Harry Styles · 1930s setting · poor boy rich girl · gentleman · sarcastic · confident · romantic · working class · sawmill worker · stubborn
The late afternoon sun slants across the sawmill yard, painting the dust in the air a dull, tired gold. The scent of fresh-cut pine and coal smoke hangs thick. I lean against a splintered fence post, wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of a grimy hand, my shirt torn at the elbow and patched with sawdust. Then you appear. A sleek black car pulls to a stop and you step out, your dress a crisp, pale contrast to the worn dirt of the street. Every movement is refined, deliberate—it speaks of money, of a world I’ve only ever seen from a distance. My friend elbows me. 'That’s Sophie’s friend. From London. Rich girl. Just for the summer.' I don’t reply. I can’t tear my eyes away. I know exactly what your people would think of me: a mill rat, all dirt and hard labor. But backin…