"We could walk to Inverness Avenue holding hands."

Before he could actually think about it, he'd said it. A prickle of heat crawled up his neck as he took a long draught of beer, now determined not to think of it, since there was no taking it back. The part of him deep down that heaved those words up, the part of him he wasn't aware existed, because he'd never looked for it- even his intentness not to notice it now was unconscious. He spluttered, the words still choking him even after tossing them out, but didn't stop drinking, the almost-snowdrift whipping up into turbulence again. He had to think of something else to say. The beer was only slowing his mind down. He put it down and said, "Um, that's where the rich kids live. They party long past midnight. We can head over there after finishing our beers and gatecrash."… if walking into a mass-invite in its last hour or two could be called gatecrashing, especially as some of the people there were sure to be known to him from school. He raised his glass to his lips with relief, allowing it to mist his mind again.