"Are you sure you can pay for us all?" Josh asked with an uncertain glance at Paris as they walked into the restaurant. Mason had to admit that he had a point; it looked really fucking expensive.

"Of course," she insisted.

"Your family must be rich as fuck," Mason noted. His own family could be considered well off, but even he knew that this place would cost too much for him to eat at normally.

"I guess," she laughed almost uncomfortably. How weird.

Mason wanted to know why money seemed to be such a sore topic but the conversation was interrupted by a host greeting them.

"Good evening to you all," he smiled warmly. "Do you have a reservation with us?" Well shit. Mason wished he would've known it was apparently a black tie event; he was not dressed for the occasion.

"Yes," Paris stepped forward, "Under Young for 6:30." She seemed so comfortable in such an elegant place that it was almost obvious she had been in a similar environment before. She fit right fucking in, even with the simple skirt and blouse she was currently wearing.

"Ah yes, table for four?" Paris nodded in confirmation. "And you requested the balcony, correct?" She nodded again with a polite smile. "If you'll follow me please."

"This is so fucking fancy dude," Mason whispered to Josh and Carly as they followed behind Paris and the employee.

"I know right," Carly responded softly. "Maybe it's the accent, but you'd think she was a celebrity or something with how normal she's acting. I haven't been to a place like this in literally ever."

"Here you are," the host opened a set of doors and gestured to a single table on the balcony. "You waiter should be with you shortly."

"Thank you," Paris smiled as he left them to seat themselves, letting the doors fall closed behind him. "Come on," she nodded towards the table.

"Holy shit." Mason was in god-honest awe as he looked around them. The table was square, a chair on each side, with a simple white tablecloth as décor. It was laden with silverware, cloth napkins, and a menu for each person. And the view itself, holy fuck.

He noticed Paris glare at him as she sat, brushing her skirt underneath her thighs so as to not flash anyone before placing the napkin on her lap. "Let's try not to be so crude right now, shall we?"

"Fuck, sorry," he sat down beside her. "Shit- I mean- jesus." He sighed with frustration as he rubbed his temples.

"You're terrible at this," she deadpanned.

"I'm seriously trying not to be," he defended. "It's just like fucking second nature or someth- fuck." He was on the verge of panicking, worried that she might actually be mad at him, before he realized that she was laughing. So softly that he could barely hear it, but she was most definitely giggling.

She was hiding her mouth behind her hand, staring at him above her fingers with squinted eyes. "Sorry," her voice was muffled. "That was funny."

"It was," Josh agreed and Mason noticed that Carly and him had sat down earlier, although he wasn't sure when.

"You're all assholes," he muttered with a shake of his head.

"Language," Carly reminded.

Mason rolled his eyes as he unzipped his sweatshirt before he tugged it off and hung it over the back of his chair. He ignored Carly, instead focusing on his other roommate of the opposite sex. "You could have at least told us to dress nice, you know?"

"Why?" Her eyes ran down the length of his body, lingering on his shoulders for a second too long to be unnoticeable. "You look fine."

"Oh?" He smirked at her, "You look mighty fine yourself," and winked.

Paris's mouth opened - as if in preparation to speak - before she was interrupted by the door opening. Another employee walked in, notepad in hand. "Hello everyone," he greeted. "How are you all tonight?"

"Very well thank you," Paris answered before anyone else had the chance to.

"Wonderful," he grinned. "Can I start you off with some drinks?"

"Yes, I'd like to request a bottle of the finest wine you have for the table and a glass of water for myself." Mason and Josh shared a glance, they were having wine?

"Of course," he scribbled something down. "Is the Meiomi Pinot Noir suited to your taste Miss?"'

"Perfect."

"Do you have an ID with you?" A brief flash of panic flittered through Paris's gaze, before she relaxed.

Now that he thought about it, Mason had no idea how old she was. She looked young, younger than his own twenty-one years of age. Can she even drink?

But he watched as she pulled out an ID from a purse he hadn't even noticed she was holding and handed it to the waiter. He glanced at it for only a brief second before giving it back to her. "Thank you. Any other drinks for the table?"

The waiter finally directed his gaze to the rest of the table's occupants, having been fixated on Paris for so long. "A water is fine," Mason responded. More scribbling.

"I'd like an iced tea, please," Carly stated.

"And another water for me as well," Josh added after a moment of more writing.

"I will be back with those drinks momentarily," he grinned at them before leaving the room (if you could even call it that).

"You're twenty-one," was the first thing said; Josh was the one to ask it.

"That's what my ID says," Paris winked.

Either she was being a smartass and didn't want to tell them her age, or she was doing something very illegal.

Mason silently hoped it was the latter.

The door suddenly opened once more and Mason was surprised at how little time it took to gather all the drinks. Only - when he glanced over - the waiter wasn't holding any drinks, and instead a small slip of paper. "For you, Miss," he handed Paris the note. "From table 14," he gestured to a table just visible through the open door where a couple sat.

She froze upon seeing it, stiffening in her seat as she read whatever was written. She suddenly bit her lip, nodding at the waiter as he left once more. "I'll be right back." Her voice was hardly louder than a fucking whisper. "Feel free to order for me if I don't make it back in time."

~~~

She didn't make it back in time to order; neither did she make it back in time to have the first glass of wine. And Mason was beginning to feel tipsy by the time she finally sat back down.

"Look who fucking showed up," he slurred slightly. "Who're you talking to?"

"Are you drunk," she frowned, a pretty crease forming between her eyebrows.

"Pfft," Mason snorted. "I don't get drunk."

"Right," she nodded sarcastically with an eye roll. She took a sip of the glass of wine Mason had poured for her almost ten minutes earlier and hummed at the taste. "This is good."

"Yeah. Who knew rich people wine would taste this great?" Carly asked rhetorically as she too took another sip of wine.

"It's cold," Paris announced as a shiver wracked through her form. She lifted her hands to rub her arms absentmindedly, shoulders hunching slightly as a breeze brushed over her skin.

"You're annoying as hell, y'know that?" Mason struggled to pull his jacket off the chair - almost dropping it multiple times - before finally draping it across her shoulders.

"Why are you-," Mason cut her off before she could say anymore.

"You're cold right? Jus' fuckin' thank me before I take it back m'kay?"

"Thanks," she whispered.

And while Mason might have been a bit tipsy (okay he was drunk off his ass) he could've sworn he saw her burrow into the sweatshirt when she pulled her arms through the sleeves.

It made him smile.

~~~