Game On. Harry Styles

I watched him through the mirrored window that stood between us. He sat with his well-built arms folded across his chest. He wore a black button down shirt and black skinny jeans.

He was dark.

And he was mysterious.

He looked up like he knew I was watching and a dimpled smirk flashed across his face making my heart flutter. I draw in one deep breath and walk into the interrogation room.

"Hello, Mr. Styles," I said, cold and brief as I slam his file onto the table. He watches me as I take a seat opposite him, biting his lip.

"Hello there," He replied, as he unfolded his muscular arms and rest them on his thighs. I was warned about him, and his devilish charm. If only I knew that not even I could evade him, and if only I knew it was Game On.