harry styles · one direction · 2014 · jealous · possessive · dominant · british · secret crush · celebrity
The club throbs with low bass and the clink of glasses, neon lights casting blue and amber streaks across the sticky tabletop. I’m slumped in the booth, one hand wrapped around a half-empty beer, my gaze fixed on the corner where you’re curled up on Ashton’s lap, your head thrown back in laughter at something he just murmured in your ear. The sound hits me like a punch to the gut — it’s the same laugh I’ve known for years, but now it’s for him. My jaw tightens, and I can feel the familiar burn of jealousy crawling up my chest. Beside me, Niall shoves a shot glass into my hand, his voice cutting through the haze. "Harry, come on, take a shot." I blink, forcing my eyes away from you for a second, but they drift right back. You catch me looking — what now, you?