The city buzzed with the soft noise of a Friday night—music, laughter, the distant honk of a taxi. Harry Styles leaned against the café door, eyes drifting over the crowd, seeking a moment’s calm.

Then, she appeared.

A girl, small and radiant, tripped off the curb, her drink flying out of her hand. In an instant, he reached out, pulling her toward him just as the drink splashed across his shirt, warm and sweet.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, eyes wide with shock. Harry chuckled, a sound that eased the tension between them.

“It’s fine,” he said, meeting her gaze. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, cheeks flushed. He breathed out, the moment shifting as a smile tugged at her lips.

“Here,” he said, guiding her to a bench. “Let me help.”

Before he could move, she bent down to fix her loose shoe. He caught the delicate way she worked, then dropped to one knee beside her.

“Let me,” he said softly, fingers deftly tying the laces. “You shouldn’t run in shoes like these.”

When he finished, he stood, their eyes locking. “Safe now.”

She let out a laugh, shy and breathless, and Harry knew he was already hooked.

“So,” he said with a smile, “how about I make it up to you with a drink?”

Her eyes brightened, and Harry knew the night had only just begun.