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Third Person POV.
Y/n could not believe she was actually getting ready for a date.
After her ex boyfriend, who had a toxic relationship with, she thought she didn't want to date anymore and yet getting ready to go on a date with a boy she met two evenings before.
The date was pretty great. She has loved everything Dylan did.
The day before they talked about how they disliked cliches and so, as first date, he took her to a Mets match. A very unusual date but she could not like it better.
She didn't care about the match at all, she liked to admire the amazing human being that was standing next to her.
His white and blue jersey fitted him perfectly. The muscles on his forearms and the veins on his hands were showing.
His hands shaking when he was waiting for the match to score.
The moles on his face barely covered by the growing beard and his hazel eyes illuminated by the sunset.
Y/n liked when he would whine in frustration taking off his cap to put an hand through his hair a little grown but still awesome. "Isn't staring a cliche?" Dylan smirked at her pointing his tongue out at her.
She covered her face into her hands because she has been caught and when she showed him her face she was blushing. "Dylan come on." I whined. "You are so cute when you blush, you know." He smiled sincerely at her.
He turned his head to watch the game again and he found laying his hand on her thigh gently squeezing it sometimes when he was happy about the Mets score.
Little did he know that his touch made her stomach turn. "So did you like the match?" He smiled at her walking alongside the shore of Santa Monica. She found herself nodding and biting her lip. "I absolutely loved it." She wasn't telling lies anyways.
She really liked the way he reacted to the match. "But I love the sea more." She glanced at him then at the sea who was extremely calm.
Y/n was amazed by the sea that she didn't realize Dylan reached out for her hand to intertwine with hers. Both of them looked down at their intertwined hands and giggled. "This is so clichè, isn't it?" Dylan asked touching his neck with his free hand.
"Absolutely a clichè." She shook his head looking up at him. "But I like it." "Miss 'I don't like clichès' is actually liking a clichè?" He mocked me with a smirk on his lips. I want to kiss that smirk off, she thought.
I want to kiss her in the best clichè way possible, he thought. "Stop it" I whined smiling.
"Okay, okay. What's your favorite flower?" Dylan suddenly asked.
Y/n thought about it.
"What kind of-"
"Just tell me."
Y/f/f. I really love the way they open up to the sun and the way they enlighten the way." Y/n answered looking at him who had a smile printed on his face.
"That's why I asked you out." He blurted out. Y/n frowned confused. What did he mean, she thought. "You are different.
You are not the kind of girl to say 'roses', I am sure if I asked you about your favorite dish you would have not said Pizza, you would have thought about something you ate when you were little at your grandma's house." He smiled sincerely at her cupping her face into his hands.
"That's why I like you." Y/n giggled softly and bit his lower lip to stop a major grin on her face.
"This is the most clichè thing you have told me today." She wrapped her hands on his wrists who were still on her face and leaned up on her feet to touch her lips with his.
Dylan closed his eyes and kissed her back in front of the sea to the sound of the waves touching the shore.
Even though Y/n and dylan didn't like clichés, they became one. The cutest one, to be exact.
