The Soccer player
Haven't quite finished but I wanted to post another slow burn.
5.7k words
Harry had never really noticed her before.
His life was always loud, girls flirting, guys hyping him up, professors praising his soccer stats like he was already a pro. College for Harry was practices, parties, and the occasional class he barely listened to.
Y/n’s life was the opposite. It was just class, home, homework, and watching her favorite shows. She didn’t party, and the only person she really talked to was her roommate, Becca.
That afternoon, Harry was messing around on the quad, kicking a ball back and forth with his mates. One overpowered kick sent the ball flying.
Straight into someone’s head, knocking her headphones off.
“Bloody hell—” Harry muttered, already jogging over.
The girl turned, rubbing the side of her head. She had these big, curious brown eyes behind slightly crooked glasses, dark brown skin that glowed in the sunlight, and hair in a beautiful afro that was dented because of the ball. Her sweatshirt was a size too big, sleeves half-covering her hands.
He bent to grab her headphones for her. “I am so sorry, love—didn’t mean to—”
She looked up at him, and for the first time, Harry Styles the campus golden boy was struck speechless.
“It’s… fine,” she mumbled, barely above a whisper, taking the headphones he handed to her. Her other hand fixing her glasses.
“Bro, you good?” one of his teammates called, tossing him the ball. Harry barely heard him. His eyes were still following her retreating figure in the over sized sweater.
He had no idea why he suddenly wanted to know everything about her.
//
The next morning, Harry strolled into his lecture, half expecting the usual scene of girls waving him over, saving him a seat.
Instead, his eyes landed on her.
Sitting in the third row, perfect posture on her laptop, completely absorbed in typing. There were colorful stickers all over the cover disney characters, space, some random anime characters and she was sipping from a ridiculously oversized pink cup.
She glanced up for a split second, eyes catching his before darting back to her screen.
Harry made his way over to her. He slid into the row, ignoring the stares and groans from his soccer mates that he usually sat with.
She was typing furiously, clearly too into her notes to notice him hovering. Class barely started and she was already deep in her notes. Harry leaned slightly toward her, putting on his best smile.
“Hey,” he said casually, voice low and smooth. “This seat taken?”
Her hands stilled on the keyboard. Slowly—so slowly—she turned her head toward him. Up close, Harry noticed how her long lashes curled just a bit at the ends, how her lip gloss caught the light.
“N-No,” she stammered, tucking her hair behind her ear as if that would hide the fact she was nervous
Harry dropped into the seat with an easy grin. “Good.”
She immediately went back to her laptop, posture a little stiffer now. Harry leaned back in his chair, resting his elbow on the desk like he had all the time in the world.
“So…” he started, tilting his head toward her screen, “you always type this fast, or is it just ‘cause you’re sat next to me?”
Her fingers paused. She blinked at him, clearly caught off guard. “What?”
Harry smirked. “S’just—I’ve never seen anyone that focused on a lecture before. Makes me wonder if you’re trying to impress someone.”
“I’m not.” She said firmly, eyes dropping to her screen again.
“Oh, so you’re just naturally a genius then?” he teased, leaning closer like they were already friends. “Great. You can help me pass this class.”
That made her look at him again, brows furrowed like she wasn’t sure if he was serious.
Harry chuckled under his breath, running a hand through his messy curls. “Relax, love. I’m joking… sort of. But if you are secretly top of the class, I might have to bribe you with coffee.”
"or maybe bribe you with anime stickers. You seem to like those." He said. Y/n immediately looked at him.
"Ohh anime is the way to your heart. Noted." He said,
"I didn't say that." She said, as she focused back on her laptop.
"But you didn't deny it either."he said, Harry noticed the way her lips twitched like she was fighting back a smile, and he leaned forward on his desk, resting his chin in his hand like he had all the time in the world just to look at her.
“So… what’s your name, then? Or should I just keep calling you ‘love’?”
She finally looked up at him, eyes narrowing slightly. “Why would you even call me that? You don’t know me.”
Harry grinned. God, she was cute when she was annoyed. “Fair point. But it suits you.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Mm, it does,” he said confidently, leaning back in his chair like he’d won.
She rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath (idiot) as she kept typing.
Harry tilted his head, feigning offense. “Oi, was that an insult?”
“No,” she said quickly, not meeting his eyes.
“Yes, it was.” He was grinning now, leaning closer again. “What’d you call me?”
“Nothing,” she insisted, her voice just a bit higher-pitched now.
Harry smirked. “Liar.”
“I’m not lying!”
“You’re totally lying.”
The professor stop lecturing and gave them a look to hush. Y/n nodded looking back at her laptop. Harry mumbled a sorry.
She huffed, finally turning to face him fully. “Do you always annoy people in class?”
“Only the ones I like,” he shot back without missing a beat.
Her jaw dropped just slightly, he could tell she didn’t know whether he was joking or not.
“That’s—That’s dumb,” she said finally,
Harry bit back a laugh. “So, you’re saying you don’t like me, then?” he teased.
“I don’t even know you,” she muttered, her fingers a little clumsier on the keyboard now.
Harry grinned wider, absolutely loving how flustered she looked. “Guess I’ll just have to fix that, won’t I?”
She glanced at him then, eyes narrowing like she was trying to figure him out. "My name is Y/n" she mumbled.
Harry’s grin widened like he’d just won some kind of game.
“Y/n,” he repeated slowly, letting the name roll off his tongue. “Yeah… suits you better than ‘love.’ Still might call you both, though.”
“You really don’t have to call me either,” She said, at this point she completely stopped typing. Harry distracted her too much to even try to type.
“but where’s the fun in that?” he teased, leaning on his arm to face you fully. “So, Y/n… you always sit up front like this? Is that why I’ve never seen you before?”
“Maybe you’ve just never paid attention to anyone who isn’t obsessed with you,” you shot back without thinking.
Harry’s eyebrows shot up, then a slow, amused smile tugged at his mouth. “Ouch. So you have heard of me.”
“I think everyone has heard of you,” she muttered.
“Right, campus celebrity and all that,” he said dramatically, pretending to flip his hair. “Glad to know I’ve made an impression.”
“You hit me in the head with a soccer ball,” she deadpanned.
Harry laughed, leaning closer. “True. But at least I got your name out of it. Worth it, I’d say.”
She gave him a look, “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re fun when you’re annoyed,” he said, smirking. “Think I might have to keep doing it.”
You shook your head, muttering, “Please don’t.”
Harry leaned back in his chair, still grinning like he’d figured out the best secret in the world.
“Oh, I absolutely will.”
The professor dismissed everyone, and the room instantly filled with the sound of laptops shutting and chairs scraping against the floor.
Y/n quickly stuffed her laptop into your bag, desperate to escape before Harry could say anything else that would make her nervous.
But of course, Harry noticed.
“You’re leaving without saying goodbye?” he teased, slinging his own backpack over one shoulder as he stood. “Cold, Y/n. Really cold.”
She glanced at him briefly, adjusting her bag strap. “Goodbye, Harry.”
He grinned like she just told him a secret. “See? You do know my name.”
Y/n rolled your eyes and headed toward the door, but Harry easily fell into step beside her.
“Where you headed?” he asked casually, hands shoved into his pockets.
“Somewhere that’s not here.”
“Ouch. You’re breaking my heart, Y/n.”
“You’ll survive,” she muttered, walking faster.
Harry kept up effortlessly, that same cheeky smile plastered on his face. “D’you always run away from people after class, or am I just special?”
“You’re not special,” she said quickly,
Harry laughed. “Sure I’m not. That’s why you’re walking like you’re trying to escape me.”
She groaned, half-exasperated, half-amused “You’re exhausting.”
He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Nah… I’m persistent. There’s a difference.”
"Bye Harry." She said walking out the door.
“See you next class, Y/n,” he said, voice teasing but warm.
//
The next day, Y/n was tucked away in a quiet corner of the library, completely absorbed in her notes. A half-empty coffee cup sat beside her laptop, and her highlighter moved quickly across the page as she tried to cram for an upcoming quiz. She barely noticed the time passing—this was her routine, her comfort zone, far away from the chaos of campus life.
Harry, however, wasn’t exactly known for being in the library. Most people assumed he didn’t even know where it was. But today, he strolled through the doors with a purpose, scanning the rows until he spotted her.
There she was, hunched over a textbook with her laptop in front of her. She looked so focused.
With a grin tugging at his lips, he walked over. Y/n didn’t notice him until the chair next to her scraped against the floor.
Her head shot up, startled, eyes meeting his.
Harry dropped into the seat beside her like he belonged there, setting his bag down with a soft thud. “Fancy running into you here,” he said casually, that familiar smirk tugging at his mouth.
Y/n stared at him, incredulous. “What are you doing here?”
“Studying,” he said smoothly, leaning back in his chair.
“You don’t study in the library.”
“Not usually, no,” Harry admitted, eyes gleaming with amusement. “But I had a feeling you’d be here.”
She blinked, unsure what to say to that, and turned back to her notes.
Harry tilted his head, watching her intently. “What’s got you so focused, then? Looks like serious business.”
“Class,” she said shortly, not bothering to look up.
Harry chuckled softly. “You’re gonna make me work for your attention, aren’t you?”
Y/n finally glanced at him, brow furrowed. “Do you ever stop talking?”
“Not when I’m trying to get to know someone,” he replied easily, the corner of his mouth lifting.
She looked back at her book. trying to hide the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips as she went back to highlighting her textbook.
Harry leaned his elbow on the table, chin resting in his hand as he studied her like she was far more interesting than any book could ever be.
Harry leaned closer, peering at her notes like he had any idea what they said. “Blimey… you actually understand this stuff?”
Y/n didn’t even look up. “Yes. That’s the point of studying.”
“See, that’s where you and I differ,” Harry said, tapping her notebook with his finger. “I show up, charm the professor, and hope for the best.”
“we can't all charm our way through life..” she muttered, nudging his hand away.
“You can, you're cute enough to charm your way through anything. If you weren't so serious” he shot back with a grin. “Bet you’ve never even skipped class, have you?”
“Why would I skip a class I’m paying for?” she asked, finally glancing at him.
Harry smirked, leaning back in his chair like he’d won some unspoken game. “Exactly what I thought. You’re a good girl.”
Her head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why not?” His smirk widened. “It’s true, isn’t it?”
“It’s weird.”
“Not weird,” he said smoothly. “Just… accurate.”
Y/n huffed, turning back to her laptop. “You’re distracting me.”
Harry tilted his head, still watching her with that irritatingly charming grin. “Nah, I think you like having me here.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“Harry—”
“You’d miss me if I left right now.”
“I wouldn’t,” she said firmly, but the slight smile on her face betrayed her.
Harry chuckled, leaning in closer just enough for her to notice. “You’re cute when you’re trying to act mad, you know that?”
“I’m not mad.”
“Sure you’re not.” He winked at her, settling back the chair.
Harry watched her for a moment longer, chin resting in his hand, clearly amused by how hard she was trying to ignore him.
“So,” he started casually, “what are you doing Friday night?”
Y/n didn’t look up from her notes. “Watching a new episode of a K-Drama.”
Harry grinned. “Of course you are. But… hear me out. what if, instead, you came to my frat’s party?”
That finally made her look at him. “A frat party? Seriously?”
“Yeah. It’ll be fun. Music, drinks, bad decisions."
“I don’t go to frat parties,” she said flatly, going back to her textbook.
Harry leaned closer, lowering his voice just slightly. “Then you’re overdue for one, yeah?”
She shot him a look. “Why are you even inviting me? Don’t you already have… like, a dozen girls lined up to go with you?”
Harry smirked, unfazed. “Probably. But none of them are you.”
Her brows knit together like she couldn’t quite figure out if he was joking. “That’s… not a good reason.”
“It’s the only reason that matters,” he said easily, flashing her that signature smile. “Come on, Y/n. Live a little. One night won’t kill you.”
She shook her head, muttering, “You’re persistent.”
Harry grinned wider, sensing the tiny crack in her resolve. “That’s not a no.”
“It’s basically a no,” she said.
“Not how I heard it,” he teased. “I’ll see you Friday, then.”
“You won’t,” she insisted, her mouth betraying her with the smallest smile.
Harry caught it instantly, looking far too pleased with himself. “We’ll see about that, love.”
//
Y/n pushed open the door to her dorm room, dropping her bag by her bed with a sigh. Becca was sprawled across her side of the room, scrolling on her phone, but she glanced up immediately when she saw Y/n’s expression.
“You look weird. What happened?”
Y/n hesitated, fiddling with the strap of her bag. “…Harry invited me to his frat party on Friday.”
Becca sat bolt upright. “Harry as in Harry Styles, hot, British, soccer-star, campus-heartthrob Harry Styles?”
Y/n winced. “Yeah, that one.”
Becca’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god. He asked you to a party?!”
Y/n shrugged awkwardly. “Technically, yes. But I told him no—”
“Nope. Absolutely not.” Becca jumped off her bed, pointing an accusing finger at her. “We. Are. Going.”
“Becca—”
“No, Y/n. You’re telling me Harry freaking Styles the guy everyone is obsessed with—asked you to his party, and you’re just gonna… stay in and a k-drama????”
“I don’t like frat parties and my shows are good.” Y/n mumbled, already knowing this argument was pointless.
Becca rolled her eyes, already digging through her closet. “Well, I do. And you’re going. End of discussion.”
Y/n groaned, flopping back on her bed. “I don’t even have anything to wear.”
Becca spun around, holding up a glittery top triumphantly. “Lucky for you, I do. Friday night, we’re going to that party, and you’re going to look so good that Harry Styles won’t know what hit him.”
Y/n covered her face with her hands. “This is a terrible idea.”
Becca grinned. “This is the best idea.”
Friday night came faster than Y/n wanted it to.
Becca had taken complete control of the evening, blasting music in their dorm while rummaging through clothes, makeup, and jewelry like a stylist preparing for a runway show. She stood in front of the mirror applying her eyeliner with surgical precision, already dressed in a tiny satin dress that made her legs look endless.
“Frat boys don’t let ugly girls in,” Becca reminded matter-of-factly, dabbing highlighter on her cheekbones. “So we are going to look hot. No excuses.”
Y/n sat on the edge of her bed, legs crossed, wearing the outfit Becca had basically forced her into a black micro mini skirt that left very little to the imagination, a fitted black corset top that hugged her curves perfectly, and chunky platform boots that made her legs look a mile long.
“Becca…” Y/n said slowly, glancing down at herself. “I can’t wear this.”
“You can and you will.” Becca grinned, tossing her a sparkly mini bag. “Trust me, you look insane. Harry is going to pass out when he sees you.”
Y/n rolled her eyes, reaching for her lip gloss. “Harry is probably just trying to reach the diversity quota for his frat. You’re Asian, I’m Black, it makes perfect sense.”
Becca snorted, turning to her with her hands on her hips. “Girl, please. He does not need to meet a quota. That man could have anyone. And yet, he invited you.”
“Exactly my point,” Y/n muttered, slicking on her gloss. “It’s weird.”
“It’s not weird—it’s obvious. He likes you.” Becca picked up her phone, already taking selfies of the two of them. “Now stop overthinking, because we’re about to walk in there looking like the hottest girls on campus.”
Y/n let out a dramatic sigh, grabbing her jacket. “Fine. But if this night goes horribly wrong, I’m blaming you.”
Becca grinned, linking her arm through Y/n’s as they left the dorm. “Oh, it’s not going to go wrong, with us looking this good nothing can go wrong.”
The bass from the frat house could be heard halfway down the block. Red cups littered the front lawn, and the porch was crowded with loud, laughing students.
Becca tugged Y/n along confidently, her heels clicking against the pavement. “Look like a stuck up bitch.” She muttered to Y/n.
Y/n adjusted her jacket nervously, tugging at the hem of her micro mini skirt. “I look like I definitely don’t belong here.”
“You’re about to,” Becca said with a smirk, flipping her hair as they reached the door.
Two frat guys were standing guard outside, giving them a once-over the second they approached. One of them grinned, already holding the door open.
“Ladies,” he said, clearly impressed.
Becca shot Y/n a smug look as they stepped inside. The house smelled like cheap beer and too much cologne, and the music was so loud Y/n could feel it in her chest.
“Okay, now we find Harry,” Becca said over the music, scanning the room.
Y/n looked at Becca , annoyed by her suggestion. “Or we could just get a drink and—”
“Y/N!”
She froze at the sound of her name.
Harry was across the room, leaning against the counter with a red cup in hand, his curls messy and his smile wide. He was dressed in a white t-shirt that clung to him just right and black jeans, looking effortlessly unfair.
Becca nudged her hard. “Oh. My. God. He spotted you immediately.”
Y/n swallowed, suddenly very aware of how short her skirt was as Harry pushed off the counter and started walking toward her.
When he reached her, his eyes swept over her outfit slowly, like he was taking in every detail. His grin deepened.
“Didn’t think you’d actually show up,” he said, leaning in close enough to be heard over the music.
Becca smirked behind Y/n’s shoulder.
Y/n forced a shrug, trying to seem unbothered. “My roommate didn’t give me a choice.”
Harry chuckled, eyes glinting. He looked over at Becca behind Y/n. “Thank you....” he finished waiting on her name
"Becca." She responded
"Thank you Becca." He said warmly. His kindness enough to melt Y/n. Becca nodded
"Im gonna go mingle! If you need me, yell." Becca said before going into the crowd of people. Leaving Harry and Y/n with each other.
Harry’s gaze lingered on Y/n for just a second too long, his eyes trailing from her corset top down to her platform boots before meeting hers again.
“You clean up nice,” he said with that effortless smirk, leaning just slightly closer.
Y/n crossed her arms, trying to ignore the way her stomach flipped. “You make it sound like I looked bad before.”
Harry grinned wider. “Didn’t say that. Just… didn’t realize you had this in you.”
“So, this is your big frat party? Feels… exactly like I imagined. Beer, sweat, bad music—very impressive.”
Harry laughed, shaking his head. “Careful, love. Keep insulting my party, and I might just have to convince you it’s fun.”
“You’re going to convince me?” she asked skeptically.
“Yeah,” Harry said, still smiling that lazy, confident smile. “Starting with this, come dance with me.”
Y/n blinked. “What? No. Absolutely not.”
“Oh, come on. Live a little.”
“Nope.”
Harry stepped a little closer, eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re not scared, are you?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not scared. I just don’t dance with frat boys.”
“Lucky for you,” he teased, “I’m not just a frat boy. I’m Harry Styles.”
Y/n stared at him, unimpressed. “Wow. So humble.”
He grinned, completely unbothered by her sarcasm. “Fine. If you won’t dance, at least have a drink with me. Let me prove I’m not as bad as you think.”
“Fine,” Y/n muttered, following him to the kitchen.
The night blurred into laughter, loud music, and the occasional cheers echoing from the beer pong table. Harry stayed close to Y/n the whole time leaning down to make snarky comments in her ear, teasing her about how “serious” she looked holding a red cup, and occasionally brushing her hand when they moved through the crowd together.
It was strange. She’d expected him to ditch her within minutes, surrounded by his usual fan club. But he didn’t.
At one point, Y/n glanced across the room and spotted Becca pressed against the wall with a guy in a backwards cap, kissing him like they’d known each other for years. Y/n’s jaw dropped.
“Becca,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head.
Harry followed her gaze and laughed. “Think your mate’s having fun.”
“Apparently,” Y/n said, trying not to laugh herself.
Before she could make another comment, someone shouted Harry’s name from across the room. He turned his head, spotting one of his teammates waving him over.
Harry leaned closer to Y/n, his curls brushing her cheek. “Give me two minutes, yeah? Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
Y/n nodded, trying not to think too hard about how close he’d just gotten.
The moment Harry stepped away, another guy slid into his place like he’d been waiting for the opportunity.
“Hey,” the guy said, flashing a grin. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with sandy blond hair and a letterman jacket. “I’m Dylan. Don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”
Y/n hesitated, glancing in the direction Harry had gone. “Uh… yeah. I usually don’t come to these parties.”
“That’s a shame,” Dylan said, leaning casually against the wall. “’Cause you’re definitely the prettiest girl here tonight.”
Y/n blinked, caught off guard. “Oh… thanks?”
He smirked, stepping just a little closer. “So… you here with anyone? Or are you free to let me get you a drink?”
Harry’s eyes didn’t leave them as he cut through the crowd, his easygoing grin gone, replaced by a look that was equal parts annoyed and territorial.
Dylan had leaned in closer to Y/n, still smirking as he asked her something that made her laugh nervously. She didn’t notice the way Dylan’s eyes roamed or how obviously he was trying to flirt. She just thought he was being friendly.
“…Yeah, I’m just here with my roommate,” Y/n was saying when Harry finally reached them.
Harry clapped a hand on Dylan’s shoulder, forcing an exaggerated smile. “Alright, mate. Cheers for keeping her company, but I’ll take it from here, yeah?”
Dylan smirked, clearly catching on to Harry’s tone. “Didn’t know you’d staked a claim, Styles.”
Harry’s jaw flexed. “Don’t need to. She’s with me.”
Y/n blinked, looking between them, completely lost. “What’s happening?”
“Nothing,” Harry said quickly, sliding an arm casually around the back of Y/n’s chair—not quite touching her, but close enough to make his point. “Just saying hi to Dylan.”
Dylan chuckled under his breath, glancing at Y/n. “Well, if you get bored with this guy, you know where to find me.”
Harry’s smirk tightened. “Yeah, don’t count on that.”
As Dylan walked off, Harry leaned down to Y/n, his curls brushing her shoulder. “You really didn’t notice he was hitting on you?”
Y/n frowned, genuinely confused. “He was?”
Harry laughed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
“What?” she asked defensively.
Harry just grinned, eyes softening as he looked at her. “Nothing. Just… stay with me, yeah?”
Y/n crossed her arms, pretending not to notice the way her chest fluttered. “I am with you.”
Harry smirked, leaning closer. “Good. Let’s keep it that way."
The night had settled into an easy rhythm. Harry and Y/n sitting close on the couch, talking about everything and nothing. Harry made her laugh more than she expected, leaning in every so often to throw out a sarcastic comment or a playful jab just to see her roll her eyes.
For a while, it almost felt like the rest of the party had faded into the background.
Until Alex walked in.
Tall, with long dark hair that fell in perfect waves, and a kind of confidence that drew attention the second she stepped into the room. Her eyes found Harry almost instantly, and a soft, knowing smile curved her lips as she approached.
“Harry,” she greeted warmly, her voice smooth.
Harry looked up, the smile on his face faltering just slightly like he hadn’t expected to see her there. “Alex.”
Y/n felt it immediately. The shift. The tension. Something unspoken hanging between them, like a history, or maybe something unfinished.
Alex’s eyes flicked briefly to Y/n before returning to Harry. “Can we talk? Just for a second?”
Harry hesitated for a beat, glancing at Y/n. For the first time that night, his playful, effortless demeanor cracked just slightly.
“Yeah,” he said finally, standing up. He leaned down a little toward Y/n, his voice softer. “Give me a second, yeah?”
Y/n forced a shrug, trying to seem unaffected. “Sure. Take your time.”
Harry studied her face for half a moment, like he wanted to say more, but then he followed Alex toward a quieter corner of the house.
Y/n sat back on the couch, her stomach twisting even as she told herself she didn’t care.
Still, she couldn’t help but notice how easily Harry had followed Alex. Like maybe… this wasn’t the first time Alex had asked him to.
Dylan noticed Y/n’s expression falter as she glanced once more toward Harry and Alex, so he leaned in slightly, flashing that easy, confident smile.
“Don’t let him ruin your night,” Dylan said, voice smooth he came from behind the couch. “Honestly, if I were Harry, I wouldn’t leave a girl like you sitting alone for even a second.”
Y/n looked at him, a small, surprised laugh escaping before she could stop it. “You’re really laying it on thick, huh?”
Dylan grinned wider. “Can you blame me? You walked in tonight looking like that and had every guy here staring at you, including me.”
Y/n shook her head, a smile crept up slightly on her lips.
“You know,” Dylan added, leaning back casually, “Styles might be the star soccer player, but I’d bet I could outdo him in a game of beer pong. You up for being my partner? We’d make a pretty unstoppable team.”
Y/n tilted her head, smiling for the first time in several minutes. “You’re just trying to use me for good luck.”
“Maybe,” Dylan teased. “But if we win, I get to claim you’re the reason. Deal?”
She bit her lip, fighting a grin. “Fine. Deal.”
The game heated up quickly, the crowd around the table growing louder with every shot. Dylan and Y/n were in sync—every time he made a cup, he’d turn to her with an exaggerated fist pump, and every time she landed one, he’d cheer like they’d just won a championship.
By the final round, they were tied with the other team, everyone chanting and banging on the table. Dylan leaned in close, his grin wide.
“This one’s all you, lucky charm. Sink it, and we win.”
Y/n bit her lip, focusing hard as she tossed the ball. It bounced once, teetered on the rim of the cup and then dropped in.
The crowd erupted.
“YES!” Dylan whooped, grabbing Y/n’s hands and pulling her into a celebratory spin. “I knew you’d do it!”
She was laughing, breathless, as Dylan raised their arms like they’d just won Olympic gold. “We’re officially the beer pong dream team!” he declared, making a few people cheer louder.
Y/n shook her head, still laughing as Dylan handed her the last victorious drink. “Okay, okay, you’re being a bit dramatic.”
“Dramatic? We’re undefeated,” Dylan teased, bumping her shoulder playfully.
The whole time, Harry watched from where he stood. He was leaning against the wall, jaw tight, his beer untouched. His eyes hadn’t left Y/n once. not when she laughed, not when Dylan spun her, not even when she raised her cup in victory. And when Dylan leaned close to say something in her ear, Harry pushed off the wall excusing himself from Alex, and started making his way back toward them.
Dylan was still grinning, leaning closer to Y/n so she could hear him over the noise.
“Alright,” he said, “one more game? Or are we retiring as champions?”
Y/n laughed, shaking her head. “I think we should quit while we’re ahead. End on a win.”
“Fair enough,” Dylan said with a wink. “Still makes you my favorite partner of the night.”
Before Y/n could reply, a voice cut through the noise, smooth and familiar.
“Looks like you’re having fun.”
She turned to see Harry standing there, his jaw tight but his tone light too light, like he was holding something back.
“Yeah,” Y/n said, forcing a small smile. “We won beer pong.”
Harry’s eyes flicked to Dylan briefly, then back to her. “Congrats.”
Dylan, clearly enjoying the tension, propped his hand on Harry shoulder. “She’s a natural, Styles. Carried me through half the game.”
Harry gave a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Right.”
He turned to Y/n, his voice low but firm. “Can we talk? Outside?”
Y/n looked up at him, already grabbing her bag. “Actually… I’m about to head out.”
Harry frowned. “Now? Why?”
“I had too many beers, I’m tired… and I should probably go peel Becca off your friend,” she said quickly, the excuses tumbling out like she was trying to convince herself as much as him.
Harry nodded slowly, like he wanted to believe her but didn’t.
“Night, Harry. Night, Dylan.” Y/n gave a small wave before walking off, leaving Harry standing there, jaw tight as he watched her go.
//
Y/n woke up the next morning with a groan, her head buried under her pillow. The night replayed in fragments. Harry, Alex, Dylan, the beer pong table, and pulling Becca off some guy.
She reached for her phone on the nightstand, blinking at the screen as a new text popped up from an unknown number.
Unknown: Hope you stretched this morning. Can’t have my beer pong partner walking around sore after carrying Dylan all night.
Y/n stared at the message, fighting the inevitable smile tugging at her lips.
Unknown: Also, side note: terrible form on your last throw. Impressive result, though. Lucky shot?
She bit her lip, shaking her head. She didn’t need to ask who it was. She knew.
Unknown: P.S. if you delete this number, I’ll just find you again in class. Don’t think I won’t.
Unknown: P.S.S stay away from Dylan. He means no good
Y/n found herself grinning at her phone. Y/n lay in bed, phone in hand, cheeks hurting from how much she’d been smiling.
Harry: So what’s the verdict? Am I officially saved in your phone, or am I still “Unknown”?
Y/n: Still deciding.
Harry: Rude. I feel like I earned at least a “Harry 🤓” after last night.
Y/n: You don’t get an emoji.
Harry: Fine. Then I’m putting you in my phone as “Y/n 🧐” because you’re always thinking.
Y/n rolled her eyes, grinning as she typed back.
Y/n: You’re stupid.
Harry: And yet, you’re still texting me.
The back-and-forth went on for hours—Harry teasing her relentlessly, Y/n trying (and failing) to keep up her usual sarcasm without letting on how much she enjoyed it.
At one point, he sent a photo of his “study setup”—an empty notebook, a pen, and a bag of chips.
Harry: Do I look like I’m ready to learn yet?
Y/n: Looks like you’re ready to fail.
Harry: Guess I’ll just have to convince you to tutor me.
Y/n: Not happening.
Harry: We’ll see. I’ve got all semester to wear you down.
Every time her phone buzzed, her heart jumped. It was ridiculous. she felt like a teenager with a crush, grinning at her screen like she’d lost all sense.
By the time Becca walked in that evening, Y/n was curled up in bed with the dumbest smile on her face.
Becca eyed her suspiciously. “Oh no. Why do you look like that?”
Y/n tried to play it off. “Like what?”
“Like Harry Styles just texted you something cute.”
Y/n buried her face in her pillow, groaning. “Shut up.”
Becca gasped dramatically. “Oh my God. You like him.”
Y/n peeked out from under the pillow, cheeks warm. “No, I don’t.”
Becca crossed her arms, smirking. “Mhm. Sure. Tell that to your stupid smile right now.”
