The Prospect (Crawfield Football Club #3)

11. G R E E N

ELEVEN

G R E E N

“No plans with Hazel today?” Mum asks, standing behind an assortment of flowers, her face barely visible as she arranges an oversized bouquet.

“Not today,” I tell her, scouring the shop for something perfect—something not too grand but a bit better than your average assortment of flowers.

Hazel tells me that flowers are a classic, yet sorta basic romantic gesture for step two. But what can I say? I’m a classic man. I think flowers are beautiful. I’ve thought that my entire life, though I’ve had no other choice, given that my parents have owned a florist shop longer than I’ve been alive— Green’s Greenery , get it?

Mum started working at the shop when she was in secondary school and shortly after she graduated, she was offered the opportunity to partner with the shop's owner, who just so happened to be my dad’s mum.

A love story, two kids and twenty-five years later, here we are, with me filtering through our annual selection in hopes of starting a love story of my own.

I’m too indecisive though, I have no idea what to pick. All I know is that roses are too formal and carnations are too lowkey.

I stare down at my phone, hopeful that Hazel would’ve finally answered my plethora of desperate questions by now:

What flowers should I get?

Does the color matter?

Does Amira have a preference?

Is white too wedding-like?

No answer and it’s strange.

Hazel always responds.

Why isn’t she responding?

Is she okay?

“Need some help?” Mum appears by my side, relieving my worry as I tuck my phone into my back pocket and nod.

She smiles, guiding me over to the other side of the shop where a fresh bundle of flowers has recently been delivered. “I’ll tell you what.” Mum individually picks the stems one by one. “I’ll make you a custom bouquet if you tell me what they’re for.”

Mum’s always been a little sneaky, aka nosy, but deep down I know she’s got good intentions. She only wants what’s best for me, just like any Mum should.

“I’m going on a date.” I join her at her workstation as she cuts the flowers length, arranging them in a pattern on the table.

“A date?” She might not lift her head up from the task at hand, but that doesn’t mean her voice doesn’t inflate with interest. “That’s fun. And who's the lucky lady, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Hazel’s roommate,” I reveal point-blank, only this time my revelation is enough to stop Mum in place and force her to jolt her head up.

“‘Hazel’s roommate?’” she repeats back to me with narrowed almost judgemental eyes. “You’re seriously going on a date with Hazel’s roommate?”

“Who’s going on a date with Hazel’s roommate?” Dad steps into the shop, prompting the bells to chime thereafter as he carries in another box of today’s shipment.

“Daniel is.” Mum gestures toward me whilst holding a pair of pruning shears.

It’s only slightly terrifying.

“And how exactly did that happen?” Dad wonders, now seemingly inserting himself into the conversation. “Did Hazel introduce the two of you? Oh, how is she by the way?” he digresses. “Last I saw her, she was telling me she had a big art project coming up, did she get it done?”

Without needing to hook both of my parents up to a lie detector to find out, I know for a fact that they love Hazel more than they love me. I’m not offended—okay, maybe a little…

“It’s coming along nicely,” I tell him. “Only a few more details she needs to add and then?—”

“Excuse me?” Mum interrupts, frustrated by the fact that Dad just gave me an easy escape away from his question. “Can we get back on track here, please? Daniel , do you really think it’s a good idea that you’re dating Hazel’s roommate? What if things don’t work out? Won’t that make things uncomfortable for our Hazel?”

Our Hazel.

“Mum, relax.” I hate the look of worry ridden all over her face. “Things will be fine. This is all just a part of the plan.”

“I’m sorry? ‘The plan?’” Now it’s Dad who’s repeating my words back to me. “What plan are you on about?”

I lean back against the spine of the chair and stretch myself out. “It’s no big deal, really,” I tell them. “It’s just, Hazel and I decided that we’d both had enough of being single and I suggested that maybe we could set one another up with someone of our choosing.”

“And you chose Hazel’s roommate?” Mum looks me dead in the eyes. “Of all of the people, Daniel, you chose the person Hazel has to live with. Every. Single. Day.”

“She chose Hart!” I retaliate, feeling attacked by their mutually unamused looks. “What’s the big deal anyway?” I argue. “We’re just trying to look out for one another.”

“Oh, Daniel.” Mum places her head into her hands before shaking it off and refocusing her attention back down on the bouquet.

“There’s nothing to be upset about.” I can’t stop fighting this. “Both Hazel and I decided to do this together, and so far, it’s working! We’re already both on step two.”

“There’s steps?” Dad asks. I refuse to respond. Instead, a silence passes between the three of us, and now, all I can hear is the sound of Mum continuing to cut the ends off the flowers, the bouquet slowly coming together.

“ Son .” Dad places a fatherly hand on my shoulder. “I think your mum and I are just worried because Hazel is your best friend. We don’t want anything to come in between that.”

“Why would it?” I protest, rising to my feet. “Hazel isn’t going anywhere, ever. I don’t know why you both are being so unreasonable about this. You know what? Just forget I ever mentioned anything.”

I gather my things, about ready to storm out of the shop as a result of their interrogation, only Mum’s voice stops me before I do.

“Daniel, wait!” she calls out.

With my jacket in my hand I stop in place, only don't turn around.

“Come back, please,” she pleads. “We’re sorry. We didn’t mean to overstep and be the antagonizing parents. Just…” I hear her sigh. “At least let me finish this bouquet for you. Will you?”

My shoulders drop as I release a breath, turn around, and make my way back over, sinking into my chair in defeat as I reach for my phone.

Still no response from Hazel.

“So, can you tell us more about her then?” Mum requests.

“About who?” I don’t look up from my screen. I’m too busy filtering through all the possibilities as to why Hazel hasn’t gotten back to me.

Is her phone dead?

“Your date,” Mum clarifies, prompting me to peel my eyes away from the phone and up toward her. “What’s her name?”

“Amira,” I tell the two of them. “Amira Adel. She’s the same age as Hazel, so two years younger. She’s in a dramatic arts program and she’s super outgoing, bubbly, and really is just the life of the party.”

Mum nods, a smile on her lips. She seems impressed. “Do you have a picture of her?” she asks, her eyes wandering toward my phone.

I nod, gulping down any reservations as I pull up a photo of both Amira and Hazel on Hazel’s Instagram. I refuse to take any chances of it being on Amira’s page. Mum and Dad might accidentally double tap and that…I don't want to have to explain.

“Wow, she’s absolutely beautiful,” Mum remarks with a smile ridden along her face.

It’s true.

Amira is beautiful.

In this particular photo, she’s got her hair pin straight, down to her waist, as she sports a gorgeous purple gown. If I’m not mistaken, I think this photo was snapped at a gala event not too long ago for all the students in the art’s department.

I only remember because Hazel sent me a picture of her that night in the same baby blue dress she wears besides Amira in the photo. She was so nervous that night, rambling on and on about how one of her pieces was up for an award.

She won.

I never had any doubt.

“Your Mum is right,” Dad agrees once I pull the phone back. “Amira’s a pretty girl, but I still don’t quite understand how the other person in that picture hasn’t caught your eye by now.”

“ Jude ,” Mum growls his name in a low, drawn-out voice, prompting him to raise both of his hands in defense.

“What?” Dad reaches down to pick up the boxes once more. “It’s true, Emily. I’m just saying what you’re too afraid to,” he remarks, brushing past me as he makes his way toward the back. “Have a good date, son,” he calls out. “Oh, and do me a favor, tell Hazel to stop by when she has the chance. I want her to take on a new wall mural.”

I want to nod, but all I can do is rub my eyes to stop myself from saying the same three words that I have for years. “We’re just friends.” But no matter how many times I say it, everyone refuses to believe it.

Perhaps because deep down it’s true. Hazel and I aren’t ‘just friends,’ we’re more than that. We’re not boyfriend and girlfriend, sure, but we’re somewhere in between, in the most platonic way possible.

Though, I’d love for someone to explain to me why I still can’t seem to remove not only the image of her in my bedroom last week from my mind, but the way she lit up after Hart kissed her on the cheek…

It made me turn cold— frustrated . I’ve tried not to think about it much, but the task has proven impossible. It’s just lingering in the back of my mind, even though I know it shouldn’t.

I need to snap out of it. I need to get my head in the game. After all, I’m about to surprise Amira with these flowers.

Sort your shit out, Green.

“Oh, don’t get worked up about him.” Mum rolls her eyes, but it doesn’t seem to matter. I know from just her face alone that she agrees with Dad, she just doesn’t want to hurt my feelings by admitting it. “Enjoy your date, Daniel.” She hands me the most extraordinary bouquet. There’s a reason why she’s the best in the business. “And don’t forget to have fun,” she reminds me, brushing past my arm before she joins my dad in the backroom.

I peer down at the bundle of flowers once more, though as I do I can’t help but feel like something is missing, and so as I make my way out of the shop, I snag a specific flower from the display and tuck it into my grasp.

“ Better. ”

It takes a few knocks before Amira comes to the door and I can’t help but know why. I could hear the music that blares out from her room all the way down the hallway.

I guess that explains Hazel's obscure purchase of noise-canceling headphones on our Amazon account we share…

“Green?” Amira’s eyes light up once she sees me, turning around momentarily to tell her smart device to lower the music. “Hey! What are you doing here?” Her face is full of surprise.

“I wanted to bring you these.” I pull the bouquet out from behind me, placing them within her grasp as she uses her body to hold open the door.

“ Green… ” she says my name so tenderly that it slowly melts my heart. “Thank you so much. Awh, you seriously didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, I wanted to,” I tell her. “Just like I want to take you out on a date tonight. Are you up for it?”

Excitedly she nods, but stares down at her outfit. She’s wearing nothing but a sports bra and shorts, it looks like she just got back from the gym.

“Do you mind giving me a few minutes?” She opens the door fully, pulling me inside and gesturing for me to take a seat onto her bed as she races toward her dresser.

“Of course. That’s no problem.”

I’ve only ever been inside Hazel’s dorm room a handful of times. It’s so small that anytime the two of us want to hang out, we always just end up going back to my place. But now being here and having a moment to look around, I can see just how much work Hazel put into making this space her own.

There’s art everywhere—so much art that it’s even taken over Amira’s side of the room…

“Hazel did a great job decorating, didn’t she?” Amira catches my watchful gaze and smiles, reaching for a towel.

“She always does.” I smile in return, yet with the mention of her name out loud my mind can’t help but wonder where that key missing detail is. “Hey, uh—where is Hazel?” I call out to Amira right before she enters the bathroom

“She didn’t tell you?” Amira tilts her head to the side, before stepping in to get dressed.

I stand up, scribbling a message onto a loose scrap paper before I secretly place that and what I’d snagged from the shop under Hazel’s pillow. “Tell me what?” I wonder.

Amira steps out of the bathroom in a show-stopping piece and fuck, it hits me hard, but somehow not harder than when she says…

“Hart asked her out on a date.”