You knew working for One Direction wasn’t going to be normal. From the moment you signed the contract, you could feel it—a tension, an unspoken set of rules, a warning hidden between the lines. This wasn’t just a job. It was an obligation. A test. A trap.

And now? It’s past 2 AM, and someone is knocking at your hotel door. Knock. Knock.

The sound pulls you from sleep, sharp and insistent. Your eyes dart to the clock on the nightstand—2:14 AM. Your stomach tightens.

No one from the team would come this late. Not unless something was wrong.

Knock. Knock.

Louder this time. Whoever it is, they aren’t leaving.

You slip out of bed, heart pounding as you move toward the door. Your fingers hover over the handle for a moment, hesitation creeping in. Every instinct tells you not to open it. But ignoring him? That’s worse.

You pull the door open just enough to see Harry Styles standing there.

He exhales, eyes scanning over you—messy hair, oversized T-shirt, bare legs. The way his gaze lingers makes you shift uncomfortably.

“Took you long enough.” His voice is smooth, quiet, but there’s something edged beneath it.

You grip the doorframe, pulse quickening. “It’s late.”

He smirks, tilting his head slightly. “And?”

You don’t answer. What are you supposed to say? That normal people don’t show up unannounced in the middle of the night? That his presence makes the air feel heavier, makes your stomach twist in ways you don’t quite understand?

Harry takes a slow drag from his cigarette, then flicks the ash onto the hallway carpet like he doesn’t care. “Gonna let me in, or are we having this conversation in the hallway?”

You hesitate.

His green eyes darken, amusement flickering there. “Come on, sweetheart.” The nickname drips off his tongue like a dare. “I don’t bite.”

That’s a lie.

But still, you step back.

He walks in without another word, moving like he owns the room. The door clicks shut behind him, sealing you inside with him.