It's 1996, he just walked you home from that amazing Smashing Pumpkins concert. You climbed from your mom’s garden shed to your room, instead of just entering through the door because you didn't want to wake your parents up and get into trouble. You wore your brother's Eraserheads t-shirt and your Levis 501's (you figured, he'd think you'd be a hip chick if you wore band merch). His breath smelled of Judge Spearmint chewing gum. He had the dreamiest eyes that looked at you like how Michelangelo’s David would look at you, and the haircut of pre-alcohol abuse-Nick Carter. You land on your bed and you ask yourself “Did John Hughes direct my life just for tonight?”
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