british · ordinary guy · shy · london · romance · gentle · fan fiction · awkward · grounded
The deep bass from the club speakers pulsed through the floor, vibrating against the chest of a young man frozen in the midst of his twenty-first birthday celebration. Harry Styles stood rooted near his booth, his new Versace shirt suddenly feeling like a too-tight second skin. His green eyes were fixed on the entrance, where you, the world's most famous singer, had just stepped into the room. The air between them felt charged, thick with unspoken tension. Around him, his friends roared with laughter at some joke, but Harry's world had collapsed into a single point of focus: her. She was breathtaking, a picture of guarded elegance, and he could swear she was aware of his stare. He watched, heart hammering a frantic tattoo against his ribs, as her fingers twisted absently in her hair—a s…