19. H A Z E L
NINETEEN
H A Z E L
The music blares from all the way up the street, the bass projecting like the thudding in my chest as we inch our way down the sidewalk.
“Don’t the neighbors complain about all the noise?” I struggle to walk in the heels Amira insisted I wear, trudging my way forward carefully so that I don’t trip up.
“The bylaw says that you can make as much noise as you want until eleven, and last time I checked…” Amira peers down at her phone screen before flashing it in my direction. “It’s only nine.”
The fact doesn’t ease me one bit as I look around, worried that at any moment a stranger will come rushing out of their house with a fist in the air and a blittering remark about “You kids these days have no respect,” and somehow, in the spiral that is my mind, I’ll be the one that gets in trouble for it.
“Oh, get out of that imaginative head of yours and live a little, Hazel.” Amira snaps her fingers in front of my face. “You do realize you’re only young once, right?”
“Thanks for the reminder.” I flash her a playful roll of my eyes until the pathway to move forward becomes much trickier to navigate. There seems to be an influx of people lingering ahead, and from what I can gather, the party has somehow migrated outward across the lawn with the front door wide open as people make their way in and out.
Right off the bat, I recognize a few faces. Amira had mentioned that most of the attendees tonight were mainly those in their final year at uni, but what she failed to mention was that they’d all be in attendance…
“How many people are supposed to be at this thing?” I can’t help but wonder, losing track of how many new faces continue to make their presence known.
Amira shrugs nonchalantly as if this is a routine for her. “I don’t know, maybe a hundred? Hundred and fifty?” she guesses as she scans through the crowd. “Just a small gathering. Nothing major.”
“‘A small gathering’?” My eyes widen. “‘Nothing major’? Are you even allowed to have this many people at a house party?”
“Can you relax?” Amira places a firm hand on my shoulder, stopping us both in place. “It’s not like it’s your house, Hazel, and besides, who knows where the night might take you. You might not even be here for long. You might very well be asked to leave...”
“‘To leave’?” Her words force my brows to crease in question. What does she mean ‘to leave’? I’ve never been escorted out of anywhere in my life. I know I got a little too drunk last time I came to one of these things, but let me tell you, I’m not the menacing drunk type. I’m the spill-your-guts type.
Clearly.
“Yes, leave …” Amira continues to enunciate the word. “You know to…” Amira’s sentence may trail off, but her stare only narrows in that much more on my face as she waits for me to catch onto what she’s evidently attempting to allude to.
It takes me a second, but finally, it clicks as I forcibly gulp back and turn into a brighter shade of red than a cherry tomato. I’ve never left anywhere with anyone. I’ve barely gotten past second base?—
“Do you know that you’re so fun to tease?” Amira bursts into an abundance of laughter.
I find this less than humorous as I rub my clammy palms against my skinny jeans and nervously look away.
“Loosen up, Hazel. Tonight’s all about having fun. You remember all the tips and tricks I told you about when it comes to guys, right?”
I nod with some reluctance. Amira has spent the last four years explicitly outlining each and every detail of her sexual encounters to me in an attempt to teach me her top tips and tricks. It’s been helpful, to an extent, especially considering my experience in that department is zero to none.
I’d never tell her that though—for all she knows, I lost my virginity in year twelve to a guy who, to this day, remains unnamed.
Why?
Because he doesn’t exist.
I don’t know which would be more embarrassing. Outright telling Amira I’m a virgin or admitting that before her spiels, everything I’d learned about sex had come from spicy romance novels, and let me tell you, she’s got absolutely nothing on those…
“Anyway…” Amira peers back down at her phone, segwaying into the next topic while I try to erase my thoughts away from mine. “The guys are here.” She tucks her phone back into her bag. “They're coming outside to meet us now!”
“Now?” I feel an immediate sense of panic kick in as I quite literally start psychoanalyzing each and every detail about myself. “Okay—uh, how do I look? Are you sure my makeup is okay? Is my outfit too much? Too little? Or how about?—”
“ Hazel ,” Hart’s loud voice projects not only over top of the blaring music but triumphs over my escalating thoughts as I peer back at him over my shoulder.
“ Hart ,” I mumble his name beneath my breath as I take him into view. He’s dressed casually, wearing a jumper and dark wash pants. The outfit is muted, but it's in his favor. It draws your eyes toward his face, the star of the show.
Since we’ve grown acquainted with one another, Hart’s grown out his facial hair. What once started as some stubble has now transitioned into a golden beard along his jawline. It’s trim and well-kept and has left me wondering time and time again how it would feel nestled against my?—
“How are you, pretty girl?” Hart cuts my wandering imagination short as he leans in with that familiar, intoxicating scent and plants a tender kiss on my cheek.
I swallow before I speak, given that he’s wasted no time in finding my hand and intertwining it with his own, now rubbing small circles onto my palm to alleviate the tension.
“I’m good,” I tell him. “I’m…” Lost in his touch . “Really good, thanks.”
Hart smirks down at me with the faintest laugh. “Well, that’s… good .” The repetition of this same mundane word is as cheesy as it is flirtatious. It’s clear he sees my awkwardness as downright adorability—at least that’s what the look on his face is telling me, that and that, as usual, I look “fucking stunning.”
Hart’s undeniable confidence when it comes to complimenting me only makes me shy away that much more. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it.
“Really, Hazel. You look beautiful.” He keeps the compliments going. “You do.”
I peer down at myself. Sure, I’m not dressed to the nines like Amira, but what I’m wearing is me, through and through. Jeans, a tank, and a comfortable dress shirt paired over top. But even despite my comfort, the self-doubt inevitably finds a way to kick in.
“You think?” I ask, internally scolding myself thereafter.
I promised I’d never be one of those girls who based their looks on a man’s opinion, and I’m not. I know I look good, but maybe deep down, I just wanted to be told again…
Sue me.
“I don’t think, Hazel. I know .” Hart speaks in absolution as his eyes scan me up and down, and as he does, I swear the music quiets, the crowd lessens, and all at once, it feels like it’s just… us .
It’s a strange feeling to describe, but one I know they’d accurately be able to portray in a movie with a hummed soundtrack and faded background. But with all that said, nothing quite mutes the world like when I finally look across the way to see that Amira has disappeared into Green’s embrace.
Now, as I stand here, there’s no music.
There’s no people.
It’s just the three of us.
Somehow, it feels like Hart’s not even here anymore.
It feels like I’m all alone, watching the two of them nestled as one and, worse, silently wishing that it was me in her place instead.
I shake my head, the desire leading me to subconsciously clutch onto Hart’s hand as I pull him into my side. It helps to block them from my line of vision, but it’s no use. I’ve already caught Green’s eye as he greets me with a faint nod of his head.
It’s the first time I’m seeing him since earlier this week and I don’t know why the first part of him that I look at is his lips…
“Haze,” he calls out my name, forcing my eyes up. Only when I finally meet them his start to wander.
Rather than looking back at me, he’s peering down at the way mine and Hart’s hands are clasped together. The smile that once lit up his face now washes away, and as I go to mentally dissect the intentful look in his eyes, Amira draws him in—whispering something seductive into his ear. I know this because as she pulls back, giggling like a mess, Green’s once intentful frown is replaced with a smitten look of sexual mischief.
“Let’s get you inside.” Hart gestures for us to step into the house. “I don’t want you to catch a cold now.” He runs his warm hand up and down my arm—I hadn’t realized I had goosebumps, though the cold isn’t the cause of them.
“Yeah—you’re right.” I snap my head back up in his direction, tucking some loose strands of hair behind my ear. “Let’s go inside. Are you two, uh—going to join us?” I can’t help but ask Amira and Green the question before I take a step forward.
The two exchange a mutual look, but rather than focusing on Amira, I’m more fixated on the way that I can see the word “yes” lingering on Green’s lips, but before he can say it, Amira answers on his behalf.
“We’re gonna hang outside for a bit,” she remarks. “Catch up with you guys later?” she suggests, slinging her arms around Green’s neck as she draws him in closer.
“Sure thing.” Hart pulls on my hand before I have to read into the gesture. “Have fun, you two.” He flashes them a playful wink of his eye. The suggestive remark makes my stomach churn, but not more than when Amira responds by calling out, “Oh, we will,” leaving me to swallow deeply as I’m guided up the stairs and into the house.
“We most certainly will.”
“There were no more ciders, so I thought maybe you’d like a spritzer instead?” Hart hands me a cup filled with the fizzing liquid as he re-sinks himself into the couch cushion beside me, wrapping his long arm along the back of the couch in a not-so-subtle attempt to scoot in closer.
I don’t mind.
There’s a sense of comfort that comes from Hart’s proximity, especially given the fact that out of everyone in this crowded room, he’s the only one I know remotely anything about.
I don’t do crowds—it’s a pet peeve. I only tough it out at the games because of Green, who, for the record, has been nowhere to be seen all night long.
We texted earlier about tonight and by texting, it was mainly me asking him about the probability of backing out last minute without anyone noticing. The odds were not in my favor, leaving the remainder of our conversations to be a reassuring fest on Green’s part.
He said we’d stick together, that tonight would be a double date, but with each second that passes by, I’ve come to the conclusion that he’s either forgotten completely about me or is too caught up with Amira to remember I exist.
I don’t know which hurts more.
“A spritzer is great, thank you.” I bring the cup up toward my lips, an action that Hart mimics with his own, though he’s assured me that as the DD tonight, he's strictly sticking to water.
“Once you’re done with that, Hazel, I’ve been granted special orders to get you a glass of water next.”
I half laugh, confused beyond belief. “A glass of water?” I repeat back. “What on earth are you talking about, Hart?”
Hart shifts his body so that he’s directly facing me, and with his weight dipping into the cushion of the couch, my body only sinks in that much closer to him.
“Green told me to keep you hydrated,” he explains in all seriousness. “I think he’s worried you’re going to pass out or something.”
My eyes practically roll to the back of my head. “Green’s a total hypochondriac,” I protest, though deep down, I can’t help but secretly love the way that his concern has left my stomach tingling. “That was one time on New Year's Eve, after downing like four shots. Besides, I think Green forgets I am more than capable of taking care of myself.”
“He’s just worried about you. That’s all.” To my surprise, Hart comes rushing to Green’s defense. “But you’re right, he doesn’t need to.” He raises both hands into the air. “Like you said, you can handle your own battles, Hazel and besides, he should know that I’d never let anything happen to you.”
The tingles from before now transform into a full-on fit of butterflies, fluttering their wings without a care as my hands start to tremble and to make matters worse, Hart’s smooth talk doesn’t cease to stop.
“You know, Hazel, I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately,” he admits, running his thumb along the soft side of my cheek.
“You have?” I hum in response. I don’t think I have it in me to say anything much else. Hart’s touch is so paralyzing and riveting at the same time, I’m surprised I was even able to spit that out.
“I have,” he confesses, running his tongue along his bottom lip. “I mean, it’s been kind of hard not to. Every time I go to my station at the clubhouse, I’m reminded of you . You know, I still can’t believe that you painted that picture for me. Honestly, I’m in awe every time I look at it. You have a gift, Hazel. Seriously. ”
I’m flush in the face as I accept his compliment, trying my best to process what to say back to him, but sometimes diverting is the only way to cope—and so, diversion becomes my new guilty pleasure.
“Hey, you’re not too shabby of an artist yourself,” I remark.
Hart tilts his head in confusion.
“What?” I laugh, flashing him a look. “Have you already forgotten about your rock? I mean, it’s got a perfect spot on my shelf. It’s wholeheartedly been my muse these days.”
Hart playfully nudges my shoulder with a roll of his eyes. “You’re hilarious,” he remarks sarcastically. “A true comedian. You know that?”
As we laugh, I get lost in the ocean of his blue eyes. I guess I'd never quite noticed just how pigmented they were, but now, as I stare deep into them, all I can think about is what blue has to offer.
Blue means trust, peace, reliability and most of all, security. It’s like Hart’s eyes are a direct reflection of the traits that make up the man he is today. Yet, even despite the cool tone of his orbs, those two eyes hold the power to heat up anyone with a single flash.
Since we walked into this party together, everyone’s eyes have been fixated upon him, and if I’m being honest, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been listening in on some of the not-so-subtle gushing remarks that have been made.
“Is that the Crawfield player?”
“Holy shit, he’s fit.”
“Where can I get myself one?”
“Christ, I’d love to spend five minutes alone in a room with him.”
I would’ve thought that the remarks would’ve left me doubtful—like, who am I in retrospect to him? But given that Hart hasn’t once looked in anyone else's direction all night long, the only thing I’m left with is this egotistical sense of pride as this cloud-nine feeling circles through my mind, all the while, the looming response to his question from earlier lingers in the air and before I know it, the words, “And you’re gorgeous. Did you know that?” fall out of my mouth.
Holy mother of crap, why did I just say that?
And it’s not just me that’s thinking it, it’s Hart too, with his reddening cheeks and wandering stare.
“Oh my gosh, I—don’t know why I just said that…” I’m so embarrassed that I start to frantically search for my bag, ready to make a beeline out of this room to escape from this embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, do you mind just excusing me—” I quickly rise to my feet, only the second I do, I collide with someone else—a man who once held two cups of lager in his hand that has now found its way all over me.
Fuck.
“Hazel!” Hart is quick to rush to my aid as he pushes back the guy, who, rather than checking to see if I’m alright, has gone totally off on me.
“Hey, princess. Word of advice, why don’t you watch where you’re bloody going!” he shouts.
I wince at his words as I reach for some paper towels, attempting to pat down the liquid as it soaks through the fabric of my jeans.
I look like I’ve just wet my pants.
Great.
“Oi, dickhead!” Hart catches the man’s attention as he walks away—his voice so loud and commanding that I swear the whole room quiets down in response. “Word of advice. How about you fuck off and stop being such a prick.”
Not only does the room erupt into a series of “ooo’s,” but some even cower in themselves, given that Hart’s remark is followed by an intimidating scowl and flash of his middle finger.
The guy stumbles out of sight in fear, scurrying like a mouse. Once he’s gone, Hart turns to face me, ignoring the frightened looks around him as he helps to dry off my skin.
“You alright, love?” His once angered voice is now tender—concerned as he tilts my chin upward to look up at him. It’s difficult to maintain eye contact. I feel like I’ve just made the biggest fool out of myself, but the longer I look at him, the more I start to realize he doesn’t seem to care.
I shake my head softly—I almost feel like I have to laugh at just how ridiculous this whole thing is.
“I guess Green forgot to tell you that I’m a total klutz, huh?” I shake some moisture away from my palms with a smirk.
Hart bites down on his bottom lip to suppress a smile. “He might’ve mentioned that in confidence. But don’t you worry about that, okay? C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.” He reaches for my elbow, encouraging me to follow. “I heard someone say that there’s a bathroom upstairs. Maybe there’s a towel we can use? Or a dryer we can find?—”
“Do you mind if we just go back to my dorm room quickly?” I propose, feet planted firmly in place. “It’s not far, and I think I’d be much more comfortable in something…” I peer down at my soaking wet body. “ Dry .”
Agreeable to the idea, Hart extends his hand out, waiting for me to grasp. “Say no more. If back to your dorm room is where you want to go, then that’s where we’ll go, Hazel.”
“Thank you.” I exhale a sigh of relief, reaching out to intertwine our hands as one as he paves our way toward the front entrance. Once we do, my teeth instantly start to chatter, given that my outfit is practically doused in liquor.
Hart’s quick to respond as he removes his jacket and wraps it along my shoulders, draping me in his warmth. “You wait inside, okay? I’ll bring the car around and come back to get you.”
“It’s okay. I can walk…with you.” The chattering intensifies with each word. “I’m…fine.”
Hart flashes me a stern look. “Wait inside, Hazel,” he urges. “I won’t be long. I promise you.”
There’s no time to debate as he dashes down the stairs this time, quickly falling out of sight and in the direction of his car.
I sigh in defeat, using the time to snuggle in closer to his jacket before turning on my heel to head back inside. Only when I do, I’m completely caught off guard by what I see.
Pinned up against the brick of the house is none other than a mop of long dark hair, even longer legs, and a red dress that I could easily spot from a mile away. Yet, the most recognizable part? The frame that supports her up.
Green.
I suppose my hypothesis from earlier is no longer just that. It’s a fact. The reason why I haven’t seen Green all night is because he’s been too preoccupied with Amira.
The two seem to be warming each other up with the presence of their touch, but it’s not that I’m thinking about right now. It’s the fact that Green has now tackled step three.
I shouldn’t be surprised. I knew that was the objective of tonight and besides, I’ve seen Green kiss other girls before, I have. This isn’t new to me, but in the past, it had always been just a peck or a quick snog. Never have I ever seen him so deeply intoxicated by someone else.
The two move in sync, like a routine they’ve been practicing for months. Amira’s hands are carefully wrapped around the back of Green’s neck while his securely clutch onto her waist as he deeply buries himself into the nape of her neck.
I gulp as I watch Amira’s eyes roll to the back of her head, moaning in delight as she presses herself into him.
When it looks as though Green is about to come up for air, I start assuming that they’re done, only I’m wrong. Rather than a breath, he uses the time as an opportunity to whisper something into her ear.
I don’t know what he says, but whatever he does, it practically makes Amira squeal beyond belief.
Oh, how I wish I could be a fly on the wall.
Oh, how I wish I was?—
“You ready to go?” Hart catches me off guard as he places a comforting hand on my shoulder.
For whatever reason, I don’t immediately respond. I want to, but I can’t. All I can do is see the picture of Amira and Green looping through my mind.
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.