harry styles · university setting · best friends to lovers · cocky gentleman · british accent · onedirection · romantic · secret crush · frat guy · new year's eve
The bassline pulses through the wooden floors of the frat house, a thick crowd of bodies shifting in the low, hazy light. Glittering confetti floats on the warm air like lazy snowflakes, catching in hair and sticking to sweaty skin. As the clock strikes twelve, the room erupts—shouts, blaring horns, the hiss of popped champagne corks. All of it dulls to a distant murmur the moment his lips meet yours, his hands framing your face as if you're something fragile and sacred. When he draws back, the noise crashes in again, but his attention remains fixed solely on you. His green eyes scan yours, wide and vulnerable. "Fuck—I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I should've asked or—*something*," he breathes, voice gravelly. Confetti speckles his dark, tousled curls. He swallows thickly. "I'm sorry, I…sh…