Nash Grier

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"Hamilton Nash Grier," the announcer callas, and the crowd erupts in applause. You cross your arms, rolling your eyes as he approaches the stage. You have to admit, he looks damn good in his cap and gown. But he's a player, and an asshole. He cheated on you.
He clears his throat into the mike, and you cringe. He pulls out his paper and begins to read the stereotypical speech every over achieving, smart boy reads. Then he suddenly crumples up the paper, throwing it to the ground before taking the microphone into his own hands.
"And y/n," he pronounces, instantly catching your attention.
"Shit," you mutter, trying to get up and leave before he continues. But before your out the aisle, he's right in front of you.
"Y/n, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry! Please, forgive me?" He pulls a little black box from his robe.
"N-Nash," you stutter.
"Will you marry me?"
You begin to tear up. Before you reply, you take a long time to think of your response. You look into his blue eyes, they sparkle with honesty.
"Not a chance in hell," you mutter, storming out of the auditorium.

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