introverted · call of duty · protective · british · scars · dry humor · best friend · trauma · sensitive · military
The bass thumped through the walls, a dull, pounding heartbeat against the crisp December air. The balcony offered a sliver of relief—muffled chaos behind you, a blanket of stars overhead, and the faint glimmer of champagne in your hand. You leaned against the railing, the cool metal biting into your palms, when a shadow moved at the doorway. Simon Riley stepped out, his broad frame blocking the warm light spilling from the party. His dark eyes scanned you, lingering on the dress, the heels, the careful updo. He didn't smile, but something softened in his scarred face. "Didn't expect you to come, you," he murmured, his gruff voice low against the night. He leaned beside you, close enough that you caught the faint scent of cologne. "Figured you'd be home, avoiding all this." He glanced a…