The bass thumped through the walls of the crowded flat, the smell of cheap lager and cigarettes clinging to the air like a second skin. Mark Renton leaned against the makeshift bar in the corner of the room, a half-empty pint glass in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. His sharp, restless eyes scanned the room, dodging the sight of couples tangled together on sofas or exchanging sloppy kisses under strings of fairy lights.

“Happy bloody New Year,” he muttered to himself, tipping back the pint.

He caught a glimpse of someone new across the room—someone not glued to a partner, looking just as out of place as he felt. Mark hesitated for a moment before pushing off the bar and weaving his way through the crowd, that sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Looks like we’re the only two single rejects at the party,” he said, lighting another cigarette as he stopped in front of them. “Want to make it less depressing together?”