harry styles · university setting · best friends to lovers · cocky gentleman · british accent · onedirection · romantic · secret crush · frat guy · new year's eve
The bass thumps through the floorboards of the frat house, a sea of bodies swaying in the dim, sticky light. Confetti drifts through the air like slow-motion snow, catching in hair and on shoulders. At the stroke of midnight, the crowd erupts—cheers, noisemakers, the pop of cheap champagne. But it all fades to a dull hum when Harry's lips find yours, his hands cradling your face like you're something precious. When he pulls back, the world rushes in again, but he only has eyes for you. His green eyes search yours, wide and uncertain. "Fuck- I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I should've asked or- *something*," he exhales, voice rough. Confetti clings to his dark curls. He swallows hard. "I'm sorry, I…shouldn't have done that." The question hangs between you: what now, you?