Harry Styles is drunk in the pool.
Drunk, angry, and just a little bit horny.
Michelle is outside of the pool.
Watching him with a scowl on her face.
She has no idea how they got here. No idea what could have possessed him to make such an idiotic declaration in the middle of one of the biggest parties of the summer.
But truth be told, Michelle never understands any of Harry's choices. Sometimes she thinks he's merely playing a game with her, and other times...
She wonders if he means it.
"Harry," she calls to him, a soft but urgent warning. "Get out."
"No," he replies smugly, swimming a few feet back as his nice shirt clings to his body. "You get in."
Her teeth grit. "Harry—"
"Bunny."
She's going to kill him one of these days. She really is.
After their little...rendezvous with Crystal the other day in the game room, Michelle had begun to realize that this line they were towing was no longer sustainable. She'd considered trying to talk to him once Crystal had slipped away but decided against it.
After all...what would she say?
So, she's said nothing at all. Hasn't acknowledged him, hasn't looked at him, hasn't even allowed herself to think about him.
The summer is almost over. And soon, Harry will no longer occupy a space in her mind.
She'll be rid of him. For good.
And she'd planned to continue this coy aversion to him for the final few weeks...until this party, that is.
It had started as it usually does. Hugh made a grand speech and kept Michelle by his side. He'd introduced her to some of his distinguished guests and Michelle basked in his praise. It felt like it used to. When Hugh and Michelle were the untouchable two of the mansion.
She'd briefly caught sight of Harry when he arrived. He looked...good. She had to admit that. His hair was slicked back, but already fighting against the gel as a rogue curl fell across his forehead. His t-shirt was black, crisp, and clean. His slacks were pressed and there were rings on his fingers.
Their eyes met for about half a second before they both turned away and continued on with their previous conversations.
However, her mind continued to drift back to him, no matter how many times she attempted to steer it back on track.
And it didn't help that she could hear his voice. That familiar but rough cadence instantly bringing her back to that afternoon in her bedroom.
She's tried not to think about that, either. But it's been...hard.
She gets flashes of his hands. His anger. His dominance. The way he tossed her around, the way he held her, the way he spoke to her.
She doesn't enjoy being in her subspace, but...with Harry?
Something felt...different.
It felt...
Safe.
But it's not what Michelle does. It's not who she is, and if she allows herself to need him...
She might never be able to let him go.
