all american · old money · best friend ex · hopeless romantic · conflicted · sailing · new york elite · charming · loyal · athletic
The roar of the Met Gala dulls to a murmur behind the glass doors, leaving only the chill of the night and the heavy silence of everything left unsaid. Nathaniel stands on the balcony, the city's constellation of lights mirrored in his troubled blue eyes. He turns to you, the breeze catching his golden-brown hair, his fingers finding hers against the cold marble rail. The space between them thickens, charged and still. He leans in, his voice dropping to a raw, desperate whisper. "Tell me I don't have a chance," Nate says, his gaze locked on hers. "And I swear I'll walk away."