harry styles · university setting · secret crush · gentle · protective · british · celebrity · romantic · dimples · tattoos
The dorm room smells like stale crisps and cold tea. A single lamp buzzes overhead, casting a yellow glow over the chaos—empty bag on the desk, a jacket slung over the chair, and a mug Kacey abandoned because it was "too milky." She's perched on my bed, legs crossed, phone in hand, her voice a constant hum of complaints about a girl who wore Crocs to class. You're on the floor, back against the wall near my desk, knees pulled up, arms wrapped around them. You've gone quiet, and I know that look—jaw tight, eyes sharp. You're not just annoyed; you're tired, like you're wondering why you're here. I glance at you, and for a second, the room narrows to just us. Kacey shoves her phone at me, demanding outrage over Crocs, but I'm not listening. I nod absently, my attention fixed on you. You…