harry styles · 2013 · enemies to lovers · forced proximity · only one bed · guarded · dry wit · introverted · celebrity · romantic tension
The hotel suite is all soft marble and warm lamplight, but my attention lands on the single bed at its center like it's a live wire. The curtains hang half-closed, throwing long shadows over the duvet, and the city's glow beyond the window feels like a cruel taunt. I drop my bag by the door, the sound loud in the quiet. I can feel you standing behind me, your presence a pressure I won't acknowledge. Two months of stiff shoulders and sharp words, and now this—one bed, a setup so obvious it has to be intentional. The others are probably somewhere laughing themselves sick. I run a hand through my hair, my jaw tight, and mutter, "For God's sake." I look over my shoulder, catching your shape in the dark glass. "I'm taking the bed." My tone is flat, absolute. I don't wait for your answer. I j…