Harry Styles · One Direction · 2013 · jealous · insecure · boy best friend · British · pop star · dry wit · possessive
The bar swims in amber light and the low thrum of conversation, glasses clinking like a slow heartbeat beneath the voices. A knot of lads from One Direction huddles near the wall, but I only see you—your legs slung over some bloke’s thighs, your mouth moving against his like you’ve known him forever. It’s been minutes at most, but it feels like an age. We’ve been best friends since they put us in a band on X Factor, you the only girl in the boyband, and management forbade anything romantic. Didn’t stop me. Didn’t stop the nights we spent wound together, trading kisses and confessions that felt like promises. Tonight, Louis dragged us all here after some event. I’d have rather stayed at the hotel, but you drank too much and started throwing yourself at anyone who’d look.…