Disclaimer: I still don't own the lovely boys or the grand song.
I'm in love with a critic and skeptic, a traitor, I'd trade him in a second
Hot blonde, always blonde, short, petite, nice ass.
She is the type of girl that will leave in the morning and not bother with phone numbers.
I grin and lean down to whisper in her ear.
"Tyler."
I turn to face the 's not smirking or grinning; he's angry, eyes nearly black and that is never a good thing.
The blond looks confused as I pull away from her and walk over to him.
He grabs a handful of my hair and pulls my down to him, kissing me roughly and I know I couldn't leave him if I tried.