3 Reading” shoelaces dragging a bit on the floor. On his right wrist was a friendship I had made him an eternity ago when we were strictly just that – friends. Now we were something more. Something scary and thrilling and amazing.
His grin was pure light, pure electricity. That head of bronze-golden hair curled slightly were it ended around his ears, and his bangs helped add a bit of playful mystery when he leaned down to kiss me. At about five foot ten, he was a good eight inches taller than me – just enough height to make things comfortable, but he still had to lean down slightly to get close to me.
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