Page 33 of The Prospect

His un-tame yet thick brows.

The dimples in his right cheek as he smiles, yet most of all, the look of new beginnings radiating from him onto me.

I like it.

“Well, I hate to bounce, but my family is here today, so I’m going to go over and say hi to them, if that’s alright with you?”

His family is here but he came to me first?

“Oh, absolutely.” I nod, gesturing for him to casually go despite squirming internally. “Don’t let me hold you back. Go say hi to them. Say hi for me too.”

“Will do.” He nods, taking a subtle step backward, but he only gets a few feet before suddenly he stops, realizing that my jacket is still within his grasp. “Shoot, can’t forget this.” He walks it back over to me, opening it up so that he can help me to put it on.

Blushing majorly I turn around, willingly accepting his help as I slip on one sleeve at a time before turning back to face him.

“I’ll give you a ring soon.” He leans in to plant a tender kiss on my cheek, his stubble ticking against the soft of my skin before he pulls back, smiles and eventually finally walks away.

It’s a conflicting feeling. I don’t want to take my jacket off because he only just helped me to put it on, but Christ, I’m on fire as a result of his touch.

I bite down on my lip, running my cool palms across my cheeks as a means to cool myself down, only as I do, silently squealing to myself all I can see across the way is Green—staring.

Keeping a watchful eye before Amira tugs on his shoulders and pulls him back in.

He was watching.

ELEVEN

G R E E N

“No plans with Hazel today?”Mum asks, standing behind an assortment of flowers, her face barely visible as she arranges an oversized bouquet.

“Not today,” I tell her, scouring the shop for something perfect—something not too grand but a bit better than your average assortment of flowers.

Hazel tells me that flowers are a classic, yet sorta basic romantic gesture for step two. But what can I say? I’m a classic man. I think flowers are beautiful. I’ve thought that my entire life, though I’ve had no other choice, given that my parents have owned a florist shop longer than I’ve been alive—Green’s Greenery, get it?

Mum started working at the shop when she was in secondary school and shortly after she graduated, she was offered the opportunity to partner with the shop's owner, who just so happened to be my dad’s mum.

A love story, two kids and twenty-five years later, here we are, with me filtering through our annual selection in hopes of starting a love story of my own.

I’m too indecisive though, I have no idea what to pick. All I know is that roses are too formal and carnations are too lowkey.

I stare down at my phone, hopeful that Hazel would’ve finally answered my plethora of desperate questions by now:

What flowers should I get?

Does the color matter?

Does Amira have a preference?

Is white too wedding-like?

No answer and it’s strange.

Hazelalwaysresponds.

Why isn’t she responding?

Is she okay?

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