15
Campbell
The trendy bistro buzzed with energy, its modern décor and dim lighting giving it an upscale but approachable vibe. I sat at the spacious table, distracted between Nevaeh’s relentless chatter and Nate’s occasional quips. Across from me, Hazel sat, a subtle contrast to the animated energy of the group. She shifted her fork through the pasta on her plate, creating a delicate swirl but never lifting it to her mouth.
Plates of food filled the table—steaming bowls of pasta, vibrant salads, and grilled entrees. Nevaeh gestured with her fork as she recounted a story, her words spilling over into my ears without landing. My attention had drifted to Hazel, her careful movements telling a story louder than words. Nate leaned toward her, showing something on his phone. Hazel smiled, her lips curving upward, and declined his offer to try his dish with a murmur about not being hungry.
I frowned, the crease in my brow deepening as I watched her. She wasn’t just uninterested in the food, there was something else. It reminded me too much of my mom’s strained smiles at Dad’s events, the way she’d push food around her plate to avoid scrutiny. When the laughter at the table rose, I leaned closer to Hazel, keeping my voice low and steady.
“Not feeling this place? Or is the food not your thing?”
She startled, her wide eyes snapping at me as if I had caught her.
“No, it’s fine,” she blurted, her voice soft. “I’m not that hungry.”
Her gaze dropped back to her plate, and I let my silence stretch for a moment, watching her fingers fidget with the handle of her fork. I considered pressing her but decided against it. Instead, I opted for a lighter touch.
“You sure?” I asked, tipping my head and glancing at her dish. “You ordered the best thing on the menu. Or do I need to check if the waiter cursed your plate?”
Hazel blinked at me, her lips twitching upward despite herself.
“That’s not a thing.” She said, her voice holding the faintest trace of amusement.
I leaned back, picking up my fork.
“You’d be surprised,” I said with a shrug, spearing a bite of her pasta and popping it into my mouth. “But hey, if you’re not hungry, no big deal. At least let me help you taste-test it. Quality control.”
She let out a soft laugh, and the stiffness in her shoulders eased a fraction.
“You’re ridiculous.” She muttered, shaking her head.
I noticed her grip on the fork tightened, as if she was debating whether to lift it to her mouth. I leaned in again, my tone casual but carrying an edge of gentle encouragement.
“Tell you what—I’ll make you a deal. You take one bite, and I’ll stop stealing your food. Fair?”
Hazel hesitated, her eyes darting to mine before dropping to her plate. I briefly considered her refusal; however, she hesitantly sampled the pasta. I didn’t make a big deal of it, didn’t cheer or tease her further. But the slight upward tug of my lips told her I’d noticed. I returned my attention to my plate, spearing a piece of grilled chicken.
“See? That wasn’t so hard,” I said, throwing her a quick grin. “Besides, if you leave that plate untouched, I’m going to eat it all and coach will have my ass.”
Hazel rolled her eyes; however, amusement flickered within. She took another, bigger bite, and my chest relaxed, though I didn’t let it show. The conversation around the table flowed on, and I joined in, laughing at Nevaeh’s antics and Nate’s dry humor. But my attention stayed attuned to Hazel. I noticed the way her movements became less tentative, the way her posture softened with each passing moment. It wasn’t much—a minor victory, hardly perceptible to anyone else. But to me, it was enough.
I watched her for a moment longer, the laughter and chatter around the table fading as my focus narrowed. I always excelled at reading people, picking up on their unspoken body language and gestures. But not with Hazel. There was something in the way she hid behind her quiet demeanor.
I shifted, my knee grazed hers as I pulled back, but not enough to break the connection. It was subtle, but I couldn’t shake the feeling it meant something. The brief touch left a lingering warmth, a pull that surprised me. It was an unfamiliar feeling. We continued talking, yet I was lost in thought, replaying our recent exchange. She didn’t pull away. She didn’t even acknowledge it.
“You’re quiet tonight, Campbell.” Nevaeh said, breaking me from my thoughts.
Her voice was teasing, like she caught me zoning out. I glanced at her and gave a noncommittal shrug.
“Just thinking.” I whispered, though I’m not sure if that was the truth.
It was more like I was trying to make sense of the strange little spark that flickered between me and Hazel when our knees had brushed. Nevaeh gave me a look, half suspicious, half playful.
“Thinking about me?” She asks with a grin, amused by the thought.
“No.”
She raised an eyebrow, as if she didn’t believe me, but she didn’t press further. I refocused on Hazel, watching as she picked at her food again, half-listening to the conversation. My eyes wouldn’t leave her, admiring how composed she seemed amid everything around everything was intriguing, and that was the issue. Someone before had never intrigued me. I felt overwhelmed; the moment extended beyond its natural length. It was an uncomfortable feeling, one that had me second-guessing every word.
Hazel met my gaze, and for just a second, our eyes locked. She blinked, her lips parted, seeming to speak, then silence returned. She turned back to Nate, and my stomach tightened. A fleeting, yet genuine, unspoken message resided in her look. The laughter around the table resumed, but my attention was still on her, still caught in that brief, electric moment we shared. I couldn’t pinpoint the feeling’s source, but Hazel’s behavior was unusual.
**
As we stepped outside the restaurant, the crisp fall air bit at our skin, the chill of the night seeping through our coats. Hazel tucked her arms across her chest, her posture a little too stiff as she tried to ward off the cold. She didn’t say a word, didn’t even shiver. But I saw it. She was cold, and it bothered me more than it should have. Before I responded, Nate’s playful voice filled the air.
“Here, take this.” He said, and without waiting for Hazel to object, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders with a smile that made my blood run cold.
Hazel looked up at Nate, her face softening in gratitude, her cheeks flushed either from the chill or the attention.
“Thanks, Nate. You didn’t have to.”
Nate grinned.
“What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t?” He asked, his voice light and teasing.
The satisfaction in his tone was clear, and it made my jaw tighten, an involuntary flicker of irritation racing through me. It’s just a jacket, I thought. The way she gazed at him, with her doe eyes. I shook off the thought, trying to push it away. I focused on Nevaeh’s babbling, but none of it registered. My mind drifted to Hazel. She was wearing Nate’s jacket like it was a second skin. And I got fucking annoyed at the way she melted under his attention.
As we walked down the street, I fell back, drifting to Hazel’s side. She didn’t notice me, too caught up in the jacket's warmth. I gazed down, seeing her smallness in Nate’s oversized coat. Looking up, she strained her neck. I raised an eyebrow, ensuring my voice stayed casual, but there was a sharper edge to it.
“You’re still cold?” I asked, my gaze flickering down to her arms wrapped around herself.
Hazel nodded, pulling the jacket tighter around her.
“A little. Nate was just being nice.”
I stared at her for a moment, watching as she pulled the jacket tighter. Something about the tone of her voice made something inside me twist. My voice dropped.
“How nice. Maybe next he’ll offer to carry you home, too?”
Her eyes flicked to me, a flash of confusion crossing her face as she frowned, the edge of annoyance creeping into her expression.
“What’s your problem?”
I didn’t flinch, keeping my smirk steady.
“I don’t have one.” I said, my tone sharp. “Just seems like you’re getting cozy with my best friend.”
She glared at me, narrowing her eyes.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said, but I noticed her shoulders stiffen.
The remaining walk involved idle chatter, yet I felt uneasy. Whenever Nate talked to Hazel, it felt like a challenge I knew I should ignore, but couldn’t. I knew it was ridiculous. They just met. I couldn’t seem to stop myself from glancing over at them.
We huddled on the curb, waiting for the ride to take us back to campus. The chilly air made the tension even more palpable, and I stepped closer to Hazel without thinking. I was barely aware of it, but when I was close enough, I looked down at her, my eyes tracing the silhouette of her face as she stood there, listening to Nevaeh and Nate talk. I couldn’t help myself.
“You look ridiculous in that jacket, by the way.”
The words felt accusatory. I’m not sure why I said it. Maybe it’s because I wanted to clear up that it was not her jacket. Hazel looked up at me, her brow furrowed in irritation.
“What’s wrong with it?” She asked, a defensive edge to her voice.
I smirked, leaning in just a little, my gaze dropping to her and staying there longer than it should have.
“It’s not your style,” I said, my words deliberate, teasing. “Doesn’t suit you. But if you wanted one, you could’ve just asked me.”
She blushed, then averted her gaze.
“Oh, please,” she scoffed, trying to brush me off. “I need nothing from you.”
My gaze didn’t waver. I leaned in, my voice dropping to an inaudible murmur.
“Keep telling yourself that, Sunshine.”
Before she could respond, Nate and Nevaeh continued walking, and I took my chance. I tugged at the jacket, pretending to straighten it, but my fingers brushed against her arm just long enough to send another wave of tension through me.
“Too big for you,” I said, my voice casual, but my touch lingered longer than it should have. “Doesn’t look right.”
Hazel looked at me, frowning, but she said nothing. Instead, she pulled the jacket tighter around herself, like she was trying to keep something—someone—out. But I noticed. And I knew she felt the shift.