The Prospect (Crawfield Football Club #3)

17. H A Z E L

SEVENTEEN

H A Z E L

I’m huffing, panting—breathless. The tall grass of the countryside tickles against my calves as I sprint with all of my might. It’s no use. Even at my best, Green is still miles ahead of me.

I don’t remember him being this fast, it must be all of his training over the years, or the fact that he’s easily got six inches on me.

But despite the fact I’m trailing obviously far behind, Green periodically peers back over his shoulder to make sure I’m not too far away. It’s gestures like that, that remind me no one has cared for me like he has, and leaves me to wonder if anyone else ever will.

Coming to the bridge was a whim, I'll admit it, but now that we’re nearly here I don’t regret it one bit. This place is filled with special memories and even more special times.

It was well over a decade ago, but I still remember the day Green and I first discovered this place, and as we sat along the edge of the bridge, the two of us interlocked our pinkies as one and made a promise that we’d never tell anyone else where it was.

“This place is ours and no one else’s.”

I remember once when I was nine years old and I’d just found out that my parents were in talks of moving to Prague. I was practically in hysterics when I broke the news to Green. Yet, at that moment as he rubbed soothingly along my back, he told me that if they decided that they were going to go, that we’d just hide away here forever, where no one else could find us.

Thankfully, my parents' plan fell through, but if I’m being honest, mine and Greens’ plan would have withstood the test of time.

But amongst all the countless memories that this place holds, there’s only one that I’m confident will torture my mind for the rest of eternity— the kiss .

“C’mon, bug !” Green’s playful yet antagonizing voice provokes me as I finally approach the bridge. “The race isn’t over until you touch the side of the brick.”

“What’s the point?” I pant, wiping away the moisture that builds up around my hairline. “You’ve already beat me.”

“Have I?” Green tilts his head, folding his arms confidently along his chest. “Because last time I checked.” He looks back. “I haven’t touched the brick yet.”

My eyes widen and instantly I see his words as a challenge. Without even thinking I sprint forward, pushing him out of the way in the process before I slap my hand onto the brick well before he can.

“I won!” I proudly announce, finding a surge of energy as I jump up and down. “I won. I won. I won.” I stick out my tongue while using my hand to form the letter “L” above my forehead. “Take that, Greenie!”

He rolls his eyes mockfully. “Yeah, yeah, only because you cheated, Haze.”

“I did not!” I protest, hands on my hips.

I totally did.

“Yes you did!”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

And just like that we’re kids again. Seven and nine years old—arguing the way we used to day in and day out.

I once sneakily caught our dad’s mid-discussion, saying that despite bickering like an old married couple, we’d fall in love with one another one day. It was inevitable. Our mum’s would never agree out loud, but deep down I knew they felt the same way. There’s always been something special between Green and I. And no measure of time has ever changed that.

“Fine, you win.” Green steps up onto the ledge of the bridge, extending his hand out to help me up. “Now, c’mon,” he instructs. “Take a big step, clumsy girl. Let’s sit.”

With a gulp, I willingly intertwine our fingers as he helps to pull me up. I wobble slightly as I reach the ledge, prompting Green to place his unwavering hands onto my hips. It helps to steady not only me in place, but the world around me.

He’s always called me “clumsy girl,” because I’ve had one too many scares of falling into the water, though every time I’ve been close, he’s caught me. I know he’d never let me fall—physically, that is.

“Careful,” he instructs as I regain my balance, finally sinking down onto my butt. “You good?” he asks, staring deep into my eyes.

I swallow hard as he releases his grasp. “I’m good.”

The air around us is cold, so cold that I can see my breath as I exhale, but regardless of the dropping temperatures, somehow I feel settled— warm .

Perhaps it’s the lingering heat from all of the running or maybe, it's the result of mine and Green’s thighs pressing against each other.

I don’t need to wonder which is the truth, I know the answer as I adjust myself away from him, creating a small gap. He picks up on it, instantly filling it in response as he tucks me into his side and peers down at me with a somber look.

“What?” I question as his arm gravitates behind me, resting along the brick but secured in a way so that I won’t fall back. “Is there something on my face?” I joke

He smiles faintly and shakes his head. “There’s nothing on your face, Hazel. I’m just…” He exhales a breath. “I’m sorry, that’s all.”

“‘Sorry’?” I repeat. “What are you sorry for?”

“For being moody earlier.” It’s not his words that catch me off guard this time, it’s the way he places a careful hand on my thigh in the process. “I’m not sure what got into me today. I think I’m still just trying to get used to this whole plan. I don’t know, it’s been…different than I had anticipated.”

I try my absolute best to suppress the aching desire that his touch shoots throughout my core and respond. “It’s okay,” I tell him with full certainty. “This thing…it’s new for both of us, Green. We didn’t know how it would pan out or what emotions would come with it. So don’t apologize, it’s fine. Really .”

“So you’re okay then?” he urges.

I raise a brow. “Okay? Why would I not be?” I wonder.

“Well, it’s just when I told my mum and dad about this whole plan, they were worried that you’d be upset that I chose Amira.”

My heart rate suddenly escalates much more than when we were running. It causes me to stumble over my words. “Upset that you chose Amira?” I scoff, trying to undermine how I really feel. “Don’t be so ridiculous, Green. Amira’s great.” I shift beneath myself—I deserve a bloody Oscar right now. “Why wouldn’t you want to be with her? I mean, it’s a no-brainer.”

“That’s exactly what I said!” Green’s enthusiastic agreeability kills me softly without even realizing it. “But the two of them seem to think that if things don’t work out between us, then it's going to affect our friendship. I told them that that would never happen, but I don’t know, I think they’re just worried.”

“Worried about what?”

He frowns. “That I might lose you.” He reaches out to touch my face in a controlled motion. “I guess that’s why I was acting the way I was earlier, Haze. I just…” He goes to say something else but seems to talk himself out of it. “You promise that I’ll never lose you, right?”

I have to blink a few times to try and comprehend not only his question but how within a split second we’ve managed to get this close to one another.

We haven’t been this close in a long time and frankly, his presence is making it impossible for me to think, let alone breathe. It’s like I’m inhaling his air— his oxygen —and if I’m being honest, I don’t mind it. I don’t mind it one bit.

“ Hazel ?” Green snaps me out of my daze as I come back to my senses. “Did you hear what I asked?”

“Yes, sorry,” I tell him, shaking my head ever so softly before looking square in his eyes. “You’ll never lose me,” I whisper. “I promise that that will never happen, Greenie. I promise .”

He stares back at me, and for a while we sit in this comfortable silence as his hand gently brushes back and forth along my cheek. It’s everything I’ve ever wished for until he pulls back.

It doesn’t seem to matter though, for I can still feel his lingering touch, just like how almost a decade later, I can still feel his lips pressed against mine. I don’t know how, but Green has that ability. His touch is like a tattoo, a permanent reminder of a place it was once.

“So…” I break the silence in order to stop my mind from spiraling completely out of control. “Have you and Amira kissed yet?” I blurt out.

My obscure question doesn’t come completely out of nowhere. I know why I’ve asked it. Deep down, asking Green that question only helps to remind me that no matter what false reality I create in my mind, the truth remains the same:

Green’s with Amira, not me .

And I’m with Hart, not him .

“Not yet.” Green shakes his head absentmindedly, and I hate the way that I feel a subliminal sense of relief by those two words.

“No?” I refuse to let up. “Thought maybe you two would’ve at the end of your date the other night? Amira told me you guys went to her favorite place.”

“Not by choice.” Green rolls his eyes. “Besides, Amira had to rush off in a hurry and a forced goodbye kiss was the last thing I would’ve wanted. Why ?” He flashes me an intentful stare. “Have you and Hart kissed already?”

I don’t know what to say—a part of me wants to read into this inquisitive look in his eyes, toy with him a little. What would he say if I told him we had?

Would he care?

Would he want details?

Would he wonder why I hadn’t told him sooner?

The act sounds so enticing, but this prying look on his face reminds me that he knows me too well, he’ll know if I’m lying, therefore instead of altering the truth, I shake my head and bashfully look away.

Things were so much easier when I was the one probing him with the questions.

“I suppose we got close a couple of times,” I admit hastily, only making him clench his jaw in response. “But then he said he doesn’t kiss on the first date.”

My remark pique’s Green’s interest. “Are you sure we’re talking about the same Hart here, Hazel? Hart isn’t the waiting type…”

Green’s right, before we’d ever properly met, Hart had always seemed like a jump in, swim later kind of guy. Consequences never seemed to matter much to him, nor did the speed in which a relationship took off.

But maybe things are changing? Maybe that’s how Hart was in the past, but that’s not how he’s trying to be in the future, and if that’s the case, I suppose all of this is refreshing to hear. I mean, it almost makes me feel like Hart’s serious about me—about us. The thought alone sends a weird shiver through my spine as Green jumps back in.

“You know what? I’m happy to hear he’s taking things slow with you.” Relief washes over his face. “Because if I’m being honest, nothing would frustrate me more if he…”

His sentence loses momentum as he looks away, staring out at the ravine beneath us, before he looks back at me.

“What I’m trying to say is, Hart better be treating you right. He is treating you right. Right, Hazel?”

Like a child being lectured by their parents I look up at him. “Yes, Green. You know I would never settle for anything less. This isn’t Maxwell Thomas all over again, you know.”

Green’s eyes widen and I can’t blame him. I'm doing the same thing as I immediately start to question why in the hell I just said that. Christ. I know why. It’s this Goddamn place. This topic of conversation. This lingering feeling of self-doubt that’s making me expose my innermost thoughts.

“So, you’re thinking back to that day too, huh?” Green recalls with a playful laugh.

My heart forgets to beat as I feel all the color drain from my face. Green takes note of it.

“What?” Green feigns my visible shock. “It’s hard not to think about Hazel. I mean, here we are, back in the same spot, talking about first kisses. It only makes sense.”

I clear my throat to help me speak, but it does nothing, I’m speechless. “I…I’m surprised you even remember,” I remark. “I mean, you told me that you hardly remember any of your first kisses…”

My comment reminds me of Green’s claim at the library a few weeks back, which left my stomach churning all afternoon as I wondered if our kiss meant less to him than I thought.

Green scoffs with narrowed eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. Do you really think I’d ever forget our first kiss, Hazel?” The question comes out as rhetoric. “That’s like me asking you, did you forget what I told you that day? Please tell me you remember.”

“Hazel Collins. You’ll always be the most special girl in the world to me.”

How could I forget?

Of course I remember, but do I tell him that?

No. Why? Because I physically can’t.

I can’t tell Green the reason why I’ve never forgotten the words he once spoke to me is because, from the moment they escaped his lips, they became ingrained in my heart. Instead, I just nod and pretend as though I’m not struggling to breathe. The lack of oxygen in my brain forces me to mutter out more nonsense, “I hope I’m still good at it.”

Why did I just say that?

“Kissing?” Green is quick to counter with, peering down at me over his shoulder with an inquisitive look in his eyes.

“Yeah.” I shrug anxiously. “It’s just…been a long time for me, I suppose.”

“Not since we were last here, I hope.” Green laughs.

I playfully roll my eyes, yet blush almighty. “Of course not, Green.” I swallow. “That would be just downright sad.”

I’ve kissed people. Several people since Green. Does that mean I felt anything? No . Nothing will ever be as comparable to my kiss with him. Sure, how much technique does a twelve and fourteen-year-old have, but that wasn’t what left such a lasting impression.

It was the feeling.

The feeling of home that moment gave to me.

My whole childhood I’d longed for it, and after moving from place to place, I knew I'd found it within Crawley, but when our lips touched for the first time I realized it was never Crawley that granted me that feeling.

It was Green.

It had always been Green.

“I just…” I nervously rub my hands along the fabric of my sleeve. “I hope I’m not rusty, that’s all. I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of Hart. After all, he sounds like he knows what he’s doing…”

Green pauses, pondering a thought of his own before he licks his lips and shifts his body so that he’s facing directly toward me. “Why don’t we test it out then?”

His suggestion makes me feel as though I’ve just fallen off this bridge—maybe I should? Perhaps it would knock some sense into my mind because there's absolutely no way he just proposed that idea.

Kiss me? Again? Is he being serious?

“What?” Green tucks some hair behind my ear. “I mean, there’s only one way to rid yourself free from the rust, Haze. Besides, if I’m being honest, I could use some practice too. You’re not the only one here who’s a bit bent out of shape. This could be good for both of us.”

As my breathing slows, I know in my heart this is a bad idea. I know it is. When Green kissed me when I was twelve, I practically fell in love with him all over again. It took years for the deep ache of not being with him to subside, but now that I’m older— wiser , I know better than to let things get to me. Then to read any more into this. Green’s right, this is nothing more than two platonic friends kissing one another for educational purposes.

Christ, even that sounds ridiculous.

“We don’t have to, if you’re not comfortable.” My silence is enough to make Green immediately revoke the offer and I just about want to curse my name into oblivion.

Do you know how long I’ve wished for this to happen? Craved for it to happen? And now with it being in the palm of my hands, somehow I’ve managed to fuck it all up without saying anything at all.

Say something, Hazel.

“No, no, it’s just…” I lose my train of thought. “I wouldn’t want Amira and Hart to get upset. What if they find out?”

Green looks directly at my lips as he speaks, enticing me beyond belief. “They don’t need to find out.” He brushes along the backside of my palm. “If anything, they’ll probably thank us later given that we’ll iron out any of our kinks… together .”

Fuck .

“Does that sound okay, Hazel?” He seeks reassurance a final time as I run my tongue along my bottom lip in anticipation.

I’m nodding ever so softly before I can even hum out a response, “ Okay …”

“Okay…” He smiles, using the breadth of his hand to tilt my chin upward so that I can reach his lips.

For a moment, rather than jumping right in, he hovers, allowing his breath to tingle against my skin until like magic, he presses his lips against mine.

This kiss is unlike how I once remembered it. This time it’s better—slower and way more passionate. Yet, as Green’s tongue dances along my bottom lip, it reminds me of the exact same feeling it unleashed before.

Butterflies.

The fluttering goes on for the Lord knows how long as Green entangles his hands gently through my hair, combing through my roots, forcing me to lose all sense of time. Frankly, I don’t care if I never see a clock again as his strong hand rests along the back of my neck and pulls me in tight.

I’m in heaven.

“Cherries,” I hear Green murmur against my mouth, yet his tongue continues to press against mine. I debate pulling back to question what he means, but almost immediately drop the thought, instead moaning out inquisitive, “Hm?” in return.

Green doesn’t break the kiss to clarify, he only prolongs it that much more as he slowly mumbles into my mouth, “Nothing, Haze…” We pick up our pace. “It’s nothing.”

As I live out this fantasy, I can’t help but assume that this is practically the definition of pleasure-induced torture, only the worst part? I know the second we pull away from one another, the likelihood of this ever happening again is zero to none.

Once was a surprise.

Twice is a coincidence.

And three times? Well, that would be a downright miracle and Lord knows I stopped believing in those a long time ago.

With that thought in mind, despite everything in me that compels me to continue to lose myself in his touch, I pull back. I have to—it’s the only choice. Pulling back is the only way I can reclaim a sense of power in myself.

For far too long I’ve lived in delusion and if I allow the kiss to carry on, I’m confident delusion is where I will stay forever.

This kiss means nothing.

This kiss was to practice for Hart and Amira—the ones we’re with.

God, why do I have to keep painfully reminding myself of that narrative?

When I finally break free from his mouth I want to speak. I want to say something to summarize what just happened between the two of us, but with that same twinkle in his eyes from the first day we met, Green beats me to it.

“You’ve got nothing to be worried about, my special girl .” He pecks me one more time. “Nothing at all.”