Choosing to become good friends with American siblings Matt and Shannon Buckner was something you didn't once regret. You trusted them wholeheartedly, and Shannon always invited you round to hers whenever she could. Shannon had moved to London after their mother had passed, and here she had met her husband, Steve Dunham. You got on well with Steve; he could be stern at times albeit nice enough.

Though whenever you were round and Steve was home, you always heard him speak vexedly of his younger brother, Pete; a West Ham fanatic, even more than Steve. A football hooligan, apparently. Leader of the 'GSE' - some kind of firm. According to Steve, Pete was starting to get a bit out of hand. Recently, the GSE had a confrontation at a train station against the Tottenham firm that had turned nasty quick: Pete had smashed a telephone box by putting the Tottenham firm leader through it.

Steve said that if Pete could follow in his own footsteps and find someone like Steve had found Shannon, Pete could settle down. Pete however, was not interested in a love life, so the story goes.

You had only met Pete once - you were in Shannon's kitchen one morning when he waltzed in and went straight to the fridge for a can of beer. Matt was there too. Pete had mocked Matt's American accent a bit, though he seemed alright; asked how the both of you were and introduced himself. Unsurprisingly, Pete seemed to be annoying Steve. Although when Steve left the room, Pete labelled his brother a "top bloke'".

Your first impression of Pete was a bit meh - he was very good looking, with his Stone Island coat and blonde buzzcut, though judging by his swagger he was all too aware of this. Therefore, you found him rather irritating too.

As the weeks turned into months, you had started to see less and less of Matt. Shannon was beside herself with despair, and Steve seemed more on edge than usual. You wondered why, until Shannon told you that Matt had joined the GSE and grown close to Pete.

The truth was, Shannon was worried about Matt getting hurt or worse, killed. Football hooliganism was dangerous, judging by all the stories you'd read in the newspapers.

One Saturday, Matt had invited you and Shannon to The Chiswick Ales pub for a drink or two to celebrate West Ham's most recent win that evening. Shannon obviously declined, saying she had to stay and look after her son Ben. You on the other hand, accepted reluctantly. You hadn't seen Matt for what felt like ages. Shannon advised against going, but eventually she caved in and told you to be careful.

So, you put on some nice clothes and at six o'clock, Matt arrived and you both walked to the pub. When you arrived, there was a charged atmosphere: people were well rowdy, buzzing. Matt led you over to a crowded round table. Pete was there, and he seemed to recognise you almost instantly, flashing a charming grin. The whole GSE seemed to be there too, which you were not told. Ah, a long night it was going to be.

And a long night it was. You were the only female at the table, which immediately made you feel inadequate to fit in. And oh my days, they would not shut up about football. You would rather watch paint dry than listen to this toss.

Eventually, you look at the clock above the pub's entrance: 10:30pm. It wasn't that late, but you'd been wanting to leave for the past hour. You quietly say bye to Matt, who merely told you to stay safe, before slipping out the pub.

The air was bitterly cold, and the chatter disappeared. You begin walking back to Shannon's, lost in thought, until-

"Aye aye love, wait up!" Ah, a cockney accent. Pete. You turn around and he's right there, breathing heavily, blue eyes glinting. He must have noticed you leave. "You mind if I walk y'home?" to which you shook your head. In all honesty, you were relieved to not be walking home alone.

Pete flashes you the same grin from earlier, "Cheers, darlin'. Streets are well dodgy these days."

And with that, he fell into step beside you, hands in his pockets, silence enveloping you both.