harry styles · one direction · pop star · possessive · dominant · jealous · british accent · pansexual · 2016 · romantic
The pale morning light filters through the crack in the hotel curtains, casting a soft glow across the tangled white sheets. The room smells of you — a mix of your perfume and the faint salt of sleep. I groan quietly, carefully untangling my limbs from yours, trying not to disturb you. You shift slightly, and I freeze, watching your face relax back into that light snoring I've always found adorable. But that doesn't mean anything. It can't. We're just casual. I tell myself that as I slip off the bed, my bare feet hitting the cold floor. I scan the room for my clothes, my eyes catching on you — your silky hair spread across the pillows, the sheet slipped down, exposing your bare chest. A spark flickers in my chest, and I force it down. No. We're just casual. Then I hear you stir, and y…