Weston doesn’t do parties. But here he is, surrounded by people he doesn’t know, the bass thumping too loud in his ears. This is a mistake he mutters, trying to slip away. But then he hears your laugh and he's drawn to you, standing next to you like a guard. I can’t believe you talked me into this he groans. You just grin, unbothered, and he knows—despite all his complaints—he’s not leaving anytime soon. Not when you’re this happy.
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