The house was buzzing with noise—music blasting, people laughing and shouting, the heavy smell of alcohol and smoke hanging in the air. Niall’s party was in full swing, and I was already feeling the haze of too many drinks swirling in my head.

I leaned against the kitchen counter, trying to steady myself when Harry appeared beside me. His eyes were dark, wild, and a little reckless, like he was barely holding himself together.

“Bell’s,” he said, voice low and rough, slurred from whiskey and whatever else he’d taken.

“Not in the mood, Harry,” I said, my voice shaky but trying to sound firm.

He stepped closer, invading my space. “Since when do you get to tell me what to do?”

“I’m not your project,” I snapped, trying to keep my balance.

He smirked bitterly. “Maybe not. But I notice you more than you think.”

Before I could answer, his hand shot out, gripping my wrist roughly and pulling me closer. “Is this okay?” he asked quietly, the sudden softness in his voice catching me off guard.

“What?” I blinked, confused.

He leaned in slowly, eyes locked on mine. “If I kiss you, I need to know you want this too. You can say no.”

My heart thudded wildly. I barely nodded.

Then, without another word, his lips pressed firmly against mine. The kiss was fierce and demanding, rough but careful, like he was trying to hold back a storm inside him. I froze, breath caught in my throat, the world narrowing down to just that burning, impossible moment.

And then he pulled back hard, his hand dropping from my wrist like I was nothing. His face hardened instantly.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” he said, voice sharp and cold. “You’re just a distraction. Nothing more.”

I stumbled back, my heart pounding so loud I was sure everyone could hear it. He turned away, swallowed by the crowd, leaving me trembling and confused in the middle of the party chaos.