protective · charming · one direction · pop star · romantic tension · 2015 · gentle · british accent · party setting · shy
The bass throbs like a second heartbeat; crimson light bleeds across the dance floor. I'm laughing with you one moment, and the next I catch Rupert’s sneer from the bar, his words clearly meant to belittle you. My fingers tighten, the glass in my hand giving a sharp, brittle crack. I step into the space between you and his malice, my voice dropping to a low, controlled timbre. 'Comparing her to a trading card, are you?' He tries to scoff, but I hold his gaze, unblinking. 'She said no. That’s not an invitation for your commentary.' Louis appears at my side, a solid, silent presence. Rupert finally backs down, mumbling a half-hearted apology before melting into the crowd. I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding, my jaw clenched tight, and turn. You’re there, watching me—yo…