Page 47 of The Prospect

There’s no doubt she’d spent hours upon hours working on this. The line work is incredible, the colors are bright, and the care is unmatched. It’s like looking at a real-life photo. It's that good.

“It’s fucking amazing, right?” Hart stands by my side—continuing to admire it himself as he nudges my shoulder, I agree, but all I can seem to think about is step two: do a romantic gesture.

This was her romantic gesture.

“Yeah…it is,” I mumble, but it’s so quiet that I know he probably can’t even hear me. Hell, I can hardly hear myself. I’m too busy thinking about the fact that before this moment I was the only person that outside of family, Hazel had painted anything for. But now, as I see her artwork hung up in Hart’s station, it pains me in a way I hadn’t thought was possible.

“You alright there?” Hart places a firm hand on my shoulder, snapping me back to reality. “You need to take a seat?” He reaches to guide me over toward the bench.

I brush him off. “No, I’m good, I’m just…” I don’t know how to even finish my sentence, instead I choose to resolve this massive lump in my throat before I sputter out. “Tired.”

“Yeah,” Hart agrees, a yawn escaping his mouth. “Coach went a little too crazy today, but try and rest up.” He reaches back for his towel. “We’ve got a busy night on Friday.”

“We’ve?” I make note of a keyword in his statement. What does he meanwe’ve?

Hart stops in place once more. “Hazel really didn’t tell you?” he remarks. “The two of us are joining you and your girl at a party off-campus. ”

Disbelief courses through my veins. Hazel doesn’t do parties. Why is she doing them now?

“You are?”

“We are,” he agrees. “It sounds like the girls want to do a double-date kinda thing. So, you and I,” he gestures between the two of us before making a bee-line toward the showers, “better be on our best behavior.”

The air isbrisk as I exit the stadium.

It must’ve been like this all practice. Cold, windy, nipply. I suppose I just hadn’t realized it until now. But even despite how much running Coach put us all through today, somehow I find myself picking up my pace as I make my way toward mine and Hazel’s usual meet-up spot.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I announce loudly before I’ve even rounded the corner to meet Hazel. “I lost track of time and?—”

I stop.

I stop right where I am.

I have to.

The sight in front of me has turned me even colder than I once was as I watch Hart wrap Hazel into a warm hug and whisper into her ear.

She laughs as her short legs dangle in the air. She smiles as she wraps her arms around his neck. And she blushes when he looks right into her eyes.

Fuck, she does all these things and more before she even realizes that I’m here. Stood right here. Waiting for her. Watching her. Feeling my insides churn as she smiles brightly up at him.

“I’ll see you on Friday, okay,Haze?” he tells her, tucking some hair behind her ear before kissing her cheek.

What did he just call her?

“Can’t wait.” Hazel doesn’t deny the nickname nor the kiss as Hart places her back down and eventually falls out of view.

She can’t see me doing it, but as he walks away I glare into the back of him the entire time. It isn’t until Hazel makes her way over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder that finally, I draw my eyes away.

“There you are.” Her face is soft and her cheeks are rosy as she looks into my eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you. Are you ready to go?”

For a moment I’m drawn into her sweet familiar scent. It helps release the tension in my shoulders as I peer down at her and readjust my bag over my shoulder.

“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Let’s go.”

FIFTEEN

H A Z E L

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