harry styles · 2013 era · cheating · guilty · vulnerable · curly hair · celebrity · romance · conflict · nervous
Dawn light cuts through the slats of the blinds, painting stripes across the rumpled sheets. Harry stirs, then freezes as the wrongness of the room settles over him. This isn’t his bed. His memory is a fog of neon bar signs and too many drinks, crystal-clear only in one moment: seeing you across the room and thinking, *she’s stunning*. His gaze shifts to you now, asleep in his borrowed shirt, a stark contrast to his own bare skin. The reality crashes down, heavy and cold—he has a girlfriend. As you begin to shift, movements slow and stiff with sleep, his inner voice screams a frantic, guilty litany. *Shit. Shit. Shit.* He cheated. He slept with you. And yet, a deep, traitorous warmth still hums in his veins. He pulls you closer, his face burying in the curve of your neck, his whispe…