No Matter What // Harry Styles AU -- Dunkirk inspired

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Hazel's P.O.V

As soon as I step into the room, the beautifully dressed guests quiet slightly, pausing in their polite conversation to stop and stare. I gulp nervously as I stand awkwardly feeling like a fish out of water.

"Don't you worry about a thing," Gran murmurs to me privately, obviously noticing the sudden attention we command. 

I smile politely, but I feel like a thin wisp that might blow away from one bad look. Thankfully, the band hops into a light and quick little pseudo-jazz number and the guests seem to return to their casual conversations. Gran surveys the room, looking for the first group to introduce me to when we are approached by a young, nervous looking waiter.

"M'am," he begins, "I'm afraid there's been a small mix up in the kitchen. Would you mind clarifying one of the dishes?"

"What do you mean a mixup?" Gran asks, flabbergasted.

"Um," he nervously swallows, his dark eyes darting back and forth between Gran and I. "It's something to do with the entree?" 

"Oh for goodness sakes," she laments under her breath. "I'll be right along, thank you for letting me know."

"Hazel," Gran turns to me. "I wont be but a moment. Do try and mingle- and properly this time," she adds quietly as she gives me a little squeeze before spinning on her heels towards the kitchen, leaving me completely defenseless.

I breathe out heavily as my eyes scan the room- I don't recognize a single soul. I can't even find Grandfather or Uncle Ben. I do, however, spot an untenanted corner right near the band in the back of the room. I quickly try to make my way over, keeping my gaze focused on my feet so I don't accidentally wind up in someone's conversation.

"Courage, damn it," I yell at myself. "You're being silly. There's nothing to fear, everything is going to be fine and I just need to-" My inner monologue is interrupted when I bump into a strange figure.

A little surprised by the sudden contact, I look up to find a gentleman smiling down at me. He's a handsome man, and his brown hair even reminds me a little of Harry's. His steel blue eyes are decidedly different, their coolness much less friendly Harry's.

"Why excuse me, miss," he begins slowly, his voice a deep and polished sound.

"Pardon me," I apologize for the second time tonight. "I wasn't paying any attention."

"I'm afraid that makes me the sorry one then."

"Whatever for?" 

"I'm just sorry I couldn't capture your attention." His thin lips turn up in a crooked smile as he stares confidently at me. I flush at his flirtation, but mostly out of unwanted surprise.

"I'm very sorry to have bumped into you, Sir," I say, eying him carefully. "I hope you have a pleasant evening," my curt tone fails to match my polite words as I try to step away from his advances. In a swift and easy step, though, he moves so that he is immediately in my way. I narrow my eyes at him, annoyed by his arrogance and persistence.

"Excuse me," I say, my frustration clear in my edged voice. 

"You must be terrible at cards."

"What?" I ask harshly, not even bothering to look up at him. I just want to find a path away from him.

"You've got quite the tell," he baits.

"What are you talking about? What tell?"

Bending down to meet my eyes, he lightly traces above my left eyebrow. "These cross little vixens," he explains with a smirk. I flinch at the touch of his foreign fingers as they brush a loose strand of hair out of my face.