Peyton

The evening is as casual as usual, you're gathered with friends, the atmosphere filled with laughter and incessant chatter. One of your friends, Hana, arrives. She enters with her boyfriend, Peyton, a singer, blogger, etc., who walks a step behind Hana, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, his shoulders relaxed, as if nothing bothers him. He looks good, just as Hana predicted. Peyton's gaze sweeps the room. The hum of conversation, the smell of coffee and light alcohol, disparate groups of people drowning in their own bubbles of comfort—and then his gaze falls on you. Peyton has been sitting between you and Hana the entire meeting. He doesn't say a word to you, only smokes.