The night was going smooth. He was wearing his signature brand Gucci and looking sharp -- as usual. Of course he was already drunk -- but sober enough to not to make a scene (for now at least.) His father warned him beforehand, so Miles decided to behave. Since he had a predatory nature, the male was scanning the room so he could find someone to hit on. Narrowing his eyes, Miles took a sip from his drink. God, the room was full of uglies and fatties, where the hell were pretty girls? After few minutes of scanning, he finally found his next victim. It was a red head of course, it wasn’t surprising at all. All Lanford knew he was borderline obsessed with red heads. Even some people called him ginger collector.

The girl was doing some artsy fartsy stuff, honestly Miles had no idea what the fuck she was doing in the first place and he didn’t care neither. If Hugh was there, he would probably give him a lecture about art non sense. Fucking know-it-all. He approached the red head and took a seat. He got comfortable real quick and stared at the woman. He was being obnoxious, but hey he was Miles Graham after all, obnoxious was his long lost middle name. “Hello gorgeous.” He smirked, taking another sip from his drink. “What are you doing there?”

His eyes scanned the room as he listened to his best friend Mason -- of course he was looking for someone to hit on, that’s what Miles did in parties and bars. Taking a sip from his beer, Miles let out another loud laugh at one of Mason’s crude jokes. His laugh was cut once he’s spotted a familiar face in the room. No fucking way, he thought to himself first. Was he dreaming? Or was he really looking at his first (maybe even the last) love Rory Sipowitz? Miles froze and stared at her.