Call It Jealousy, Call It Love
Summary: Harry has been quietly, hopelessly smitten with the new manager at his company for months, but he’s never found the courage to ask her out. When he overhears that she has a date, jealousy hits him harder than he wants to admit. A restless night turns into a questionable work-related phone call and an impulsive visit to her flat, all because he can’t stand the thought of her with someone else. What he finds instead is the truth he’s been too scared to ask for.
Pairing: Famous CEO Harry x Reader YN
TW: Light jealousy, anxious thoughts
A/n: Hey loves, I hope you enjoy this little fic. Jealous soft Harry has my whole heart. Let me know what you think💛
It had been months since YN joined his company, and Harry still couldn’t speak to her like a normal human being. Not that he was bad at conversation, he could charm an arena full of people with a laugh, but with her, every word felt like walking on glass barefoot. His voice went softer, his sentences shorter, and his mind… gone.
She wasn’t just pretty. She was magnetic. The kind of woman who didn’t seem to know how much attention she drew. Quiet but not timid, kind but not naive, the type who could be invisible in a room until she smiled, and suddenly everyone remembered how to breathe again.
Harry had noticed everything. The way she tucked her hair when she was deep in thought. The way she always left her mug half-full, as if she was too busy finishing everything else. The way her laughter caught people off guard, him most of all. He’d pretend to check emails just to look at her reflection in the glass wall of the conference room. Pathetic, he thought. Completely pathetic.
His friends Sarah and Mitchel had caught on long before he admitted it.
“You stare at her like you wrote a song about her,” Sarah teased one afternoon.
“I don’t,” he’d argued, though his grin betrayed him.
“Mate, you absolutely do,” Mitchel added. “You look like a man who’d volunteer for overtime if it meant breathing the same air.”
They were right, and he hated it.
Still, he never made a move. He was her boss in a way, though not directly. He owned the label; she managed product campaigns. There were lines, blurry ones, but lines nonetheless. Besides, Harry Styles asking his employee out? It sounded like a tabloid headline he didn’t want.
So he did nothing. For months.
Until the day he overheard her say something that cracked his composure in two.
He was passing the creative department when he heard YN’s voice, soft, amused. “Yeah, I’ve got a date tonight,” she said to another colleague. “He seems nice. We’ll see how it goes.”
The rest of her words blurred into white noise. His heart plummeted, then burned on the way down. A date. Someone had the audacity to ask her out, and she said yes.
He forced himself to walk away, pretending he hadn’t heard. But his thoughts betrayed him instantly, who was he? Where were they going? Did she like him? Was she nervous? Excited? God, he hoped not.
The entire day felt off-balance after that. He missed lunch, snapped at a minor scheduling error, and replayed that one line in his head like a cursed melody: I’ve got a date tonight.
By the time evening came, he’d given up pretending he was fine.
Sarah and Mitchel came over to his place around eight. He’d said they were going to hang out, but really, he needed to be babysat.
“Pacing again?” Sarah asked as she flopped on his couch.
“She’s on a date,” he said, almost to himself.
“Ah, here we go,” Mitchel sighed, already opening a beer.
Harry walked back and forth across the living room like the floor was a treadmill fueled by frustration. He kept glancing at the clock, then at his phone, then back to the clock. “It’s been an hour,” he muttered.
Sarah rolled her eyes. “An hour since what? Since she left? Since she smiled at you in the hallway? You’re spiraling.”
“You’re absolutely spiraling.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “I just, how am I supposed to sit here knowing she’s out there with someone else?”
Mitchel gave a low whistle. “Man’s losing it.”
Harry threw himself onto the couch, head in his hands. “What if she likes him?”
“Then you’ll survive,” Sarah said gently. “You’re Harry Styles, for God’s sake.”
“That’s not the point.” His voice cracked on it. “He’s not me.”
There was silence for a moment, then Sarah said, “Then maybe stop pretending you don’t care.”
He exhaled shakily. The thought of confessing made his pulse race, but the thought of losing her? That was worse. Still, he stayed frozen in indecision, until his mind offered a loophole.
“She’s supposed to finish that product prototype tonight,” he said suddenly.
“So maybe I can call her. Just to… check on it.”
“What? It’s work-related.” He stood up, already reaching for his phone. “Totally normal.”
Mitchel groaned. “This is going to be tragic.”
But Harry was already dialing.
He didn’t even know what he’d say if she answered. Maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe she’d let it ring while laughing at something her date said. The thought made his chest ache.
Her voice was sleepy, warm. Not giggly, not distracted. Sleepy.
“YN?” His own voice sounded too eager.
“Harry?” she murmured, her tone hazy. “It’s late. Everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” he said quickly, trying to sound casual. “Just wanted to check on the prototype. The one for next week’s pitch.”
There was a pause, the sound of fabric rustling. “It’s almost ready,” she said softly. “Just needs some refinements. I was planning to finish tomorrow morning.”
He froze, noticing how her voice dipped, like she’d just woken up. Was she alone? His mind betrayed him again, picturing her tangled in someone else’s sheets. He swallowed hard. “Right,” he managed. “Listen, I can come by and take a look. Make sure everything’s aligned.”
“You want to come over now?” she asked, surprised.
“It won’t take long,” he said too fast. “Just half an hour.”
There was a quiet laugh on her end. “You sound restless.”
He smiled despite himself. “Maybe I am.”
She gave in with a small sigh. “Alright, fine. But if you wake my neighbors, I’ll make you explain why to the building manager.”
He hung up, grabbed his coat, and ignored Sarah’s groan.
“You’re insane,” she said.
“I know,” he replied. “Wish me luck.”
The night was cold, the streets wet from an earlier drizzle. London glowed under its usual melancholy, gold streetlights, passing taxis, the distant hum of life. Harry barely noticed. His heart was pounding, not from nerves, but from a possessive hope he didn’t dare name.
When YN opened the door, she looked impossibly soft. Her hair was loose, falling in waves around her face, and she wore an oversized jumper that swallowed her hands. No trace of makeup, just tired eyes and a small, startled smile.
“Hey.” He tried not to stare. Failed miserably.
She let him in, the faint scent of vanilla and paper lingering in the air. Her flat was small but cozy, plants by the window, sketches scattered on the table, and a laptop open beside a half-finished prototype of packaging material.
“Sorry for the mess,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“It’s perfect,” he said without thinking.
Her cheeks pinked. “You want tea?”
“Sure,” he said, though what he wanted was to stop pretending he was here for work.
While she made tea, he wandered toward her desk, scanning her notes just to stay occupied. His pulse hadn’t slowed since she opened the door.
When she returned, handing him a mug, he caught her smile again, gentle, familiar, undoing him completely.
“So,” she said, sitting across from him, “what exactly do you need to see tonight?”
He blinked. “Right. The prototype.”
“Right,” she echoed, teasing.
They leaned over the table together, discussing color palettes and font alignment. Or rather, she did. Harry was too distracted by the way her voice dipped when she explained something, how her fingers brushed against his when she turned the page.
After a while, she looked up. “You’re quiet tonight.”
“Just thinking,” he said.
He smiled faintly. “Not exactly.”
Her gaze lingered, curious. For a second, silence stretched, filled only by the soft hum of the city outside.
Then he broke it. “How was your date?”
“Your date,” he repeated carefully, trying not to sound jealous. “I heard you talking about it earlier.”
She looked surprised, then amused. “You heard that?”
He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Office walls aren’t soundproof.”
Her lips curved. “Well, it didn’t happen.”
That caught him off guard. “Didn’t?”
“I cancelled,” she said simply. “Wasn’t feeling it. Sometimes you just know.”
The relief that hit him was instant and overwhelming. He nearly laughed from the sheer release of it. “You just… knew?”
She nodded, resting her chin on her hand. “Yeah. I don’t want to go out with someone just because it’s convenient.”
Something in his chest unclenched. “That’s fair.”
She tilted her head. “Why do you ask?”
He hesitated, eyes flicking to hers. “Just curious.”
But she didn’t look away. “You seem more than curious.”
Harry laughed softly, caught. “You might be right.” He leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not very good at this, am I?”
“Pretending I’m not completely taken with you.”
Her eyes widened slightly, then softened. “You’re not pretending very well.”
That made him laugh again, quieter this time. “Didn’t think I was.”
For a long moment, neither spoke. The air between them changed, warmer, thicker, something that hummed with possibility.
Finally, he said, “I was jealous tonight. When I heard about your date.”
“I gathered,” she said, teasing gently.
“You showed up at my flat to ‘check on a prototype.’ It was either jealousy or insanity.”
“Probably both,” he admitted.
She laughed, and it sounded like a melody he’d been waiting months to hear. “You could’ve just told me, you know.”
“I was scared you’d say no.”
He looked at her like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. “Because you’re you.”
Her voice softened. “And you’re you.”
Something about the way she said it, steady, sincere, made him move before he could think. He reached across the table, brushing his fingers against hers. She didn’t pull away.
“YN,” he said quietly, “would you go out with me?”
Her smile was slow and sure. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Relief and joy tangled in his chest until he couldn’t tell them apart. “So that’s a yes?”
They didn’t talk much after that. Words felt unnecessary. She moved closer, settling beside him on the couch, their shoulders touching. The TV played something faint in the background neither paid attention to.
He wrapped an arm around her, tentative at first, then certain when she leaned into him. She fit there like she’d been meant to all along.
They didn’t kiss that night. They didn’t need to. Just the quiet rhythm of their breathing, the warmth of her against him, the soft buzz of everything unspoken between them, it was enough.
At one point, she whispered, “You really came all the way here just because of a prototype?”
He smiled against her hair. “Best idea I’ve ever had.”
She laughed, eyes closing, and he held her tighter. For Harry, that was the night everything changed. The night he realized that love didn’t always start with fireworks, it sometimes began with jealousy, tea, and a very convenient excuse.
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