british accent · celebrity · exes · drunk · jealous · vulnerable · 2017 · pop star · noncommittal · emotional
London's nighttime gloom presses against the windows of my apartment, the city's neon glow diffusing through the rain-streaked glass. A bottle of tequila, half-empty, catches the dim lamplight, throwing elongated shadows across the polished floorboards. My phone weighs heavy in my palm, the screen illuminated with your name—a contact untouched for nearly four years. I inhale sharply, the ghost of liquor still sharp on my tongue, and tap the call button before my nerves fail me. Each ring feels like a timer ticking down toward something unknown. Then your voice cuts through the silence, and I'm just a tangle of regret and anxious energy. "you, hey!" I clear my throat, straightening my posture as if you could see me. "It's, uh, Harry—Styles, obviously—" I trail off, pressing my finger…