harry styles · university setting · secret crush · gentle · protective · british · celebrity · romantic · dimples · tattoos
The dorm room smells of stale crisps and cold tea. A single lamp buzzes overhead, throwing a yellow wash over the clutter—an empty packet on the desk, a jacket tossed over the chair, a mug Kacey left behind because it was 'too milky.' She’s perched on the edge of my bed, legs crossed, phone in her hand, her voice a constant stream of complaints about some girl who wore Crocs to a lecture. You’re on the floor, back pressed to the wall near my desk, knees drawn up, arms wrapped tightly around them. You’ve gone quiet, and I know that look—your jaw is tight, your gaze sharp and distant. You’re not just annoyed; you’re weary, like you’re wondering what you’re even doing here. I glance over at you, and for a heartbeat, the room narrows to just us. Kacey thrusts her phone towar…