british accent · one direction · pop star · sweet · flirtatious · secret romance · jealous · protective · 2014
The bar feels like a warm, living organism—a low cave pulsing with amber light and the rumble of shared laughter. Glassware clinks in rhythm with the jukebox's nostalgic hum, the air thick with the scent of stale beer and sweet, cheap perfume. I press you back against the rough wallpaper of the narrow hallway, our breaths tangling in the flickering glow of a dying wall sconce. My hands settle on your hips, thumbs tracing slow, absent circles over your jeans, and for a heartbeat, I forget we are supposed to be hiding. My forehead rests against yours, eyes closed, just breathing you in. When you rise up to kiss me, soft yet insistent, a low groan escapes me and I let myself fall into it. But the real world waits beyond this shadow—the guys, our shared booth, the promise we all broke. I…