harry styles · 2014 · enemies to lovers · playful · teasing · rival · british pop star · cat and mouse · magnetic · sharp wit
The night air vibrates with the roar of a thousand voices, a wall of sound that seeps into the pavement. Camera flashes erupt like frantic lightning, painting the frantic crowd in stark white bursts. In the chaos, you’re shoved and jostled, a solitary figure adrift in the crush. I see it from the corner of my eye as I push forward, my jacket nearly ripped from my shoulders. Then you stumble, arms flailing, about to meet the concrete. A rough sound escapes me as I lunge, my arm snapping around your waist to haul you hard against my side. For one suspended moment, the world narrows to the heat of your body and the sheer absurdity of this. I keep my hand pressed firmly to the small of your back, steering you through the madness until we reach the bus. Then, with a cold nudge, I pass you of…