9. H A Z E L
NINE
H A Z E L
“Is all of this really necessary?” Green grumbles beneath his breath as I filter through a rack full of clothes. The metal hangers that scrape along the rack barely mask his moans as I eliminate every potential dress option for being either too tight, too frilly, too boring, or too much.
Why is it so difficult to shop retail nowadays?
“Yes, it is,” I answer him just like I have for the past ten times he’s asked me the same question. “It’s very necessary, Green. I swear I never have anything nice to wear.”
Before uni, I used to have a wide selection of clothes in my closet, but over time, I’d stopped buying nice things because, in the end, I only ever manage to get paint on quite literally everything. Now, I stick to comfortable, loose, preferably dark clothing—it’s hard to see paint when your shirt is black.
To preface, let me be the first to say: never, ever change your sense of style or fashion for anyone. Wear what you want. Do what you want and be confident in who you are, but with that being said, in order for me to be the best version of myself, I need to try something new—something different.
I’ve already stepped out of my comfort zone when it comes to the entire premise of this plan, and at this point, why not go big or go home?
Am I right?
“What do you mean? You’ve got lots of nice clothes, Hazel,” Green is quick to compliment me, though I’m unsure if it’s a matter of whether he genuinely thinks I do, or he’s just trying to sweet talk his way into getting us the hell out of this department store.
“So, Adam Sandler-esque is your type then?” I joke.
Green leans up against a display, resting his head on top. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve got nice stuff, you do, you just…have to remember to wear it, that’s all. Besides, don’t be changing your whole look for Hart, because if that’s what you’re doing, I’m seriously going to call this whole thing off. You're perfect just the way you are!”
My heart softens, but I have to remember I can’t give him that luxury anymore. I choke down the butterflies.
“Can you relax, Greenie?” I place a hand on his shoulder. “A couple of new outfits isn’t going to completely transform me into a new person. Now…” I make my way over to the next display, filtering through a series of tops. “Why don’t you go off somewhere and we’ll meet up in a bit, okay ?”
“Like where?” Green’s like a lost puppy dog as he follows closely behind me. He’s acting like he’s never been left alone in his life. I suppose he hasn’t, I’m always his companion anytime we go anywhere.
“I don’t know?” I shrug. “Don’t you need anything? Or to spruce yourself up before step one with Amira? Now is the time.”
“Spruce myself up? Do I need to?” he counters, scanning his body up and down.
He doesn’t. He’s so perfect, it’s frustrating, but not quite as frustrating as Amira has become since I mentioned Green's interest in her. Since then, she hasn’t stopped going on about how excited she is to see him again.
It’s tough to hear, even tougher to swallow, but mostly just hard to act like it doesn’t affect me—which since reprogramming my brain, it doesn’t…
Like I said, I refuse to go stay aboard this merry-go-round a second longer. I’m getting set-up with Hart, not Green. Hart’s the one I chose, and Hart’s going to be the one that’ll rid my mind of any and all Green related thoughts.
He has to.
“You know you always look great,” I tell him as platonically as possible. “But I don’t know…” I try to find anything to pick at as I intricately assess his frame. “Didn’t you say to me earlier in the week that you needed a haircut? Maybe go and do that, then we’ll meet back up in a bit. How does that sound?”
Green runs his hand along his hair, seemingly recalling his comment, before he pulls back and faintly nods.
“Fine, you’re right,” he agrees, and I have to resist the urge to say I always am . “I’ll text you when I’m done. Okay?”
“Okay.” I nod as he plants a soft kiss onto my cheek, leaving me paralyzed in place as he falls out of view.
What was it I said earlier?
Oh yeah, right, redirect my thoughts to Hart.
Only Hart.
GREEN
“Okay, Mr. Hotshot,” are the first few words that come out of Hazel’s mouth as we meet back up at my car, a look of surprise and pleasure smitten across her face. “Looking good. Looking good.”
“You like?” I act like an absolute ponce as I show off my haircut. It’s clean, faded, lined up to perfection and frankly, making me feel like a million bucks going into step one of this plan.
“I do.” Hazel boosts my confidence as she reaches her hand up along my hair with an encouraging nod. “They did a good job. You look like a brand new man.”
I playfully roll my eyes, peering down at the plethora of bags in her hands. “What about you?” I ask. “You found some things that you liked?”
An unexpected frown instantly forms on her lips as we step into the car. “What?” I hate seeing her even remotely upset. “What’s wrong, bug ?”
Shit, I need to stop calling her that.
“Nothing.” She doesn’t pick up on it. “Shopping went well, but I…didn’t know what looked good and what didn’t, so I ended up buying?—”
“Everything?” I finish her sentence for her.
She winces, but smiles up at me. “ Yeah… ”
“Hazel.” I immediately rub my hand along my face. “You seriously shouldn’t have done that. Did you at least try everything on?”
“ No …” Another sheepish response falls from her lips and this time, I can’t help but burst into laughter.
“You’re killing me, woman.” I reach to turn on the ignition to the car, placing a hand behind her seat as I reverse out of the car park and merge into the traffic.
“I’m sorry, Greenie, but with you gone, it was hard to decide. I always need your opinion. You know that. The good thing is, I can return everything that doesn’t fit or I don’t like. I’ve got receipts.”
“And what happens if you do like everything?” I counter with. “What then?”
“Well, then I’ll pick up a couple of extra shifts at your mum and dad’s shop.”
“No you will not.” I flick on my indicator once we reach the intersection. “Whatever you end up keeping, it’s my treat. Okay? I’ll pay for it,” I protest.
“Greenie, no!” Hazel has never been one to take a hand-out. It’s always been this way. I don’t know how many times I have to remind her that, as her best friend, I want to do nice things for her without her feeling awkward or obligated to do something back.
She should never feel awkward around me.
Never.
“Please?” I peer over at her from the driver's side, watching as the faint beams of sunlight dance along the apples of her cheeks and illuminate the light brown— hazel speckles in her eyes.
Why have I never noticed that before?
I shake myself out of it.
“I’m not having you work anymore than you already do. You’re busy enough as it is with school and I make good money, so please, it’s my treat, love. I insist.”
She sighs. “Do you ever take no for an answer?” There’s the faintest smile on her face as she tilts her head.
“ No .” The response almost feels comedic. “Not when it comes to you, Hazel. I refuse.”
We hold each other’s stares, and for a moment, it’s a settling feeling; a comfort almost. Hazel is the epitome of home. Not only does she remind me of it, but everytime we’re together, no matter where we are, I feel it.
Home is a person.
Home is Hazel.
Hazel’s the first to break the exchange as she swallows deeply and rests her head back against the seat. “Where are we going?” She peers out the window before staring back at me. “The campus is the opposite way.”
“We’re not going to the campus,” I tell her.
“What? Why not?” she asks.
“Because…” I turn onto another street, one I know that she’ll recognize. “We’re going back to my place. You said you needed my opinion, did you not?”
“No…” I know she knows exactly what I’m insinuating to as we pull up in front of my flat. “Not happening, Green. No way!”
“Oh, yes, it’s happening, and yes way.” I step out of the car, reach for her bags and open up her passenger side door. “C’mon, Haze, I wanna see exactly what you got.”
“Hazel Jane Collins.” I cover my mouth, trying my best not to burst into a playful laughter as Hazel steps out of my closet in another one of her outfit choices. “What were you thinking when you bought that dress?”
“I thought it was cute!” she protests, hands on either hip as she stands in the epitome of what I’m calling a “cupcake in a skirt.” It’s got the puffiest sleeves I’ve ever seen, not to mention it’s also bright blue.
“Haze, I hate to say it, but…you look like a damn tea-cup in my mum’s cupboard,” I can’t help but laugh as I lie down on my bed, arms perched up behind my head as I smirk.
“A teacup? Are you serious?” She frowns, stomping her dainty feet against the rug on my floor. “I really thought this one was going to be the one, Green!”
“I’m sorry, Haze,” I try to let her down gently, “but you said you wanted my honest opinion, so here it is. Look on the bright side, that one is not a total write off.”
“No?” She peers back down at it again before meeting my eyes. “You don’t think so?”
“Nope, as a matter of fact, that’ll be the perfect dress to wear when you get invited to Buckingham for an afternoon tea. You’ll fit right…in…” I burst into laughter once more as she rolls her eyes and storms back toward my closet.
“Piss off, Green!” She flashes me the middle finger.
We’re over halfway through this impromptu fashion show and so far, everything Hazel has selected either reminds me of chinaware, desserts or something that is completely swallowing her whole.
She’s not bought a single thing that matches her style. She’s trying to reinvent the wheel here when nothing was wrong with it to begin with.
I’m only teasing the way I am because I know she knows I’m joking. Hazel looks beautiful in everything that she’s worn so far, but the thing about clothes is you have to wear them, they can’t wear you.
That’s where we’re stuck right now.
“Don’t be mad.” I catch her before she’s about to step inside. “Surely you’ve got other options to show me, right?”
She sighs. “Only one more dress, and this one you better like because frankly, if you don’t, I have nothing else!”
“I’m sure I will.” I sink further into my pillow as she attempts to pull my closet door shut, though it refuses to close all the way.
“ Ugh …when are you getting this thing fixed?” Hazel asks, struggling with it like I have for weeks. “And how did this even happen?” Finally, she gives up, speaking to me through the crack.
“Next week,” I answer the first part of her question, “and as for the cause of faultiness, I have no idea. I think I might’ve slammed it shut a little too hard? I don’t know. But don’t worry about it, it’s only a slither and you’re nearly done. Now, let’s see this final dress.”
Hazel peers back at me through the crack as I encourage her with a flick of my hands to keep going.
She caves, slumping her shoulders as she turns around and reaches for the next bag.
I look away, diverting my attention toward the memorabilia I’ve placed around my room. It’s minimal, mainly football-related, but now that I look at it, perhaps a nice art piece on the wall would look better instead? Enhance the space. I’ll ask Hazel, she’ll know?—
“ Shit .” The sound of Hazel’s voice startles me as I sit up and peer back toward the closet.
“You okay, Haze?” I call out to her, anxiously waiting for her response.
“Yeah, I just…caught my skin as I was unzipping the dress. I’m okay, though…” she tells me, voice slightly weary. “I’m fine.”
I part my lips to respond, but suddenly I can't.
It feels wrong, but at this moment, through the slither of the door, I watch as Hazel steps out of the teacup dress in nothing but her bra and panties.
The set matches, with its baby pink undertone and lace that lines both the front and back.
Her skin is dimly lit in the faint light of the closet, yet it’s bright enough so that I can see the curvature of her torso, the outline of her cleavage, and the hollows of her collarbones as she brushes her long hair over her shoulder, and steps into the next dress.
I swallow hard, forcing myself to look away, only when I do, to feel an immediate urge to look back.
I fight it.
I have to.
I have no right to be looking at her like this. Sure, I’ve seen her in a swimming costume countless times before, but never have I seen her in such an intimate way.
It feels wrong.
It feels like I’ve just had privy to something that should have never been mine, yet the most conflicting feeling of all? This burning heat inside of me as images of her half-naked body flash through my mind on repeat. Images I never thought I’d see. Never thought I’d imagine. Never thought I’d like as much as I do right now…
“ Green ?” Hazel calls out my name, breaking me free from the escalating thoughts in my mind as I blink rapidly.
“Yeah, Haze?” I choke out, refusing to look back in that treacherous direction until she rushes out of the closet and demands my help.
“I need you to pull up the zipper,” she tells me, turning around quickly so that my eyes are drawn to the bare skin along her spine. She’s managed to pull it up halfway, but still, there’s so much more to go.
“Can you help me?” she requests, looking over her shoulder at me impatiently. “Please? I can’t reach it.”
“I uh…” She stares me down a moment longer before finally, I leap off my bed and make my way toward her. “Yeah… sure .”
She turns back around. “Just grab the zipper and pull it up. It’ll go, it’s just…my arms are too short.”
I step in close, brushing my hands through her hair that’s since fallen back before tucking it over her shoulder. It’s soft— delicate. I let go, releasing her hair as my fingertips brush down her spine in search of the zipper.
It’s a simple gesture, but one that for some reason, feels incredibly intimate. Eventually, I find it and suck in a breath as I grasp it between my fingers. With each inch I pull up, I feel a sense of warmth radiate from her skin onto mine, until I reach the backside of her bra and pause.
Fuck.
“Do you uh—mind?” I gesture toward the label that is impeding the zipper from making its way up.
“No, you can move it,” she responds, her voice soft like her skin as I tuck the label aside, only as I do, my hand momentarily grazes over the lace of her bra, forcing my throat to turn dry as I zip up the rest of the dress and pull my hands back.
I stay still for a moment, assessing her from behind before finally, she speaks up, “Am I good?”
I clear my throat, shaking myself out of it. “You’re good,” I tell her, prompting her to turn around and smile up at me through those long lashes.
“So?” She raises his arms to the side and steps back so that she can be in full view. “What do you think? Is it too much?”
Too much?
Christ.
It’s more than I was expecting in the best way possible.
The dress is a simple; black , with a flowing skirt that stops above her knees. It’s a modest length that just teases the high of her thighs yet… Jesus .
Why am I thinking about her like this?
God dammit, Green.
I can’t stop.
The way the dress sinches around her waist and sits low along her neckline, revealing the faintest bit of cleavage, is downright sending me back to that vision of her in the closet.
What has gotten into me?
“You don’t like it…” Hazel’s face falls flat as she turns on her heel and scurries back toward the closet. “I knew you wouldn’t?—”
“ No .” I stop her, reaching for her wrist as she completely misreads my silence for distaste. There’s nothing distasteful about this. “That’s not it. Not at all, Haze.”
“Then what?” Hazel looks up at me. “Why aren’t you saying anything?
“I just…” I rub along my mouth, trying to find the words. They hit me. “It’s just in that dress, Hazel, you’ve got my attention.”