Holds my hand.

The Ferris wheel.

A slow, perfect, time-stood-still, fireworks-in-my-eyes kind of kiss.

A push-me-over-the-edge-of-the-love-cliff smile.

Kissing my hand. Like freaking Prince Charming.

The kind of kiss that makes me feel like he's kissing my soul.

Fixing my lips.

"A dance for every point?"

"Twenty-nine dances. That pretty much makes you my date."

A black Prada suit with black/silver cowboy boots.

Twinkle lights on the ceiling.

A twenty-nine song playlist.

"'Now a soft kiss-Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.'"

"You're different, Boots."

"I don't think you could belong to anyone else."

Tractor beam eyes.

"Tutor me."

Kisses his glove and blows me a kiss after he scores.

"I'll be there, whenever you need me."

"Tutoring with food."

Ordering my favorite pizza.

"I doubt you're ever gross."

"I'm so glad I suck at French."

"Rawwwrrr."

"What about fuck?"

"We'll be dating by then, but trust me, it's gonna happen. And when you say it to me in French, I wanna make sure I know what you're saying. You know, when you start begging me."

"B-Moi."

"We will definitely go to France together. Maybe I'll ask you to marry me there. Top of the Eiffel Tower, sunset?"

"It's sorta like fate."

"Well, it may be cool, but it sucks. I wanna hear your weekend with Dawson sucked. I want to be tutored in my room, so we can have some privacy. I also want you to stop flipping your ponytail around. Your hair smells like cotton candy and it reminds me of the stupid Ferris wheel."

"You're just trying to tell me you love me, it's okay. I already know."

This text: I miss you