I’d let you pick up my chips and my heart, in that order.
Are we at roulette? Because my heart keeps landing on your number.
Your smile outshines the neon; want to share my champagne comp?
Baby, you’re my lucky number; may I place a chip on you?
I’d double down on you even when the house has the edge.
Call me dealer, I’ll deal you a hand of compliments and a kiss.
You must be a high roller — I can’t stop staring at your VIP glow.
Are you a slot machine? Because every time I pull, I get butterflies.
Mind if I sit at your table? I’d like to bet my whole night on you.
Is your name Jackpot? Because my heart just hit the progressive when you walked in.
Is your smile an express? Because it sped right to my heart.
Is your name Route 7? Because you've been running through my mind all day.
Are you the last call for boarding? Because boarding you sounds perfect.
If love had a bus lane, I'd ride it straight to your doorstep.
Do you mind if I reserve this moment like a priority seating?
If attraction required validation, your eyes just stamped my ticket.
Call me a bus ad—I want to be plastered with your smile.
Is your heart a transfer point? Because I can stay whenever.
Mind if I call dibs on the window seat of your heart?
Are you a route change? Because you flipped my whole day.
I must be on a night bus—your eyes are the only stars I see.
Want to swap schedules? I'll open mine up for us to meet.
If charm was a fare, you'd be premium and I'd pay extra.
Are you a bus shelter? Because I've been taking refuge in your presence.
Can I be your layover? I promise to be pleasantly surprising.
You make waiting for buses feel like waiting for fireworks.
Are you the stop sign? Because everything else goes blurry when you're near.
If this bench had a romance policy, we'd be in violation for excessive flirting.
Are you a conductor's whistle? Because you stop me in my tracks.
If you were a route number, you'd be "1" — the one for me.
