Page 42 of The Prospect

“Did you have a fun night?” Hart asks, pulling up in front of my dorm room and shifting the car’s gear into park.

What a rhetorical question. Is the smile beaming across my face not enough to tell him that I’ve genuinely just had the best first date of my life?

“I’ll tell you what,” I counter with, settling within my chair. “You let me keep this.” I gesture toward the rock. “And I’ll tell you what I really think about our date tonight. Deal?”

Hart runs his tongue along his lower lip, his arm extended out as it rests on the back of my seat. “Deal.”

I smirk, rubbing the rock within my hand as a way to avoid making consistent eye contact with him, especially given the prank I’m about ready to pull.

“Well, the truth is, Hart, tonight’s date…it wasn’t very good…”

Hart’s face sinks almost instantly as his once bright blue eyes deepen into a sad shade of blue. It makes my heart wince, but I can’t help but continue to play along.

“‘It wasn’t very good?’” he repeats back to me, his husky voice full of disbelief. “Really, Hazel?”

I shake my head in absolution.

“Nope, I’m sorry, Hart, it wasn’t. In fact, the date wasn’t good at all…” I keep him on edge just that bit longer to torment him before I admit, “It wasgreat.”

With a look of relief, I watch as the panic frees itself from Hart’s face. His frown quickly transformed into a smile as I continue.

“I had such an amazing time with you tonight, Hart. Truly, I mean it, I did.”

As his hand brushes through my hair, I take the time to study the details that make him, him.

The strong curvature of his jawline.

The golden glimmer of his beard.

The mix of blueish-gray in his eyes. Gosh, it’s a color I haven’t seen before, one that would be extraordinarily challenging to capture on a canvas.

A canvas.

Thoughts race through my mind at a million miles per hour as I reach toward the one item that kicked off this entire night—what I’d been working on during the art hall…

“I, uh—have something for you,” I tell him, prompting him to pull back as I grasp a hold of my portfolio case and pull out my painting, taking a final proud glance down at it before I tuck it against my chest.

“For me?” Hart questions. “You…drew me something?”

I nod my head as the anxiety forces its way to break through. I suppress it. My art has got to be the number one thing I’m the most confident in, in this world. It’s my life. My passion. The one thing I knew I’d have to kick into full gear in order to complete step two in this plan: do a romantic gesture.

“I did.” I shrug nonchalantly, even though this portrait easily took me at least eight plus hours.

He doesn't need to know that.

“I wanted to paint something for you. I’m sure Green told you that I’m an artist, so…” I gesture the picture in his direction. “I, uh…thought maybe you’d like this?”

Ten seconds.

A solid ten seconds passes by where Hart does nothing. Says nothing. Gives me nothing to work with.

He just sits there staring down at the painting, jaw-dropped with wide eyes and a look I only wish I could make out.

Does he like it?

Is he taken back by it?

Does he think it’s too much?

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