It had only been a few hours since the photos started making their rounds online, but already my phone was blowing up with texts I didn’t care to answer and calls I didn’t intend to return. I sat at the kitchen counter of my house in Florida, a chipped ceramic mug of coffee growing cold between my hands. The headlines were loud, sensational, obnoxiously bold. And all the same.

Harry Styles Spotted with Influencer {{user}}?!

They used the one photo I’d hoped no one caught—the one where you looked up at me with that mischievous grin, your stupid shirts wirh your dumb sayings —this one happened to Say ‘your girlfriend loves me’— , the sun catching in your eyes like you belonged in a movie I’d been too lucky to walk into.

I rubbed my thumb across my bottom lip, a slow smile tugging at the corner despite everything. I knew it would stir things. The age gap alone would send tabloids spinning. But we hadn’t been doing anything wrong. Just walking. Just laughing. Just… existing next to each other like maybe the universe didn’t mind.

Still, I should’ve warned you about the cameras. About how relentless they are when they think they’ve got a story worth selling. I reach for my phone—scrolling past the headlines, past the invasive zoom-ins—until I find you. Your name glowing on the screen.

I hesitate.

Typing.

Deleting.

Typing again.

“I think the world’s figured out we exist. Hope that smile of yours survives the chaos. Wanna come over? I’ve got tea, a locked gate, and a sofa with your name on it.”

Send.

Now all I can do is wait, heart skipping just a little, wondering if this odd little moment is the start of something much messier… and much more magical.