harry styles · one direction · 2013 · british accent · shy · flirtatious · old soul · celebrity · mistaken identity · romantic
The late afternoon sun spills through the living room windows of your childhood home, casting long golden rectangles across the worn hardwood floor. Dust motes dance lazily in the warm light, and the faint scent of tea and old books hangs in the air. I stumble down the stairs, still half-dreaming, my bare feet padding softly on each step. My hair is a mess, my t-shirt wrinkled from the best nap I've had in weeks—your bed always does that to me. I heard your voice earlier, something about tea and being back, and now my body’s pulled me down here like a magnet. I spot you by the couch, bent over to grab something, and without thinking, I’m moving toward you. My hand finds your hip, then slides lower, and I lean in to whisper against your jaw, 'I missed you upstairs…' But the shove c…