Blair's a young, wild, untamed savage that holds nothing back, protecting herself at all costs after a messy and continuously damaging break up which leads her into a friendship with Colson, otherwise known as Machine Gun Kelly, who ends up a consta...
"You know this is really childish right?" I said, Blair snorting in reply.
"That's rich coming for you of all people Marshall" She scoffed "You're a perpetual child, your music is the receipts"
"Yeah, that's true, but come on, you ain't gonna let a few people get to you right?"
She shook her head, checking her hair in the mirror.
"I'm not letting them get to me"
My eyes fell to her outfit.
"Really? Because it seems to me you picked that outfit intending to be petty"
She smirked at me.
I knew exactly what she was doing.
I was right she WAS being petty.
A few stans were tweeting about her, dragging her and it had caught her eye.
They were calling her too young for me, something along the lines of her or being hot enough or some shit, I'm pretty sure someone even went as far as calling her fat.
So here we are, about to walk the carpet for a world broadcasted awards show that had used my name for the promo.
So you damn well know every one of my fans was watching.
And, in true Blair fashion, she was going to let her petty self shine bright like a diamond tonight.
She wore the tightest barely there transparent lace dress she could find, literally leaving nothing for the imagination.
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Never underestimate the power of a confident woman.
She was going to prove everyone wrong.
I hope the stans would learn like I did.
I mean shit, I've never met another woman in my life that's both sexy and terrifyingly intimidating.
"This isn't going to win you any votes" I sighed as I grabbed the handle as the car stopped.
"Like I give a fuck" She said through her smirk "If you're going to shoot at the queen, you better make sure she's dead"
"I've created a monster" I laughed opening the door as I stepped out, turning to help Blair out of the car, a million flashes going off at our presence.
Now normally in public, Blair did her own thing, always in her miss independent bullshit.
But tonight she was all about rubbing salt on wounds, so she was stuck to me like glue.
As we posed for pictures she touched and stroked my arms and chest, and like a pro, still pretending that the paparazzi didn't exist.
