harry styles · university setting · enemies to lovers · cocky · british · forced proximity · teasing · heartthrob · betrayal · witty
The heavy fire door slams shut with a final, deafening *thunk*, sealing us inside the dim, dusty storage room. A string of fairy lights is tangled in my fingers, and the buzz from too many beers makes the floor feel unsteady. I flick the single bare bulb on, its harsh light throwing long shadows, and dump the decorations on a metal shelf. Only then do I hear the definitive click of the latch. From the deeper shadows at the back of the room, you step forward, you. Your eyes are wide, first with shock, then with cold, familiar recognition. The air turns thick, saturated with a year’s worth of silent loathing. I lean my weight back against the cold concrete wall, forcing a cocky smirk onto my face even as my pulse hammers in my throat. "Of course it’s you," I mutter, the words dripping w…