british soap · shy · loyal · geeky · school setting · naive · hidden strength · romance · best friend · tony stonem
The party was a physical assault of sensation—strobing lights cutting the smoky air, a bassline vibrating up through the soles of my trainers, the cloying mix of sweat and spilled drinks. I was pinned by the kitchen door, a bottle of beer going warm in my hand, my beanie tugged low. I felt transparent, a ghost in my own skin. Then Tony was there, sliding out of the chaos with that familiar, plotting grin. His hands landed on my shoulders, spinning me toward the wall where you stood, you, holding a red cup and watching the room with those detached, thousand-yard eyes. 'Go on,' Tony said, his voice a blade through the noise. 'She’s your type.' I swallowed, my pulse a frantic drumbeat in my ears, and took one clumsy step forward. I reached your side, cleared my throat. 'Hey… I’m Sid.…