in the ring / harry styles

19- The After Party

Emilia steps between us, her frame small but her presence firm, her voice cutting through the tension with a quiet authority that I hadn't expected. "Jake, that's enough. She doesn't need this. You're out of line." Her voice is steady, unwavering, each word laced with a controlled intensity that seems to catch him off guard, if only for a moment.

Jake's glare shifts to her, his eyes narrowing as if he's debating whether to argue, but then he looks back at me. His jaw is clenched tight, frustration pooling around his eyes, his expression a twisted mask of resentment and something sharper—an edge of hurt hidden behind a wall of pride. 

"Fine. Go ahead, Lucy. Do whatever the hell you want. But don't think you're too good for me," he bites out, his tone cold, his words like a slap across the face. "We both know that's bullshit."

The finality in his voice, the venom in his gaze, leaves a shadow lingering around me as he turns abruptly, shoving his way through the crowded room. People part around him, some glancing over in curiosity, others pretending not to notice, but his exit leaves an unmistakable mark—a heaviness in the air, something dark that settles over me like a weight.

I exhale, the breath unsteady, trying to shake the lingering intensity of his anger, the words he spat out still echoing in my mind. Emilia is beside me in an instant, her hand finding my arm, a gentle but grounding touch, her face a mixture of concern and resolve.

"You okay?" she asks softly, searching my face. Her eyes are filled with an understanding, a quiet reassurance that settles me a little. Emilia doesn't press for more; she just watches me, waiting.

I manage a small nod, my voice coming out in a low, almost shaky tone. "Yeah, just... done for the night," I say, forcing a soft sigh to ease the tightness in my chest. "After everything with him, I'd rather just head back to my dorm."

Emilia's gaze doesn't waver, her own expression shadowed with frustration. "I get it. He's... ugh, he's an ass. Do you want me to walk you back?"

Her words are straightforward but filled with genuine care. I shake my head, giving her a reassuring smile. "No, really, I'm fine. Besides, you should stay." I gesture toward the party still pulsing around us, trying to ease her worry. "Lynn's still inside, and I know you guys were looking forward to this. Don't worry about me—I'm meeting up with Harry anyway, so I won't be alone."

Emilia hesitates, her brows knitting together as she bites her lip, clearly torn. But finally, she nods, wrapping me in a fierce hug. "Alright. But text me if you need anything, okay?"

"Promise," I say, returning her smile with a hint of reassurance. She holds my gaze a moment longer, as if checking for any cracks, before finally releasing me. With a quick, supportive wave, she turns back toward the house, disappearing into the warm glow of the porch lights as the heavy door swings shut behind her, sealing in the thumping bass of the music and the hazy lights.

Now alone, the night seems quieter, the chill air seeping into my skin, clearing the lingering fog of the party. I pull out my phone, and the screen lights up with a message from Harry.

Harry: Are you almost done?

His words bring a comforting steadiness, anchoring me in the present. I quickly type a reply, letting him know I'm heading back to my dorm.

The walk away from the sorority house feels like shedding layers of tension, each step a little lighter as the buzz of the party fades behind me. The campus around me is mostly empty, quiet, with only the faint hum of distant voices and laughter carrying through the night. It's a relief—a calming contrast to the intensity of the last few moments.

My phone buzzes again, pulling me from my thoughts. Another message from Harry.

Harry: I'm here. I'll wait. Pack a bag for the night.