Page 23 of The Prospect

At that party, I got so incredibly wasted, and that night, as Amira walked me back from the bar, I revealed my deepest confession to her.

“You know I’ve been in love before,”I slur out as Amira slings her arm over my shoulder, steadying me in place.

“Is that so?” She smirks down at me, looking for more details. “With who, huh?”

“My best friend,” I admit without an ounce of resistance, hardly hearing that little voice in my brain that tells me to stop what I’m saying right now.

“Your best friend?” Amira repeats back to me as she continues to guide the way, opening up the doors to our building as she leads me inside.

“Yup.” I smile with a confident nod of my head. “I have been since I was seven years old. He’s the only man I’ve ever loved, and probably will be the only man I ever will.”

It feels good to finally get that off my chest, say it out loud. The confession has been on repeat in my mind for years—this is the first time I’ve ever felt it on my lips and now that I have, it feels good; it feels right.

“Wow, note to self, you’re a confessional drunk.” Amira hits the button to summon the lift. “Care to share his name?” She leans up against the wall—folding her arms inquisitively across her chest.

Suddenly, a stint of sobriety kicks in, but still, the six tequila shots still have me in a chokehold as I murmur. “Daniel Green…my Greenie,” I tell her. “It’s him. It’ll only ever be him.”

“What are you talking about?” I go red in the face as I make my way over to my bed, clutching onto my blanket as a means to appease the anxiety I feel from her remark.

“Oh, don’t act dumb, Hazel. You know exactly what I’m talking about,” she counters. “And even if you didn’t tell me that secret all those years ago, just the way I saw you looking at him,talking to him, interacting with him the other night was enough to believe that there is something there between the two of you. It's obvious!”

“Well, you’re wrong,” I lie. “Nothing is going on between us, and nothing ever will. Green and I have known each other for fifteen years, Amira. If something were to have happened, it would’ve happened by now. Anyway, he wants you…not me.” I peer down at the floor at that confession, a confession that piques her interest as she sits up on the bed, fluffs out her hair, and bites down on her bottom lip.

“He wants me, you say?”

It takes everything in me to say these next few words to her. “Yes, Amira, he wants you. He likes you. He wants to be with you. So…” I tuck my knees up against my chest, hugging them in comfort. “Do you think you’d be up to giving him a chance or what?”

Amira ponders the question, getting me all riled up at the fact that she’s even weighing this up. In my mind, that tells me she’snotthe right one for him. She’s not. The answer is so simple. It’s a no-brainer. If someone were to have asked me the same thing, I wouldn’t have even needed to think twice about it. I would’ve already said yes, one hundred percent yes. But the reality is, no one is asking me that. They’re asking me to ask Amira.

“You know what?” Amira confidently shoots up from the bed, strutting her way over to the mirror. “Why not?” She shrugs. “I mean, I’ve got nothing to lose. I might as well go for it!”

“Really?” I tell her, feeling slightly scorned at just how excitable she now suddenly seems to be by the plan.

“Mhm.” She nods confidently. “Tell Daniel Green that Amira Adel is ready for him.”

GREEN

“Ayo, Hart!” I call out his name, running after him as he makes a bee-line toward his car following practice. “Wait up!”

Hart turns over his shoulder, assessing me up and down before he stops. “Hey, Green,” he remarks as he removes his duffle bag from his shoulder and throws it into the boot of his car. “You need a lift?”

“Nah, I’m alright mate,” I deny his offer yet don’t follow my refusal up with anything else, ensuing this prolonged period of silence between the two of us as Hart folds his arms across his chest and raises a suspicious brow.

“Well, uh—what’s up then?”

Instantly, my mind goes blank, and I’m unsure if it’s because of this tension between the two of us, or the fact that my mind has been absolutely dreading having this conversation.

It’s both.

“I just wanted to talk to you about something, that’s all.”

“Like?” Hart’s quick to respond, visibly ready for me to stop beating around the bush and get on with it.

What’s wrong with me?

This conversation should be so simple.

This task should be so simple.

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