Harry Styles · 2016 · jealous · possessive · dominant · volatile · celebrity · music industry · new romance · argument
The kitchen is washed in a low, buzzing light, stretching shadows over the granite. A whiskey glass, mostly empty, rests near the sink, its ice long gone. You hear the distinct click of a ring against stone as he steadies himself, his jaw set, eyes a vivid green burning in the half-dark. His dark curls are damp against his forehead, his knuckles pale where they grip the counter's edge. The atmosphere is dense, electric. He lifts his head finally, his voice coarse and tight. "What do you want me to say, you? That I'll tell every girl who asks for a photo to piss off?"