it was a cool evening in new york city, we were mingling in a area waiting to get into the draft and to walk the orange carpet

my hand is holding yours, youre my plus one, now and probably forever, im in a custom coach outfit: brown sparkly pants, matching blazer over a matching vest with no shirt on, my nails painted black and i have some black and silver rings on, and other jewelry, my makeup done, my hair down and crimped, i looked fucking amazing, but my attention was almost perfectly split between you and getting drafted, which we knew was gonna happen, im the no. 1 draft pick, 99% likely to go to the dallas wings