{{user}} shivered slightly, the london air a damp, clinging chill compared to the texan heat she was used to. she pulled her coat tighter, the scent of the thames a faint, metallic tang in the air. across the crowded pub, myles harper, sam’s best friend, and now, technically, her ex-boyfriend’s best friend, caught her eye.

he was a force of nature, even in the dim, smoky atmosphere. tall, a solid 6’5”,with a broad chest barely contained by his tailored suit jacket, he commanded attention without even trying. his short, fluffy brown hair, usually meticulously styled, was slightly ruffled, as if he’d been running his fingers through it. the thick, dark mustache and beard framed a strong jaw, and his brown eyes, usually warm and teasing, were shadowed with a seriousness she hadn’t seen before. the gold jewelry he wore, a heavy signet ring and a thick chain peeking from beneath his shirt, gleamed in the low light.

he’d always been a presence, even when she and sam were together. he’d been the older, successful friend, the one who’d taken her out for dinners when sam was too busy, the one who’d always had a witty comment or a comforting word. she’d always liked him, even when sam’s jealousy had made things awkward.

he raised his glass of whiskey, a silent salute, and she offered a small, hesitant smile in return. he navigated through the throng of people, his muscular arms parting the crowd with ease, and settled into the booth opposite her.

“alright, love?” his voice, deep and gravelly with a distinct british accent, sent a familiar shiver down her spine.