Darren only spent one night at Scott’s before catching the train to London and back out to Cambridge. (Bloody engineering works. Who had engineering works in the week before Christmas?) Scott dropped him off in his orange monstrosity of a car, and then Darren boarded a train, put on his headphones, and blocked out the rest of the known universe.
At least the physical one. He couldn’t deny it: there was an anxiety churning in his gut. He hadn’t seen Jayden since he’d started university, and the change was obvious enough over the phone and the internet. He was drinking wine. Their last two Skype calls, he’d been wearing a proper shirt instead of a too-large T-shirt. He’d told Darren off for making a lewd remark on f*******: the other week. In his own status, it hadn’t even been on Jayden’s
