Page 65 of The Prospect

It’s tortuous.

“Hazel?” Hart calls out my name, snapping me back into reality. “You alright, love?”

My throat is parched as I speak. “Yeah. I just…spaced out for a second, sorry. Did you, uh—bring the car around?” I rub behind my neck.

“Yep, it’s just out front.” He gestures toward the road. “I’ve even got the heating on and everything for you.”

I wince out a smile as he leads me down the front steps, fighting the urge to look back at Green and Amira, only it’s too strong and my mind is too convincing.

A final look won’t hurt, right?

Wrong.

It’s one thing to stare without someone’s knowledge. It’s another when they catch you in the act. And in the split second that I look back at the scene unfolding, I can’t help but lock eyes with Amira, who watches me step into Hart’s car before she flashes me a mischievous wave.

TWENTY

G R E E N

“It’s a little chilly.Don’t you think that maybe we should head inside too?” I propose, watching as Hazel disappears into the house, her hand carefully intertwined with Hart’s as he places his other on the low of her back.

It forces a knot in my stomach and an ache to run through my jaw.

I knew Hazel would be spending the night with Hart; that was a given, but even though she’s out of sight, the old saying of her being out of my mind hasn’t proven to be true.

Now, I’m just standing here, thinking about what she’s doing. What they’re doing and, most importantly, why the only thing I’m fixated on right now is convincing Amira to follow after them.

“Nah, I’d much rather have the fresh air,” Amira’s cheerful voice denies my request and pulls me in.

She always has a way of commanding my attention, not only because she has such a strong Geordie twang, but because she shows no ounce of reluctance when it comes to her physical touch.

Now, as I stand paralyzed, she runs a calculated hand up and down the curvature of my chest, forcing me to gulp.

“Besides…” She eliminates any remaining space between us. “I’m sure there are some ways I can warm you up.”

I’ll admit, I’ve never been the best at verbal foreplay, that’s why when I say, “Is that right?” my voice comes out as choppy—unsure, but Amira doesn’t seem to take any notice.

“That’s right,” she hums, dancing her fingertips along my shoulder. “So, tell me,Green. Do you need me to warm you up?”

I’m intrigued by her forwardness, and I know she knows it. Despite my reluctance, I haven’t resisted a single one of her requests yet, just like I don’t resist the way she drags me away from the front entrance and toward the brick at the side of the house.

As I follow behind her, I get a whiff of her perfume. She smells sweet—like flowers in the spring, blooming for the very first time. It’s refreshing, different and intoxicating all at once.

That’s Amira.

She’s all these things and more—leaving me to wonder how I’m the one she’s infatuated with right now. The one who has caught her attention despite the on-lookers around us.

“Miss me?” I’m egotistical as we reach the wall, and she draws me in with a tug of my jumper.

“But of course.” She plays with the strings, twirling them delicately between her fingertips. “But for a while there, I was beginning to think that you weren’t coming tonight.”

I scrunch my face. “What makes you say that?” I can’t help but wonder how she came to that conclusion.

Her face drops ever so slightly. “Well, it took you a really long time to respond back to me earlier. I was worried you were going to stand me up.”

“Stand you up?” I repeat, feeling a sense of remorse. “I would never, Amira. I just—got caught up with something, that's all.” I explain, refusing however to elaborate on what exactly I was caught up in doing. “But you should know that I wouldn't havemissed this,” I tell her, but it doesn’t seem to appease her, prompting me to tilt her chin upward and rephrase my words. “I wouldn’t have missed seeing you.”

Amira’s lashes flutter as she seemingly finds her confidence once more. “So, you did miss me then?” she asks eagerly.

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