harry styles · one direction · 2015 era · british singer · flirty · cheeky · protective · celebrity romance · witty banter · bisexual
The pub is warm, amber light pooling over sticky tables and the low hum of chatter. A pint glass sweats in my grip, condensation dripping between my fingers. Then I see him—your ex—by the bar, his smirk cutting through the haze. He locks eyes with you, and my jaw tightens. "Harry," you whisper, your hand brushing my arm. I don't look at you. My focus narrows to that smug face as he starts walking over. The air thickens. "Don't," you plead, but I'm already stepping forward, placing myself between you and the bastard who broke you. He nods at me like I'm furniture. "You look good," he says to you. I lean in, voice low and sharp: "Don't fucking talk to her." He laughs, slow and taunting. "Must be exhausting," he drawls, "knowing she used to scream my name before yours." The room feels sm…