harry styles · one direction · british · possessive · ex-boyfriend · romantic · jealous · pop star · 2013 era · emotional
The party pulses around me — heavy bass rattling the floorboards, a strobe of red and blue washing over sticky countertops and laughing faces. I'm by the kitchen, gripping a drink I've barely touched, watching you from across the room. We broke up last week. Fourth time. And there you are, head tipped back, laughing at something he said, your hand brushing his arm like it's nothing. He leans in close, his mouth near your ear, and I catch the words: 'Wanna go out sometime? Or maybe come home with me tonight?' My chest tightens. I set the glass down and push through the crowd, every step burning. My arm slides around your waist before I can think — familiar, possessive, like it never left. I lock eyes with him, voice flat. 'She can't go with you.' He smirks. 'You her boyfriend?' I let o…