The Rockstar Next Door (h.s)

The Rockstar Next Door (h.s)

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing13h 9m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Jun 28, 2021
"I'm not a fucking groupie for god's sake, I have a signed contract proving that I'm your damn neighbor," I hissed, keeping my arms firmly onto my chest as if his intimating eyes weren't already enough to make me feel little. Harry arched his brow, a sly - but playful grin lingering on his face. "Bullshit, you're either Group A groupie or Group B groupie. Group A-" "Excuse me?" "Listen - Group A is the kind of groupies that stalk us everywhere we go, places we eat, and even people we hang out with. And Group B is the kind of groupies that pretend they don't know who we are, and try acting all mysterious and special towards us but we all know it's an act and they just want us to love them." Harry snorted. I rolled my eyes, in utter shock that the band across from us is gonna be a pain in the ass the whole time here. "Oh Styles, I'll never fall for you," I announced, earning an underlying smile from him. "Yeah, we'll see about that." *** Elena moved to LA with her best friend to not just finish college but to finally write a new chapter in her life. Harry Styles, the lead singer (with daddy issues) of the uprising band The Walking Daydreams, also happens to be the asshole living across the hall. Never in her life did Elena think she would run into the big bad Styles, let alone live right across the hall from him. Living across the band is exactly what her conservative parents warned her about - never to associate with people that either has piercings, tattoos, or a bad mouth. Except that's the holy trinity of what makes Harry Styles. ***
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"I know exactly what you like." I swallowed, my throat dry despite the whiskey. "And what does that have to do with your secret?" His lips curved, the faintest hint of a smirk. "Because I think you want someone who can push back." The heat in my stomach curled tighter, and I hated that too. Hated that he was reading me too easily, hated that I couldn't tell if he was just playing or if he really understood. "That's not much of a secret," I said smoothly, keeping my voice even. "Anyone could guess that." "Maybe," Harry mused, his fingers toying with the rim of his glass. "But I don't think just anyone could keep up with you." I narrowed my eyes, my body betraying me with the way it leaned just slightly closer. "And you think you can?" He didn't answer right away. He just held my gaze, letting the anticipation stretch, letting the weight of it settle between us. Then, finally, his smirk deepened. "I guess that depends," he murmured, his voice dropping to something dark. "Are you gonna let me find out?" // August Paisley was born into bloodshed. As the daughter of Brooklyn's most ruthless mafia leader, she's spent her life sharpening her edges, knowing that love is a liability and trust is a death sentence. With enemies circling and war on the horizon, she has no time for distractions-especially not the kind that comes in the form of sharp-tongued, brooding, Harry Styles. Harry is everything she should hate. The son of her family's greatest enemy. A man raised on the promise of destruction. Their worlds are built on blood feuds and old grudges, and there's no future where the two of them walk away unscathed. But when their paths collide, what starts as a battle of wit and fire turns into something else-something intoxicating, something inevitable. Falling for him is a mistake that cost her everything. Her life. But in a war where nothing is certain, letting him go might be the most dangerous thing of all.

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