in the ring / harry styles

13- You're Mine

The dorm room felt emptier after Dad and Noah left, their presence a warm memory settling over the quiet space. I could still feel Noah's energy lingering in the small reminders he'd left behind—the half-empty cup, snack wrappers, a stray game controller. The dorm felt charged with a stillness now, the kind that settles after all the laughter and movement fade, and I found myself sitting on the edge of my bed, fingers toying with a loose thread on my sleeve as I replayed Noah's hugs and excited chatter, trying to hold onto that warmth for a little longer.

My phone buzzed, pulling me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the screen, and my heart skipped as I read the name: Harry.

Harry: Are you alone?

It was such a straightforward question, direct in a way that only Harry could pull off. There was something about his way of saying things—no extra words, no soft edges. It was like every sentence he sent was precise, a small challenge wrapped in an invitation he knew I couldn't refuse. I replied, feeling my grip on the phone tighten.

Lucy: Yeah. Noah left, and Emelia and Lynn are out.

Almost immediately, his response appeared.

Harry: Good. I'm coming over.

I stared at the message, my pulse quickening. It wasn't a question or a request—it was a decision, final and unshakeable, as though he'd already made up his mind and was simply informing me. A part of me wanted to brush it off, to tell him I didn't need company, that I'd be fine alone. But his confidence had a pull, something that cut through my usual instincts and made me feel like I wanted him here, despite everything.

I grabbed my keys and phone, taking a breath to steady myself before heading downstairs. The familiar hum of activity drifted through the common area: students clustered around tables, a few faces bent over laptops, music playing softly from someone's speaker in the corner. Megan sat behind the desk, glancing up as I approached, and raised an eyebrow as I requested a guest pass.

"Expecting someone?" she asked with a slight edge, her tone laced with something more like mild irritation than curiosity. As she passed the guest card to me, her smile was polite but strained.

Just then, Harry walked through the doors, his steps calm and measured. I noticed the brief change in Megan's expression, a flicker of annoyance mixed with something else as her gaze lingered on him. She extended her hand for his ID with a stiff formality, her tone clipped.

"You know the drill," she said, barely glancing up from her computer as she scanned his information, then handed him the card back. "Be safe, Lucy," she added, her voice carrying an unspoken message as she turned back to her screen.

"Thanks, Megan," I replied lightly, hoping to keep things casual.

As we moved to the elevator, the tension between Harry and me seemed to fill the small space, amplifying with each floor. He was quiet, but his presence seemed to draw everything in, making it hard to focus on anything but the space between us. When we reached my floor, he followed me back to my room, his gaze moving over the door, the walls, taking in everything with the calm scrutiny he brought to every moment.

Inside, the remnants of yesterday's time with Noah were scattered about: a crumpled snack wrapper, his game case lying open on my desk, a half-empty cup. I saw Harry's gaze linger on them, a faint, thoughtful smile on his lips as though he were taking in some detail only he could see.

"You're close to your brother," he observed, his voice low, more a statement than a question. There was an edge to it, something dark and possessive, as if he were assessing a part of me he'd never fully seen.