So High School by Taylor Swift.

"And in a blink of a crinkling eye, I'm sinking, our fingers entwined, cheeks pink in the twinkling lights."

"And you're sure it was him?" Jameson asks me carefully. "I'm sure." I confirm, hands still shaking violently even the next morning.

We're on our way to a football game. Because of course, hat's the only thing I can think of doing right now.

"What if it was a prank.." Avery suggests gently.

"Hey, you guys didn't see her. Just lay off. She says it was him, it was him." Grayson butts in, connecting our hands from beside me in the limo. We all decided to ride in together after the recent threats last night, yet to be debunked.

"P?" He whispers, sliding us gently over to the opposite side of the limo to everyone else to have a minute alone. I nod slowly, letting him speak.

"You okay?" He raises a brow. "Mhm.." I slowly nod. 

"What do you need from me?" Grayson asks gently. His thumb caressing my palm.

"Just.. don't leave me alone.. if I'm alone he can get me." I say with a shaky voice. "I was gonna do that anyway." He confirms, placing a hand on my cheek and gently brushing his thumb across my cheekbone to calm me.

"In this together. Okay?" He offers. I nod sheepishly and let my body collapse into his the second he opens his arms for me. He holds me tight. 

The crisp autumn air feels electric as I walk hand-in-hand with Grayson toward the stadium. The vibrant colors of the crowd blur around us, a sea of jerseys and painted faces, each pulse of excitement matching the quickened beat of my heart. Any one of these painted faces could be my ex boyfriend ready to kill me.

This is our first big event all together in a year, and I wish I could I was relishing in the closeness, but I was on edge.

Grayson stands tall beside me, his light blonde hair tousled by the wind, and I can't help but steal glances at him. He's dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, as always, but this morning he's traded his usual somber look for a hint of a smile that tugs at his lips. "You good?" he asks, his silver eyes sparkling with worry.

I mumble somewhat of an answer and keep walking. As we approach the entrance, the noise amplifies. Cheers erupt from within, and I can see flashes of camera lights through the throng of fans. My pulse quickens—not from the thrill of the game, but from the sudden swarm of paparazzi that descends upon us as soon as we step through the gate.

"Paris! Grayson! Over here!" A few people shout, snapping pictures at a rapid-fire pace. The moment feels chaotic, overwhelming. I instinctively pull closer to him, seeking the comfort of his presence.

Grayson's demeanour shifts instantly. He now stands protectively in front of me, his body a solid wall against the barrage of flashes. His arm behind his back to hold my hand as he leads me through the crowds.

"Just keep walking," he murmurs, his voice low and steady. I can feel his warmth radiating, a grounding force amid the chaos.

I nod, trying to maintain my composure, though I feel achingly exposed. The press has a way of amplifying insecurities, but with Grayson holding tightly to my hand and guiding me through, clocking off anyone from reaching me, I feel a little more comforted. 

We get to the entrance of the arena, he spins me around by the hand, pressing me against his chest now, so that we're walking chest to back with his right hand on my left hip as he half-hugs me.

He takes a step forward, leading me through the maze of shouting photographers, his grip firm on my waist.

"Paris! Tell us the condition of your back!" One journalist yells. "Will you be returning to Massachusetts soon?" The lady adds.

I twist my neck and watch his unwavering face, looking particularly phenomenal from down here with a clear sightline of his jaw.

"I'm doing well now. I'll be returning shortly." I answer briefly, scavenging through all those media classes I blacked out during.

"Can you confirm the pregnancy?" Another chimes in, and my heart skips a beat. He doesn't answer this one, leaving me wondering if I should before rumours start. "Is the baby healthy?" Someone follows up, taking our silence as a yes.

"The food baby is doing great." I scoff bitterly. Grayson looks down at me, squeezing my hip where his hand lays comfortingly.

"Yeah, I'm the one carrying it after all the junk you've been feeding me since Christmas." He jokes, making me smile gently.

"Where we going?" I mutter up to Grayson, who lowers his head to hear me better as I ask him once again, placing a lipsticked kiss on his jaw once I've asked. He nods to the left, completely unfazed by the normal intimacy between us. He guides us to the left where he takes me inside the elevator, using his thumb to hit a certain level. Security stops all the paparazzi from pushing in and riding up with us. 

The second the doors ping shut I sigh in the bitter release of silence.

"You look gorgeous today." He comments, backing up from me, no longer holding me to protect me. He now just fixes his suit.

"You're not bad yourself." I smirk, turning to look out the window of the elevator to watch as all the photographers shrink further and further out of view as we reach the very top of the stadium.

"I thought we were in Avery's box?" I question him curiously, turning back towards him just in time for his hands to meet either side of my hips, looking out the window just as I am, watching the people turn to mere dots.

"We've got a little time yet. Say.. half an hour. I didn't want all the crowds, thats dangerous given everything happening. We'll head back when the game starts." He informs me, leading me out of the elevator and unlocking a wooden door.

We're met with that achingly familiar room. The room is none other than Tobias Hawthorne's private room. The place I had my first panic attack after some fireworks reminded me of gunshots. And where we fucked at the last football game I attended.

"Did we.." I trail off with  raised brow, "We did." He smirks in response, confirming what I knew.

Pushing myself up onto the table, I cross my legs, slipping my mary janes under my thighs. My black pleated skirt is right up my thighs, not that Grayson pays it any mind as he slides onto the table beside me. The navy blue hooded sweater is slightly oversized, providing some warmth whilst still looking immensely cute.

"I texted the others to let them know that we're up here." He informs me, calmly placing a hand on my thigh.

I let my head fall onto his shoulder and relax as we watch the distant Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders performing.

"I used to do that stuff." I inform him conversationally. "Yeah for high school football games. Hardly the same level." He teases, poking my ribs.

"I was the co-captain for a reason. I was the flier, so I got thrown around." I explain in reminisce.

"You ever miss it?" He frowns. I open my mouth to say no before I stop myself. "Yeah.. actually." I answer honestly.

"I bet you were good." He comments. "I singlehandedly kept that cheer-squad running. You know a couple months after we moved her, the whole team just got discontinued. And apparently the dance squad has never won a contest since I left." I boast jokingly, earning a snort from my boyfriend. "I don't doubt that for even a second."

"You know, I actually learnt the thunderstruck dance back in 2012? My Mom walked in on me wearing her work shirt rolled up and tight, and my white shorts pulled up my ass." I shake my head in shame.

"When you were 8?!" He cackles. "Yeah.. I still have the videos I made Avery take on my Mom's phone." I add with a small smile in memory of Avery complaining about how many times I was restarting.

"I need to see that." He emphasises, I start scanning through my camera roll, passing all the eerily embarrassing selfies I took on my Mom's phone before we could afford to get Avery and I one.

"I didn't get a phone until I was 13." I tell him as I scroll, he furrows his brows, then immediately softens them upon the remembrance that not everyone grew up as billionaires.

I find the video of a tiny me performing the dance beside the tiny cracked tv from where Ricky had punched it in fury. With wild facial expressions like a child star, I jumped around and danced, undoubtably getting every move perfect, but still looking deranged with the looks on my face.

Grayson laughs as he watches it, insisting on sending it to himself because of how hilarious and adorable it is. 

I feel a slight ache in my stomach when I look at one of the failed attempts, feeling violently ill as I watch myself 10 years ago dancing on literal broken glass outside. There's screaming in the background from Ricky, Mom sent us both outside to play in the garden so we wouldn't hear them fighting, but we heard all of it. Our public housing flat was awful, the garden was communal and filled with broken glass, rusted toys and trash. But inside was potentially even worse. Mould infested every single wall, the wallpaper peeling at every corner, literal dirt all over.

Grayson cringes when my knees crash onto the broken glass. My childhood screams echo in the video as a child version of me wails and starts crying for her 'Daddy'. Traumatised but unable to pry my eyes off, I watch as my younger self ran frantically inside sobbing and running towards Ricky, who was too busy drinking a beer. Grayson lets out an audible gasp when Ricky pushes my tiny body away, making me stumble back and then subsequently run to Mommy. The video cuts out abruptly when Ricky yells at Avery to put our Mothers phone down.

I still remember that day. Mom sat me on the dirty counter and cleaned up my knees then put plasters over the small scratches. 

"Shit, P.." Grayson gapes with heartbreak.

"Don't." I stop him, pulling my legs up into my arms and just staring at the women performing below.

"I'm sorry." He replies, not pushing on it because he knows how much it hurts, but making sure I know he's there. He wraps an arm around me to hold me. I lean into him.

"Love you." I mumble against his shoulder. "You too baby." He replies softly, pressing a kiss to my hair.

We watch the game from up here, the time slipping away from us, and before we even realise it, it's half time. "Were we not gonna go down at the start of the game?" I laugh. "We were. But now we're here." He shrugs unbothered.

"And what are we doing now that it's half time?" I frown up at him with confusion.

"I could think of a few things." He smirks cheekily.

"Oh yeah?" I hum, matching his tone with a grin. 

"If you're up for it?" He offers calmly. "I'm always up for it, Gray." I laugh and connect our lips intensely.

I don't hesitate to tear my sweater over my head.

"Is this new?" He groans against my lips casually, pinging the strap of my new black lace bra. There's not much of it, just floral lace and a tiny bow in the middle. It's a push up bra, making my boobs look huge.

"You like?" I grin cheekily. "I love." He corrects adoringly, stripping his own blazer off followed by his shirt and tie. 

"You're so fucking hot." I growl, letting him sweep me by the thighs to the end of the large table, slamming against his hard chest.

"You're one to talk." He scoffs, kissing my neck and collarbones, leaving behind hickeys from where he sucks my skin vigorously. 

His hand yanks my skirt off without even unzipping it, along with his own pants, leaving him in just those tempting designer underwear. 

I suddenly hear thunderstruck and watch all the cheerleaders running out to the field. I gasp and smile. 

"You wanna do the dance?" Grayson smirks. "No.. no.. we're kissing.." I refuse, bringing our lips back together. "I'll wait." He gestures for me to go on. 

Immediately a smile bursts to my face and I jump up to my feet on the table, performing the dance towards him as I giggle. He just smiles, watching me intently. 

"What?" I smirk as I flip my hair in one of the moves. "You're adorable." He laughs genuinely.

"Shut up!" I laugh hysterically, keeping up effortlessly with the professionals.

The second the songs over I sit back down on the edge of the table, panting and smiling as I fix my hair over my shoulder.

Grayson keeps his hands planted on either side of me, watching me with a huge smile. 

"You did that on a table, in heels, wearing only underwear and tights. And you didn't miss a beat." He reaches up and caresses my cheek.

"You're sort of forgetting i'm training to be a professional dancer?" I laugh, out of breath a little.

"You're gifted. You're a star. I can see it now. 'Paris Hawthorne, best dancer in the world.' Someday." He envisions. 

"Hawthorne?" My smile immediately drops. 

This is how he's gonna do it. He's about to get on one knee. He's proposing. 

"Well.. someday?" He smirks proudly. I just blink.

"Hey i've been meaning to give you something." He says seriously.

My heart clenches. This is really happening. He's gonna ask me to marry him.

Grayson produces a small box, and my whole body tenses.

I feel dizzy.

Don't. Please stop. Put the ring away. Change your mind.

"P.. I love you.." he starts, opening the box and revealing it is in fact a shining ring. An expensive shiny silver ring.

When he does this I have to figure out how to say no without breaking up with him. I just don't think we're ready. That should work. Just simple and outright.

"I know it's hard doing long distance.. so I wanted to let you know I trust you.." He swears. 

Don't you dare.

"I want to spend my whole life with you.. and i've been thinking for a while now, and i really can't imagine a future with anyone but you.." Grayson continues.

Put the box down. Don't. Don't do it.

Jesus. I'm about to get proposed to at a football game, in nothing but my underwear and tights, my makeup isn't even that cute.

"And you're only 18, i'm only 21." 

Good. He's not proposing.

"But.." 

Shit okay he is proposing.

"I want to keep playing things by ear."

Maybe he isn't?

"But I really want to marry you.."

Shit this is actually happening.

"Someday.."

For fucks sake Grayson, hurry up.

"Grayson?" I urge. "Yeah baby?" He hums. "You're killing me here." I plead.

"Shit.. this is dragging isn't it? What I was saying is that I really want you to be my wife someday. But I don't think we're ready... But I also can't stand calling you my girlfriend like you're not my everything." He says.

"I was thinking this could mean something in between engaged and dating. Like we're engaged to be engaged. So this ring is.. sort of like a promise I guess. A promise that one day it'll be a real ring. And you'll be my real fiancée. It sounds so stupid, Libs made me do it." He laughs with a roll of his eyes.

I sigh in relief. "Gray why would you do this to me?" I laugh hysterically, out of air from holding my breath for so long.

His face drops. "What-" He starts.

"I thought you were proposing." I laugh, grabbing his hand and placing it on my heart to feel how fast it's pounding.

"You.. You thought.." He suppresses a smile then just lets it out, laughing with me.

"You turned 18 like 4 months ago." He mocks. 

"Skylar got it in my head you were proposing!" I defend.

"Skylar- I told her-" He says with anger. "She didn't tell me. She held her ground." I defend her. Grayson shakes her head laughing. "The only person I told. And she let it slip." He scoffs.

"Hardly. I've spent the whole week thinking you'd ask me to marry you." I snort.

"With this ring? Never." He furrows his brow.

I gape down at the shiny gorgeous ring. "Grayson this looks like it cost triple what my house in Connecticut cost." I stare wildly at him.

"Just wait til you see the real one." He winks, slipping the promise ring on my middle finger. 

"I love you." I grin brightly, lunging forward into his frame the second the ring is on. 

"You too baby." He laughs against my hair.

"Now where were we?" He grins cheekily, pressing his lips against my neck making me sigh gently.

He pulls away from me, just to admire me, brushing the hair off my shoulders. Even with me perched on the table with him standing between my legs, he looms over me.

Grayson's eyes darken with desire as he takes in the sight of my ample cleavage straining against the confines of my skimpy lace bra. He traces a finger along the edge of the cup, grazing the swell of my breast.

"You're so beyond gorgeous." He praises. His voice is rough with want as he slips the delicate fabric down just for a moment, exposing my rosy nipples to his hungry gaze to give himself a peak. 

Recovering my breasts with the lacy fabric, he moves to my feet, unbuckling my Mary Janes and slipping them off. Followed by my tights which he rolls off effortlessly.

Looping his finger in the waistband of my lacy black underwear. His thumb strokes gently over my folds, with only the thin lacy fabric between our touch.

"Can I take this off P?" Grayson gestures to my bra, I nod frantically, desperate for his touch. With our quick movement, my bra slips off my shoulders, he throws it to the ground. Revealing my hardened nipples.

Leaning forward, Grayson draws one puckered peak into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud and sucking gently.

One hand continues its exploration above my underwear while the other kneads my neglected breast, rolling and pinching my nipple between his fingers. Grayson lavishes attention on my chest, alternating between soft licks and firm sucks. 

He does all he can do to make me whimper in desperation. 

He nuzzles the curve of my neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along my pulse point.

With deft fingers he palms my breasts, thumbs circling the peaks of my nipples as he captures my mouth again in a deep, passionate kiss.

Grayson releases my nipple with a pop, gazing up at me with heavy-lidded eyes filled with lust.

"Take.. my underwear off." I beg, desperate for his gentle thumbing over my underwear to turn to something more pleasurable rather than teasing.

With trembling fingers, Grayson removes the lacy underwear, letting it fall to the floor beside us. He drinks in the sight of her me, perky nipples still peaked from his earlier ministrations.

Grayson cups my breasts harshly, thumbs brushing over the sensitive tips. He dips his head, capturing a nipple between his lips once more, suckling greedily as his hands roam my curves.

"Fuck..." I murmur longingly.

Grayson hums in approval against my bare breast, the vibrations sending ripples of pleasure through me, landing straight between my thighs. He alternates between the two pebbled nipples, lavishing each with equal attention, his skilled mouth driving out cries of pleasure.

Pulling apart our sweaty skin, he brings his kisses down to my thighs instead.

The cool air of the room caresses my newly exposed skin as Grayson drink in the sight of my bare pussy and the desperate heat rising from it.

I know exactly what he's doing. He's torturing me with his slow deliberate pacing, knowing it's killing me. He continues to worship my breasts, suckling and nibbling until they're red and swollen with arousal.

Trailing open-mouthed kisses along my collarbone, his hands work hard to explore the suppleness of my thighs. Fingers dancing along the sensitive skin, he teases the edges of my thighs, inching closer to the dripping heat between them.

"Please.." I whisper desperately. Delicately, he nudges me back onto the table, urging me to lay down as he spreads my legs wide, he settles his head between my legs, kneeling down.

"What do you want me to do, P?" He teases, knowing exactly what I want.

"I want your tongue inside of me- asshole!" I squeal out when he purposely breathes his warm breath all over where he refuses to touch.

"Inside of your asshole? Bold request, but it can be arranged." He teases.

I growl and grip his hair, pulling his head towards my slick folds. Thankfully, he doesn't tease me any longer, exploring my insides all over again with his tongue.

The vibrations of his laugh shoot through to my body with pleasure, and coming out of my vocal cords, ripping through me in moans of enjoyment.

Maddeningly slowly, his tongue probs at my clit, making me grab his blonde hair again, tugging pleadingly until he growls inside of me at the feeling. His tongue flicking right over my clit.

His lips seal around my clit, sucking the hardened nub with passion. He sets his pace based off my moans, being able to tell immediately by my body exactly what I want.

He works his skilled mouth over every inch of me, his hands roam every aspect of my body. Every curve and bend. He teases my nipples, rubbing my overstimulated pebbled buds between his fingers. 

My moans build up to cries of desperation and longing. Making him work harder with that tongue of his.

He begins pumping his fingers in and out of me at the same time, working in a perfect unimaginable symphony.

"Fuck!" I scream, reaching my climax and feeling my orgasm coming close.

He can tell I'm almost there because he starts pounding his fingers in and out, his tongue becoming more demanding.

With the hand not inside of me, he pushes my legs further spread, because apparently without my knowledge, i've been clenching them tighter around his neck.

"Keep them wide for me, P." He says, taking a deep breath before striving for my orgasm. His hand slides up my stomach, gripping my boob and using his thumb to tease me gently. 

Teetering on the edge of my orgasm, my cries turn to desperate screams. With just one final powerful suck on my clit, brushing his teeth against me, I arch my back.

"Let go baby.. come for me." He mutters against my worn out and throbbing flesh. The rumble of his voice, is enough to make me let go of my orgasm. It crashes over me, and he slows down his movements, easing me out as he drinks my release.

My body jolts and spasms, having reached what I feel like was the greatest orgasm of my life. His head lifts, revealing a proud smirk. Releasing the hand he was grasping my breast with, he caresses my hips gently, soothing me as I feel the effects of the post-orgasm.

Watching me with admiration, splayed out before him. I'm panting and flushing bright red. 

"C'mere." I growl, pulling him by the shoulders atop me. He willingly obeys, planting wet kisses on my lips, still covered in my orgasm.

"We've got time until second half." I inform him with a smirk. 

He gives me no need to beg, slipping his underwear off. "Ready?" He asks carefully, his voice hoarse. He rolls a condom on and positions himself at my entrance, the tip of his thick dick teasing my folds.

"Mhmm." I nod, holding one of his hands. With his other hand he nudges open my legs just a little and traces the curve of my hip before resting in my hair.

With a powerful thrust, he buries himself inside of me. Both of us groaning as my warmth envelopes him. His hips start moving methodically, starting out slow and deep. He plunges his entire dick inside of me, making me feel completely filled as I squeeze his hand and claw down his back.

"Gray?" I mutter. "Yeah baby?" He growls huskily, somehow managing to make my legs slip even wider in pleasure.

"I think I'm gonna go on the pill.." I whisper softly. He doesn't respond until a couple thrusts after. 

"That what you want?" He asks me, brushing the damp baby hairs off my sweaty forehead. "Mmhmm.. I don't.. want.. my period.. whilst dancing.. and i.. don't want a.. baby.. until.. after.. school.." I groan out between thrusts.

"Yeah.. if that's what you.. want.. go for it.. just make.. sure you read up.. on the.. side effects." He grits out, stopping his words between pounds inside of me.

"God!" I shriek out when he hits me in the most perfect way. 

My shriek only seems to spur him on, his thrusts become more powerful and fast. A guttural moan emerges from my throat at the sensation. 

"People.. could be.. walking past.." He reminds me in a pant. "I don't care." I dismiss, practically screaming out with pleasure.

"Fuck, P." He groans.

Withdrawing himself from me until just the tip is teasing me I barely give him a second to tease me before I let go of his hand and grip both of his shoulders, pulling him into me. 

The sound of the whole table creaking, skin slapping skin and our mixed moans are the only ones filling the air. 

"I'm almost.." I hiss. "Same.." he growls, giving one last thrust before we both succumb to each other, releasing ourselves and crying out with pleasure.

Collapsing beside me on the table, we both lay there completely naked. We both gasp desperately for air.

"Hey! You horny bastards! Hurry up and get to our seats. The media's going nuts with all the possibilities of where you are." Jameson's voice calls through the door.

"Fuck off!" I yell out, rolling over onto Grayson's firm body, hugging him and kissing his neck delicately. He immediately holds me, arms around my waist, drawing circles all over my hips.

"Sorry! I thought you guys would've finished by now! Considering someone posted a video from outside of you literally screaming!" He laughs mockingly.

"Shit." I murmur, pulling my phone out and finding various articles going viral.

Grayson Hawthorne, 21, and girlfriend Paris Rooney, 18, spotted entering football game together. Half time and still no sightings. New video outside Tobias Hawthorne's private office suggests there may have been a touchdown outside of the Dallas Cowboy game for the happy couple.

Grayson snorts as he reads it, I scroll through other article titles.

Paris Rooney and Grayson Hawthorne take part in scrimmage at today's game.. but not on the pitch.

Hawthorne and Rooney got busy at today's football game.

Young couple believed to be caught in the act? Watch the video here. 

Football fan records videos of an anonymous hookup! And guess who's been missing for the whole game.

Where are this generations it couple hiding? 

"Are we.. the it couple?" I grin mockingly.

"Do we stay in here the whole game? Or do we go out there and own it?" He smirks. 

When we reenter Avery's box, all our friends erupt with cheers for us, making us do the walk of shame to the seats we were supposed to be in ages ago.

"Saw the video, sounds like you are a very lucky girl." Max teases, tickling me teasingly. As we smirk, the huge jumbotron blasts us to the whole audience. "Oh my god." I squeal in embarrassment.

"Own it baby!" Grayson laughs, ruffling my hair and waving at the camera.

"Yes girl! Rock the post orgasm glow!" Xander cheers, whistling for me. "Make that double orgasm." Grayson smirks proudly, pulling me in by the shoulders and kissing my forehead. 

"Love you." He whispers, taking my hand and squeezing it. His finger finds my ring and caresses it proudly. "You too." I reply gently.

Thankfully the screen switches to the actual players, and the game recommences, the two of us watching intently. 

Dallas Cowboy's win and we all jump to our feet, jumping around like animals with excitement. It's moments like this I wish I didn't go to school in Massachusetts so we could get more moments like this together.  

By the time we get back to Hawthorne House, the lip-readers have done it again and somehow translated every single word of our conversation in the box when the cameras were on us. So now we've gone viral for our confirmed hook up at the football game. That's not to say we particularly care though. I'm no longer getting slut shamed, people are just saying that they think our sex would be hot as hell, so I'm taking that as a win for Paris.

(a/n. This chapter is soooo late. I like to think the person who took the video outside the door was some teenagers joking around and laughing instead of some old perv. Let's just say its canon that it was taken by some teenagers going 'omg haha sex'. I hope next chapter won't be as long!! Love you all, thanks for reading, and thanks for 145k!!)