Page 32 of The Prospect

I instantly start blushing, clutching onto my jacket much firmer by now, one he immediately offers to hold for me. It’s a kind gesture, but if I’m really reading into it, I’m pretty sure he wants to get a better look at me. I need to stop thinking everything is just an ulterior motive.

Get your head in the game.

“Thanks,” I tell him, hiding behind my hands this time as I pass it to him. “It’s uh—new. I just got it,” I tell him as confidently as I can without breaking eye contact. “So, I thought, hey, why not wear it to the footie?”

I’m literally going to cry about this interaction tonight.

“Well, it was a grand decision.” Hart doesn’t seem to pick up on how awkward I am in the slightest as he carries on. “I was actually out here looking for you and let’s just say, I didn’t expect to see you in this.”

I’ve caught his attention.

Tick.

“You were looking for me?” I’m not sure why the comment makes me squirm the way it does but I like it.

“Yeah.” He rubs behind his neck. “I wanted to come over and talk to you.” His movements are minor, but even then, I watch as he takes the faintest step toward me. I refuse to retaliate back and I’m glad I don’t, given that the closer he gets, the more I’m able to take in his scent.

It’s musky, almost a woodsy aroma, yet as he leans down to talk there’s even a subtle hue of vanilla. It’s a unique combination, one that only draws me in closer myself.

“You know, Hazel.” I love the way he says my name with that London accent. “I was talking to Green about you the other day,” he reveals, yet keeps the context of their discussion open-ended.

I play dumb.

“Is that right?” I remark—acting as if I had no idea Green was going to speak to him on my behalf. “And whatever were you two talking about?”

Whatever were you two talking about?

Am I in a renaissance movie?

Holy shit.

Paying no attention to my old English, Hart smirks, running his thumb along his bottom lip. “Give me your number, Hazel, and maybe we can talk about it later.”

Smooth.

I can’t remember the last time I was flirted with, but it can’t help but feel like forever. I’m out of touch, out of rhythm, as I allow a silence to fall between us.

Dammit, I should’ve already pulled my phone out of my pocket by now and handed it over to him, but I’m slow, uncoordinated, nowhere near as direct as he is…

“If that’s okay with you, of course,” Hart jumps back in, the look on his face tells me that he’s working some damage control, given I’ve remained notoriously hush.

Say something!

“No, no. Of course, that’s okay,” I force myself to speak up. “Let me just, uh—grab my phone.” I fiddle with the zippers on my bag, but of course, I can’t seem to get it open. “Christ, I’m sorry, I?—”

“It’s okay.” Hart places a hand over top of mine, halting me in place.Jesus, his hands are huge.“How about you just put your number into my phone instead?” He gestures in my direction. “It’ll make things easier. Don’t you think so?”

There’s something about the way my hand has disappeared under the breadth of his, and for the first time, I feel something…butterflies…excitement. It’s a feeling I haven’t felt for anyone. Anyone but…

“I’d love to.” I continue to rewire my brain as I carefully type in each digit of my phone number before gently placing his phone back into his hand.

“Thanks.” He smiles down at me once more. “I look forward to filling you in on mine and Green’s conversation.”

I suck in the faintest of breaths as I faintly nod up at him. “Me too.”

A quiet falls between us like before, only this time I’m not fretting about how stupid I’m acting, I’m using the time as a means to assess Hart’s intricate features.

His full lips.

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