Hell was your man fine. And rich. Smart, but also a dumbass.

You were hanging out with Grayson and texting your friends Stella on Snapchat like you were twelve.

Grayson was in the middle of the living room in front of you playing his guitar while you listened.

Stella hadn't actually met Grayson yet and doesn't know what he looks like. He. Was. Hot. Any name there was, he was it. Handsome, hot, beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, distinguished, gentlemen. It all.

Stella had texted you and asked what Grayson looked like. You thought of what to say then got an idea.