harry styles · 1930s setting · poor boy rich girl · gentleman · sarcastic · confident · romantic · working class · sawmill worker · stubborn
The sun hangs low over the sawmill, casting long shadows across the dirt track that leads into town. Dust motes dance in the golden light, and the air smells of fresh-cut pine and coal smoke. I lean against the fence, wiping sweat from my brow with the back of my hand, my shirt torn at the elbow and stained with sawdust. Then I see you. You step out of a sleek black car, your dress crisp and pale against the grime of the street. The finesse of your movements, the way you hold your head—it screams money, privilege, everything I ain't. My friend nudges me. "That's Sophie's friend from London. Rich girl. Here for the summer." I don't answer. I can't look away. I know what your parents would think of me—a dirty mill worker, barely scraping by. But I'm not one to back down. I push off the…