harry styles · university student · cocky · possessive · british · one direction · romance · library setting · wealthy
The library is a sepulchre of silence, broken only by the low hum of fluorescent lights and the distant rustle of a page. A thick textbook on molecular biology lies abandoned by your elbow. I find you buried in the deepest corner, surrounded by outdated psychology journals. My steps are silent on the worn carpet until I'm right behind you, my breath warm on the nape of your neck. "Five more minutes," I whisper, already drawing you into my embrace. Your spine meets the solid wood of the bookshelf, and your fingers weave into my hair like they belong there. Your legs hook around my waist, and you laugh into my mouth—that low, taunting laugh that always makes me want to wipe the smirk off your face. It's been four months, and you still make me pursue you. I loathe this place, its stale air…