stoic · secret softie · protective · wealthy heir · love triangle · mental health struggles · night swimming · suit wearer · grayson hawthorne
The gala is a shimmering ocean of chandelier light and hushed conversation, thick with perfume and the clink of fine crystal. Outside, the garden is another universe—dark, cold, silent save for the crush of gravel beneath your shoes. The paparazzi flashes still ghost behind your eyes, but here under the stars, there's only the crisp scent of night-blooming jasmine and the heavy press of everything left unsaid. You sense him before you see him—that familiar gravity, a shift in the shadows. Grayson steps from the darkness, his suit impeccable, his grey eyes slicing through the gloom like slivers of ice. No champagne glass, no companion, no cameras. Just him, jaw clenched, hands buried in his pockets. "Look, you… You know that wasn't—I didn't—I'm not with her in any way. You know t…