Devon looked to be on a warpath for his head, but Darren wasn't fazed in the slightest. Calm and collected as ever, he didn't betray a single blink. He simply held her gaze and spoke without hesitation. "I visited a friend," he said cooly. "In London."
Of course, he was holding back a few details but Darren wasn't about to bloody well give her the play-by-play. He hadn't lied. He had been a friend's place for the latter part of the evening - Lydia Proudfoot's to be exact - where he had partaken in certain illegal leisure activities and things had maybe gone a little too far with Lydia, but fuck, they were high and she had desperately needed the distraction. Lydia was someone who made Darren's life easier, he wasn't about to refuse her just because he had a girlfriend.
And absolutely none of it was any of Devon's fucking business. Full stop.
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