Page 61 of The Prospect

The fact doesn’t ease me one bit as I look around, worried that at any moment a stranger will come rushing out of their house with a fist in the air and a blittering remark about “You kids these days have no respect,” and somehow, in the spiral that is my mind, I’ll be the one that gets in trouble for it.

“Oh, get out of that imaginative head of yours and live a little, Hazel.” Amira snaps her fingers in front of my face. “You do realize you’re only young once, right?”

“Thanks for the reminder.” I flash her a playful roll of my eyes until the pathway to move forward becomes much trickier to navigate. There seems to be an influx of people lingeringahead, and from what I can gather, the party has somehow migrated outward across the lawn with the front door wide open as people make their way in and out.

Right off the bat, I recognize a few faces. Amira had mentioned that most of the attendees tonight were mainly those in their final year at uni, but what she failed to mention was that they’d all be in attendance…

“How many people are supposed to be at this thing?” I can’t help but wonder, losing track of how many new faces continue to make their presence known.

Amira shrugs nonchalantly as if this is a routine for her. “I don’t know, maybe a hundred? Hundred and fifty?” she guesses as she scans through the crowd. “Just a small gathering. Nothing major.”

“‘A small gathering’?” My eyes widen. “‘Nothing major’? Are you even allowed to have this many people at a house party?”

“Can you relax?” Amira places a firm hand on my shoulder, stopping us both in place. “It’s not like it’s your house, Hazel, and besides, who knows where the night might take you. You might not even be here for long. You might very well be asked to leave...”

“‘To leave’?” Her words force my brows to crease in question. What does she mean ‘to leave’? I’ve never been escorted out of anywhere in my life. I know I got a little too drunk last time I came to one of these things, but let me tell you, I’m not the menacing drunk type. I’m the spill-your-guts type.

Clearly.

“Yes,leave…” Amira continues to enunciate the word. “You know to…” Amira’s sentence may trail off, but her stare only narrows in that much more on my face as she waits for me to catch onto what she’s evidently attempting to allude to.

It takes me a second, but finally, it clicks as I forcibly gulp back and turn into a brighter shade of red than a cherry tomato.I’ve never left anywhere with anyone. I’ve barely gotten past second base?—

“Do you know that you’re so fun to tease?” Amira bursts into an abundance of laughter.

I find this less than humorous as I rub my clammy palms against my skinny jeans and nervously look away.

“Loosen up, Hazel. Tonight’s all about having fun. You remember all the tips and tricks I told you about when it comes to guys, right?”

I nod with some reluctance. Amira has spent the last four yearsexplicitlyoutlining each and every detail of her sexual encounters to me in an attempt to teach me her top tips and tricks. It’s been helpful, to an extent, especially considering my experience in that department is zero to none.

I’d never tell her that though—for all she knows, I lost my virginity in year twelve to a guy who, to this day, remains unnamed.

Why?

Because he doesn’t exist.

I don’t know which would be more embarrassing. Outright telling Amira I’m a virgin or admitting that before her spiels, everything I’d learned about sex had come from spicy romance novels, and let me tell you, she’s got absolutely nothing on those…

“Anyway…” Amira peers back down at her phone, segwaying into the next topic while I try to erase my thoughts away from mine. “The guys are here.” She tucks her phone back into her bag. “They're coming outside to meet us now!”

“Now?” I feel an immediate sense of panic kick in as I quite literally start psychoanalyzing each and every detail about myself. “Okay—uh, how do I look? Are you sure my makeup is okay? Is my outfit too much? Too little? Or how about?—”

“Hazel,” Hart’s loud voice projects not only over top of the blaring music but triumphs over my escalating thoughts as I peer back at him over my shoulder.

“Hart,” I mumble his name beneath my breath as I take him into view. He’s dressed casually, wearing a jumper and dark wash pants. The outfit is muted, but it's in his favor. It draws your eyes toward his face, the star of the show.

Since we’ve grown acquainted with one another, Hart’s grown out his facial hair. What once started as some stubble has now transitioned into a golden beard along his jawline. It’s trim and well-kept and has left me wondering time and time again how it would feel nestled against my?—

“How are you, pretty girl?” Hart cuts my wandering imagination short as he leans in with that familiar, intoxicating scent and plants a tender kiss on my cheek.

I swallow before I speak, given that he’s wasted no time in finding my hand and intertwining it with his own, now rubbing small circles onto my palm to alleviate the tension.

“I’m good,” I tell him. “I’m…”Lost in his touch. “Reallygood, thanks.”

Hart smirks down at me with the faintest laugh. “Well, that’s…good.” The repetition of this same mundane word is as cheesy as it is flirtatious. It’s clear he sees my awkwardness as downright adorability—at least that’s what the look on his face is telling me, that and that, as usual, I look “fucking stunning.”

Hart’s undeniable confidence when it comes to complimenting me only makes me shy away that much more. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it.

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