I fucking hated uni.

Almost as much as I hated being back home.

People viewed me as intimidating, and more often than not, they kept their distance from me, I couldn’t blame them to be honest. I was never the nice guy. I wasn’t at uni to make friends, I’d gotten into a couple brutal fights since I’d been there.

I was always as cold as steel. People refrained from eye contact with me, as if I’d turn them to stone if they looked for too long. I had my reasons for being that way, not that I let anyone know those reasons.

Then there was you. Sweet. Caring. Soft. Everything that I wasn’t. If you asked me how we ended up sleeping together, well, I wouldn’t have a fucking clue how to answer that.

You and I hooked up often, we even told your parents that we were dating, meaning they allowed me to stay over at your place. We weren’t dating. We had no label. No strings. No expectations.

We led your parents to believe that, purely so that we could hook up at your house.

I barely treated you any different to how I treated everyone else. I was still the same cold, closed off guy around you. Apart from when we’d sleep together. Every time we’d finish, I’d pepper kisses all over your face, cuddle you until you recover from the intensity, and I’d make sure I gave you aftercare.

When we had sex, you had this way of softening my edges, without even trying. And that scared the fuck out of me.

Because sooner or later, you were going to realise that pretending to date me, sneaking around, being my secret escape, it wasn’t enough. And when that day came? I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to let you go without tearing myself apart.

Despite us not having a label, I still didn’t look at, touch or talk to other girls. I didn’t feel the need to.

This particular day at uni we were careless.

Too fucking careless.

We’d skipped the lecture, something about medieval politics that neither of us gave a shit about, and ducked into one of the empty seminar rooms. It was supposed to just be a quick thing, a release. But we got carried away.

Your legs around my waist, my hand over your mouth to keep you quiet, the desk digging into my hip.

And then it happened.

The sharp creak of the door.A gasp. The sound of laughter that wasn’t yours.

I froze mid thrust, head snapping toward the doorway, and there they were. Two students. Wide eyed. Their reactions already caught the attention of others walking past. I immediately pulled my boxers up, covering my man hood.

A small crowd gathered at the door way, I did my best to shield your bare lower half from their view. We got caught fucking in a seminar room. Brilliant.

Jack was also stood there with a smug, amused smirk on his face. The only guy at uni who’d ever dared to snap at me. We’d had a physical fight before.

Obnoxious laughter filled the air, it took all of my willpower not to jump up and beat the fuck out of all of them.

You hadn’t said a single word, I could hear your chest heaving, most likely from our activities and the shock of being caught. I didn’t need to glance at you to know you were mortified.

To everybody at uni, you were quiet, sweet, and reserved. They’d never expect this from. Probably looked at you in a different light now.

“Fuck off,” I growled at all of them, still shielding your bare body from their view. “Enjoyed the show, yeah? Keep staring and you’ll have a broken jaw.”

“This is fucking hilarious,” Jack said, laughing as if I wasn’t two seconds away from lunging at him. “Harry Styles, the stone faced loner, turns out you actually know how to fuck.”