Page 68 of The Prospect

“‘Left with Hart’?” I only repeat it back to her because it makes no sense to me.

Left to go where with him?

When did this happen?

Why didn’t I see it?

“Are you sure?” I debate. “How do you know? We’ve been together the entire time.”

Amira’s face is a sea of calm in contrast to my waves of panic. I have to calm down. “I saw them leave while we were outside,” she explains calmly. “You wouldn’t have seen it because, well…” She pulls her hair away from the nape of her neck and taps toward the spot my lips once lingered. “You were a little preoccupied.”

Almost instantly, my uncertainty from earlier starts to make sense. Amira’s wave, she was waving to Hazel.

“I’m happy for her, you know,” Amira admits before I say anything else. “Like I told you earlier, Green, I’ve always tried to give Hazel advice about her love life over the years and tonight, well, she finally took it. Leaving with Hart was a big step. Hopefully, she remembers all thetrickswe talked about.”

I swallow hard, but there’s nothing to swallow. My throat is dry and full of thorns, piercing my ability to speak. Piercing my ability to function.

“Anyway…” Amira pulls back with a shrug, reaching for my hand to drag me out of the room. “Let’s go get you a drink, shall we?”

She attempts to step ahead, but I remain glued in place, bringing her to a halt too.

“What?” She tilts her head in question. “Are you not thirsty or something?”

I run my free hand along my mouth before tucking it into my pocket. “No, that's not it,” I tell her. “It’s just, maybe we should, uh…leave ourselves?”

My remark is two-sided. On one hand, I’ll admit, I want to get out of here because I’m already over this party, but the truth is, I only really want to go because I know that if Hazel left with Hart, she wouldn't have gone back to his place. She’s at her dorm.

She has to be.

“Daniel Green.” Amira smirks joyfully as she snuggles into my grasp. “I thought you’d never ask…”

HAZEL

“So, this is my shoebox. I mean dorm room,” I sarcastically remark, swinging open the door to the place I’ve called home for the past four years.

Over the years, Amira and I have requested to be upgraded, but every time we do, we’re either too late or seem to get beaten out by someone else. This campus prioritizes first-year students over everyone else, and with a growing student population, I’m surprised we’ve even been able to stay this long.

Last year, I proposed living off-site. Amira was up for the plan, but when we saw the costs of rentals in and around Crawley, we quickly reneged on the plan and decided that welovethis shoebox. This shoebox is thebest. Besides, if Amira wants to move to New York City next year, she better get used to small-scale living.

“Aw, it’s not that bad.” I could’ve sworn Hart had to duck his head to step inside. He’s about three inches away from hitting the top of the ceiling at this point. It’s comical, to say the least.

“Really? ‘Not that bad’?” I playfully provoke him as I walk toward my dresser and scour through my clothes.

Hart laughs as he takes a seat on my desk chair. “They say the best things come in small packages. I mean, look at you, Hazel.”

My jaw slacks open as I fold my arms across my chest in a huff. “Christopher Hart,” I call him by his full name solely for dramatic purposes. “Did you seriously just call me short?”

With wide eyes, he starts to stutter. “No, no. I didn’t mean to call you short. I…”

I do an absolutely terrible job of trying to hold it together while Hart reverts to damage control. It’s priceless.

“What I was trying to say was that you’re perfect the way you are and?—”

He stops talking as soon as he catches a glimpse of the sinister smirk on my face.

“I’m kidding,” I mouth.

He shakes his head with a sense of amusement. “You’re a bully.”

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