“BEEF!”
It was Paul who hollered, the moment that Darren stepped foot inside the Wetherspoons pub on Queen Street, and half a second later, Jayden laughed and shoved him forward into a two-way hug.
He’d never admit it to anyone, ever, on pain of death, not even Jayden’s mum armed with a wooden spoon and a biscuit tin, but Darren…kind of liked Paul and Ethan’s dual-sided attack hugs. They were less awkward than actual hugging, and he got to stand in the middle while the two of them attempted to crush the life out of him.
And they could. Paul had hit six-foot-five in the last year of school, and had taken up rugby the minute he went to UCL. Ethan wasn’t any taller than Darren, but had maintained his love of ridiculous sports at LSE, building up a powerful grip from hours and hours prancin
