Page 49 of The Prospect

Stepping into Green’s childhood home is like being transported back in time. Every part of this place is associated with a memory.

Like the familiar scent of a candle burning in the air. It takes me back to being ten years old. Green and I were playing footy in the house where he decided the confinements of the curtains would be the perfect spot for a net, and I would be the perfect candidate for a goalie…

Naturally, I didn’t manage to save Green’s powerhouse of a shot and as luck would have it, as the ball went soaring by me, it managed to knock one of Emily’s candles over and light a small rug into flames. It took Emily eight years before she ever lit a candle in the house again. Let’s just say candleless birthdays became the new norm.

Next, are the pictures on the wall. They remind me of every special moment in the Green household. Whether I’m in the photo or not, nine times out of ten, I was the one who likely took it.

I smile every time I see the same familiar photo of Green plastered right by the front door on his official signing day at Crawfield. It’s my favorite picture of him to this day. In the photo, he’s stood by Warren and Ira’s side, holding up his brand-new jersey as he sports a wide smile on his face. I remember the butterflies that unleashed in my stomach as I snapped that shot, but even more so, I remember the way they didn’t stop fluttering when Ira insisted that Green and I stand together for a picture of our own.

Ira Matthews always called me Green’s girlfriend, regardless of the amount of times I corrected him, but that isn’t what makes my heart somersault as I stare at that picture now. It’s the way that from a single glance at that photo, I’m transported back to the way Green carefully secured a hand around my waist, kissed me on the cheek, and whispered,“None of this would have ever been possible without you.”

“So, are you hungry?” Jude pulls me out of my trance, helping to remove my jacket from around my shoulders before securing it in the closet. “Emily and I were thinking of ordering a takeaway tonight. How does that sound, Hazel? Are you hungry?”

“I’m starving,” Green responds for me, recklessly slinging off his coat as he wraps an arm around my shoulder. I’m glad toknow his mood seems to be tapering off. It’s the mention of food, it has to be.

“Excuse me? Are you Hazel?” his dad asks rhetorically, narrowing his stare in on Green with a playful look in his eyes.

I lean into Green’s embrace, nudging him slightly as I respond. “He wishes.” I compel myself to pull back before I get too comfortable. “But yes, I’m starving too. I’m open to anything. You know I’m not picky!”

“Chinese it is then,” I hear Emily call out from the kitchen, reaching for the old-school telephone they’ve still got stuck on the wall. They’re so vintage it’s adorable. “Jude!” she calls out. “Come in here and help me pick a place, please.”

“Coming,” he calls back out to her, racing toward the kitchen whilst leaving Green and I stare back at one another.

I flash him a telling look. “Our conversation,” I gesture back, “isn’t over.”

Supper comesand goes in a flash and now, with Green’s mum and dad inside watching something on the telly, both Green and I are sitting out back, under a heater, watching as the sun escapes into the night.

“It’s been a while since I watched the sunset.” Green is the first to break the silence between us, looking up at the sky as he rests his hands behind his head. “It’s one of those things that as you get older you almost forget to look at, and when you eventually do, you start to see things for what they really are…”

It takes me a second to digest exactly what he’s trying to say, but even then, I have not a single clue as to what he’s alluding to.

Seeing things for what they really are?

What is he on about?

Or is he just talking to talk?

Lord knows he hardly spoke all supper long.

“Christ, Green.” I widen my eyes in disbelief. “I don’t see you for a few days, and what? You’ve gone all poetic on me? Did your romantic gesture for Amira really turn you into a complete and total sap?”

Green swallows, and even despite the deep complexion of his skin, I swear I can see the apples of his cheeks redden. It’s a tell-tale sign that he must really like her. I mean, I know she really likes him. It’s written all over her face and in all of her actions ever since they first met. Now I’m the one choking back on emotion.

“Amira really loved the bouquet you chose for her, you know.” I desperately try to keep this conversation afloat. “She’s still got it carefully displayed on her desk, and if I’m not mistaken, I'm pretty sure she made at least five different Instagram stories about it. You’re famous,” I try to throw in some humor, one he seemingly catches onto as he playfully yet softly scoffs.

“I can’t take too much credit,” he admits. “Mum made it especially for her. I wanted to get your opinion on the flowers,but…” He looks back up at the sky, choosing not to finish his sentence.

Now, there’s an undeniable sense of tension between the two of us, one that makes me want to bypass this topic of conversation altogether, but I know deep down, I can’t. The mention of Amira’s bouquet only takes me back to his note on my bed and the gesture I never got a chance to thank him for...

I couldn't not get my favorite girl one too.

- Greenie

“I hope you know that you didn’t have to do that for me, right?” I lecture him, sitting cross-legged on my chair as my head falls into my hands. He knows what I’m referring to. I don’t have to spell it out. “I hope Amira wasn’t offended or anything...”

“Offended?” Like I suspected, he's quick to find his voice again. “Why would she be offended?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I just hope it didn’t make her feel like her gesture was less special…”

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