"What?"

Harry's stunned, eyes blinking in confusion at my accusation.

But I don't let up.

"You heard me, Styles." I chuckle, setting my mug down on the table.

"I wasn't—"

I raise an eyebrow, silently daring him to lie.

He sighs, defeated. "Damn, you don't take shit, do you?" He chuckles, grabbing both our mugs as he heads to the sink.

"To my defence, your boobs are really nice," he adds under his breath.

I smirk. "Yeah, I've been told."

He glances over his shoulder, looking both impressed and amused.

Before he can fire back, the door opens, and in walks DJ Seven—also known as John.

"Ella?" His face lights up with surprise. "What are you doing here?"

I stand to give him a quick hug. "Hey! I could ask you the same thing."

"You're the one interviewing him?" John grins knowingly.

Harry's gaze flicks between us. "Wait—you two know each other?"

John and I exchange looks before nodding. "Yeah," I smile.

"I met John ages ago through Jimmy," I explain. "Didn't know you guys were roommates, though."

"Well, small world," John smirks before heading toward his room.

I grab my bag, turning back to Harry. "Thanks for the interview... and the tea. You make a mean cup of tea, Styles."

He grins. "I do my best."

I step toward the door, offering him a handshake. "It was nice meeting you."

He looks at my hand like it's an alien concept before pulling me in for a quick hug instead. "Formalities? After all we've been through?"

I chuckle, stepping back.

"So, I'll see you tonight then?" I ask. "We want to get some photos of you working."

"We?"

John waves lazily from his room before disappearing, leaving us alone again.

"Yeah, Ed and I. That okay with you?"

His head tilts slightly. "So... you have a boyfriend."

Oh, cocky much? As if the only possible reason I wasn't throwing myself at him was because I was taken.

I bite back my laugh. "No. Ed's my friend. And a great photographer. He's actually doing me a favor."

Harry grins. "Oh. Well then—tonight's perfect, Ella."

I turn to leave, but when I glance back before stepping into the elevator, I catch him.

Checking me out again.

I shake my head, smirking as I press the button. And just like that, he disappears—at least until tonight.

Chrys is thrilled when I tell her about the interview, but I don't see the big deal.

"Yes, Harry's got a sense of humour. Yes, he's fun. But boyfriend material? No. Freaking. Way."

"If I dated someone like him, I'd have to put a GPS on his dick," I say, making Chrys choke on her drink. "And even then, I'd probably lose him somewhere between the thighs of a brunette or the mouth of a blonde."

She groans dramatically. "Okay, valid. But just flirt a little! No harm done."

I give her a look. "Not happening."

Still, I have to admit... I am curious to see him in action behind the bar.

Ed and I both have the night off, so we head to Alibi, him carrying his camera, me carrying my let's-get-this-over-with attitude.

"You look goooood, Cameron," Ed teases as we approach the entrance.

"This outfit suits you."

"It's called a jumpsuit and thanks, Ed, that's so sweet—"

"But really... what happens when you need to pee?"

I groan. "You hold it, obviously."

I ruffle his hair just to annoy him, and his dramatic groan of frustration makes it all worth it.

The second we step inside, the bass from the music hits like a shockwave.

Immediately, I start moving to the beat, flipping my hair dramatically, headbanging like I'm in a metal concert just for fun.

Ed tries to copy me—but with his short hair, the effect is completely lost.

We laugh hard.

DJ Seven spots us from his booth, shooting me a quick wave, which I return before dragging Ed toward the central bar.

And that's when I see him.

Harry.

He's mid-performance, dancing behind the bar as he fills a row of shot glasses with military precision, flipping and juggling bottles effortlessly. The crowd is loving it.

Ed lifts his camera, snapping shots of the action.

Harry, noticing us, smirks—and before I know it, he's reaching out a hand, motioning for me to join him behind the bar and then on it like we are a scene from Coyote Ugly.

Oh, hell yes.

I take his hand, stepping onto the bar in one swift move.

The crowd erupts.

His hands are warm as he pulls me toward him, and suddenly, we're dancing.

It's not planned. Not rehearsed. But we move as if it were. He spins me out, pulls me back, dips me with a fluidity that catches me off guard.

And then, he turns me. My back against his chest. His hands smooth over my shoulders, down my sides, stopping at my waist.

He moves. Slow. Controlled.

I feel his smirk against my ear.

I smirk right back.

Because oh, buddy, I am not one of your fangirls.

I spin back to face him, stepping out of his hold with a playful smile.

"...And that's how it's done, right?" I tease.

His grin fades slightly.

"What is?" he asks, voice close to my ear. The music pounds through my chest, goosebumps rising on my skin.

"The game."

I raise a single brow, then turn to Ed. "Help me down?"

The crowd cheers as Sylvia joins in, whistling loudly as I step off the bar.

Harry's still watching me when he resumes his spot behind the bar, but the frown is gone.

He slides two shots across the counter—one for me, one for Ed.

"Bottoms up," he says, eyes locked on mine.

I take it without hesitation, throwing it back.

"Absolut Style," I say, setting the glass down with a smirk.

His jaw flexes.

Oh yeah, I won this round.