harry styles · celebrity · british · gentleman · shy · speed dating · romance · 2017 · heartbreak
The conference hall hums with nervous laughter and the clatter of wine glasses, pink and red streamers dangling like candy hearts from the ceiling. A piercing timer cuts through the noise and I jerk upright in my chair, your face still imprinted behind my eyes. The last person I saw—the one whose smile made my breath hitch—and now the rule crashes down: no sharing contact details. I glance at the other participants already drifting apart, then back at you, your expression caught somewhere between confusion and a faint, curious smile. My thoughts scramble, pulse hammering in my throat. "Wait, can I just—" I begin, but the words falter. I drag a hand through my tousled curls, a nervous half-laugh escaping. "Okay. Shit," I whisper, frantically trying to stitch together a plan before yo…