{Miley}

This was it.

As the limousine came to a stop, I gazed out the window at the red carpet stretching before me. A herd of cameramen and interviewers milled around behind a railing that separated them from the celebrities walking along the carpet. A few of them turned to look at our limousine to see who was arriving.

There was no turning back now. My heart began to beat faster and faster as I thought about the headlines that would be plastered all over the tabloids tomorrow morning.

Then I felt a strong, reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"It's okay." These comforting words were murmured in my ear by an even more comforting voice. I began to calm down as I felt his warm, steady breath on my shoulder. I turned my head just far enough to see his face, which immediately made my face brighten. A small smile played at the corners of my lips as I brushed a stray curl from his face. I don't know how long we were looking into eachother's eyes, but it felt like we were interrupted much too soon.

"Hey, I hate to ruin the moment and all, but I'm wasting gas here." Our driver retorted in his thick New York accent as he twisted around in his seat to face us. I reluctantly broke my gaze from Nick to look at the driver, which immediately made me want to get out. The greasy, black strands that were left of whatever hair he ever had were slicked back on his nearly bald head. Even from the back seat, I could still here him chomping away on his gum. Every once in a while he barred his crooked, yellowing teeth as he cleared his throat.

"Okay, okay. We're going." I could almost feel Nick rolling his eyes as he replied. He grabbed my hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze, telling me it was okay to get out, without even saying anything to me at all.

With a tight grip on his hand, I smoothed out my dress one last time, opened the door, and stepped out. Nick quickly got out behind me, then we surveyed the scene together.

The reporters who had been watching the car all took in a sharp breath as they saw us. Naturally, that made the rest of the interviewers turn to see what was going on. I looked around as they went silent for a moment, staring at us, wide-eyed. Then they all came back to life and hurried over to us, immediately attacking us with questions. I felt as if I couldn't breath as they closed in on us like tigers on their prey.

"How long have you been keeping your relationship a secret?"

"What does it feel like to be finally dating Nick Jonas?"

"When did you two start dating?"

"Whats your favorite thing about him?"

"Why did you choose the Grammy's to publically come out together?"

I ignored the questions as well as the microphones being shoved into my face and glanced over at Nick, although I could barely see him through the bright flashes of cameras. But I could see that he was getting mauled with just as many questions as I was. I slowly laced our fingers together and started walking down the carpet, and he willingly followed me. Once inside the venue, I started breathing again. Nick wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me in closer to him. I laid my head on his shoulder and stood their for a moment to pull myself together.

You'd think I'd be used to this by now. But reporters are something that I had never been able to become comfortable with. Whenever they came down on me, my throat would close up. I wouldn't be able to say anything more than squeaks. I just felt like a deer in the headlights. My family, as well as Nick, said it was just chlostrophobia, but I wasn't so sure.

I closed my eyes as my breath became steadier when I felt Nick's lips on my temple. His hand ran up and down my lower back, rubbing it gently. He always knew exactly how to get me to calm down.

I opened my eyes and smiled at him. He returned a warm smile before leading me over to the table we were to sit at for the awards ceremony.

He was always so relaxed. while I freaked out over everything. And they wonder how opposites attract.