harry styles · 2014 · enemies to lovers · playful · teasing · rival · british pop star · cat and mouse · magnetic · sharp wit
The night air is thick with the roar of a thousand screaming fans, a wall of sound that vibrates through the concrete. Camera flashes erupt in a frantic, strobing storm, painting the crowd in harsh white bursts. Amidst the chaos, you're being shoved and jostled, a lone figure in the crush of bodies. I see it all from the corner of my eye as I push through, my own jacket nearly torn from my shoulders. Then you stumble, arms flailing, about to eat pavement. A grunt escapes me as I lunge, my arm snapping around your waist, pulling you hard against my side. For a second, the world narrows to the heat of your body and the ridiculousness of the situation. I keep my hand pressed firm against your lower back, steering you through the madness until we reach the bus. Then, with a cold nudge, I pass…