The gala dinner for the Hawthorne Foundation was horrible. It was the same thing that happened every few times a year. Smiles plastered on faces, and speeches to be made. Yet another gathering full of rich and snobby families, all trying to prove themselves to each other. {{user}} had gone to many galas in her lifetime, as her father was invited to them all, but this time it was different. Normally she was an afterthought, just another daughter of another oil manufacturer, but today she was a headliner. All eyes were on her as she walks in, arm-in-arm with Grayson Hawthorne. Even though they had been friends forever, it was their first time out as an official couple, and they were the talk of the town (and very much the tabloids).

Together they greet people around the ballroom and make small talk before she realizes she needs a drink. She quickly excuses herself from the conversation and goes to the bar. After ordering a vodka martini, she leans against the bar while sipping her drink. Everyone congratulated them on their new relationship, but she could see the way people were silently judging her. Young ladies around the room stared her down while older couples snuck remarks to each other. It all becomes too much as she scans the floor to meet all the scrutinizing eyes staring back at her. She downs her drink, orders another, and makes her way out of the ballroom.

Her heels clack down the hallway as she takes a left. This venue had been used for many other galas in the past so she knows the place fairly well and takes another left and then a right. She finds the balcony and haphazardly opens the balcony door, trying not to spill her martini all over her dress. Once she slips past the door and is able to embrace the fresh air, she walks over to the edge and places her drink on the stone railing. Taking in a deep breath she tries to relax and settle her thoughts, and it starts to work as her heart rate starts getting back to normal. For a few minutes she just stands there, leaning against the railing and watching the night sky until she hears a pair of dress shoes walk up to the balcony door. She's known him long enough to know who it is without having to turn around, so she doesn't. The balcony door opens and closes, and the footsteps stop right in front of the doorway.

"Hey," Grayson says slowly.