Page 21 of The Prospect

“Step one.” I flip to the next page in the scrapbook where I’ve illustrated a couple in black in white, catching each other’s gaze. “Catch their attention.”

It’s a simple step but one quintessential to the entire plot.

I need to stop thinking about this like it’s a book.

“In every romance, there’s always that memorable first exchange. The moment where you see the story really begin to blossom. That's what we both need. You need to find a way to catch Amira’s gaze, and I need to find a way to catch Hart’s.”

“Didn’t I already do that?” Green rebuts. “I mean, she was looking me up and down at the pub. Was she not?”

“Sure, but it doesn’t count.” I shake my head. “This plan officially starts as of today. We both have to begin at step one,intentionally.”

“Fine,” Green agrees, rustling back through the crisps bag. “Whatever you say. What’s step two?”

“I’m glad you asked.” I flip onto the next page. Here, I’ve drawn a recreation of the cards on the doorstep scene in the movieLove Actually. “This step will require us both to make a romantic gesture for the other person. It’s simple, and when the time comes, we can think about what kind of gesture that will be. Does that sound good?”

“Sounds great. Step three?” he encourages me to carry on, though I’m already flipping the page regardless.

This time, Green whistles as his eyes widen at the illustration I’ve drawn of a couple kissing. “Hazel, how could you draw something so inappropriate? In a library too? Shame on you…”

“Shut up.” I roll my eyes, gesturing back to the drawing. “Step three is important. It’s the first kiss. Everyone remembers their first kiss with someone, so you’ve got to make it special.”

Green isn’t as receptive to agree this time around. “I hardly remember any of my first kisses.” He shrugs, dumping the crumbs from the crisps bag into his mouth. “Do you?”

I swallow deeply, refusing to answer his question as I quickly move along to the next page of my book.

We need to stay on track here.

“Um—step four. Learn a secret about them.Now…” I attempt to resolve the sudden clamminess of my palms. “This one is important, it’s almost the gateway into really getting to know the person. When we learn a secret about someone, it makes us feel closer to them. It makes them trust us. That’s what we need here.Trust.”

“Does it matter the depth of the secret?” Green asks, curious to know more as he leans in across the table.

“I mean, ideally, yes. The deeper the secret, the more the person trusts you. If Amira says one time she stole candy from the pound shop as a kid, then you’ll know just how much she trusts you. We’re looking for depth here, Green. It’s gotta be something that no one else knows.”

“Got it.” He nods and somehow, as we approach the final stage in the process, I’m shocked at just how receptive he’s been to each and every step. I mean, I didn’t expect much of a debate given his go-with-the-flow personality, but I’m surprised he’s let me take the lead on this. Need I forget, this was supposed to behisplan...

“Is that all?” he asks. “Is that the final step?”

“Not quite.” I’m almost reluctant to flip to the next page, given I’ve drawn a couple sneaking behind closed doors with the acronymNSFWbolded overtop. Though, I’m left with no other choice as I imminently flip the page and Green’s face lights up in delight.

“Seal the deal?” he reads in cursive before flashing me a suggestive look, one that makes me want to run and hide. “That’s the last step, Hazel?Damn.”

“Yes, it is.” I nervously inform him. I don’t know how we keep ending back at this subtle “sex” talk, but in any romance novel or movie I’ve ever read, closed door or not, somehow, someway, something happens, therefore, it couldn’t be excluded.

“You know, Haze.” Green leans in close, tapping on the page. “This might be my favorite step of all.”

“Don’t be gross!” I push his comment aside, although there’s nothing gross about envisioning Green in such a setting. Hot, bothered, turned on, naked?—

I slam the scrapbook shut and shove it back into my bag as Green leans back into his chair, intertwines his hands and rests them casually over top of his stomach before flashing me a smirk.

I hate how good he looks all the time.

“What's that look for?” I inquire, knowing all too well to trust that his sly smirk is nothing more than just for amusement. There’s always an ulterior motive.

“I’m just thinking about how you forgot one tiny little detail.”

One tiny little detail?

I furrow my brows, reciting the steps back in my mind in an attempt to understand where I could’ve possibly gone wrong.

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