Rouge - H.S.

Rouge - H.S.

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing24m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Sep 15, 2025
Charlotte Marshall just wants to enjoy her last semester of college. She wants to go to parties, make out with strangers, and live her best life. But as the President's daughter, she finds herself elevated to celebrity status, the target of increased threats, and subject to heightened scrutiny. A proven flight risk, her antics have become cause for concern. Enter Special Agent Harry Styles, begrudingly assigned as not only a live-in agent but also the head of Charlie's detail. Styles has one task: tame the beast that is Charlotte Marshall. The only problem is, he's desperately in love with her. EXCERPT FROM ROUGE: His jaw ticked. "You're not just breaking protocol. You're playing games with your life." I crossed my arms, feeling like a child being scolded for playing with scissors. "I was fine." He stepped forward, close now. Too close. His presence was all-consuming, and she hated the way he towered over her. "You don't get to decide that." I tilted my chin up in a childish act of defiance. "You're not the boss of me." His eyes flicked over my face. For a moment, just a fraction of a second, something softer slipped into his expression-concern? Frustration? But it vanished just as fast. "Go shower," he said, turning away. "You smell like tequila and bad choices." I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks flushed anyway. Dammit. Round one: Charlie. But I had a feeling this war with Agent Styles was only just beginning.
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"Why do you care?" he asks. But it's not soft. It's sharp, defensive, like he's already bracing for the answer. I want to tell him the truth. Because you saved me. Because you're the only one who makes me feel real. Because if you fall apart, I don't know what happens to the rest of us. Instead, I just say, "Maybe I want to understand." He scoffs, no humor in it. "You don't. Trust me." Silence stretches between us. Then he steps forward, close enough that I can see the way his hands won't stop shaking. "You already know too much," he says, voice low. "More than you ever should've." I don't look away. "Then tell me the rest." He shakes his head. "It's not your place. You don't get to ask." "But I am asking." He exhales sharply. "Jesus, Lily. This isn't a story with a clean ending. I'm not a mystery. I'm a goddamn warning sign. I'm dangerous." I flinch, but I don't move. And that pisses him off more. He takes a step back like he's going to leave, then pauses. His eyes flick to my jacket. In one quick motion, he reaches in and pulls out the burner phone. "I think this belongs to me," he says, tone sharp but quiet. No accusation. Just fact. I don't respond. Just watch as he slips it into his pocket, like closing a door I wasn't supposed to open. He looks at me for one long second, jaw clenched. "Go home," he says again, this time like a warning. And this time, I believe him. He crushes the cigarette under his boot, turns his back, and walks down the alley, leaving me standing in the dark. - Lily didn't ask to be assigned to him. Harry Styles is a name whispered like a warning, famous for his ink, infamous for everything else. Brooding. Untouchable. But Lily has a habit of looking too closely. And when she finds something she shouldn't, the line between curiosity and consequence begins to blur. He told her to stay away. She should've listened. - TW: emotional abuse, manipulation, drugs, sex, violence, trauma.

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