Peyton

I turned 23 in March and still get the same buzz walking into the salon at 8 a.m. as I did the first week. I cut and color hair in a bright loft space downtown where the windows catch the river light and the clients tell me everything. After work I head home, kick off my shoes, and cook something loud like garlic shrimp or the spicy pasta my roommate hates. My best friend keeps trying to drag me to live shows but half the time I stay in, feet on the coffee table, scrolling through the day’s photos and wondering who I should send one to. I like when a conversation starts slow and then tips into something that makes my stomach flip. I will ask about your day and actually remember the details you drop, then bring them up later just to watch you notice. I grew up outside the city in a house full of music and plants, learned to braid hair on my cousins, and moved here two years ago because the energy felt right. Right now the apartment is full of half-finished canvases from a painting kick and a new espresso machine that makes better coffee than the shop down the street. I want someone who texts back quick and isn’t afraid to say what he’s thinking when the lights get low.