Chapter 9 - Hazel
Hazel
I decided to use the time to tackle all the chores I’d been putting off.
I showered—something I didn’t have the energy for yesterday—shaved my legs, and indulged in a mini spa session with a face mask.
Also, I scrubbed my thighs real good because it helped the tattooed skin stay smooth and the ink brighter.
Then I just sat on the shower floor, contemplating.
However, I couldn’t lie there all day. I had things to do.
Dress shopping for Mady’s wedding was on the agenda, followed by my afternoon shift.
I finished the last drops of my coffee and dug through a box for something to wear.
I assumed it would be easier to try on a similar outfit, so I found my old blue high school dress, threw on a cardigan and a leather jacket, grabbed a box I planned to drop off at the new apartment, and headed out.
It was quite heavy, but the new apartment wasn’t too far from my old one and was even closer to my work.
I walked down the street and saw O’Riley’s sign.
I didn’t plan to go in, but tried to figure out who was working this morning through the glass.
Thomas had been chaotically messing up the work schedule for the past couple of days.
It changed three or four times, so after the third one I stopped trying to keep up since I had scheduled this morning free.
I passed by the café when suddenly eight eyes were watching me from the booth through the window.
Luke, Logan, Alex, and Ethan all smiled at me, waving their hands.
But just as I tried to wave back, my brain suddenly forgot I was holding a box, and it slipped out of my hands.
A loud crashing sound was muffled by a way louder Ahh on my part. The box fell right on the pavement. Good job. Embarrass yourself more.
I saw all the guys shoot up from their chairs. I grabbed the box as quickly as I could, mouthing “I’m fine, I’m fine” before speed-walking away, desperate to avoid a dramatic rescue.
Two blocks later, I felt a sting in my knee. A few shallow scrapes, probably from the box skimming it on the way down. At least it was just clothes and boots, not books. I could never live with myself if I had injured John Green or his beloved Augustus Waters.
I finally made it to my new apartment, dumped the box just inside the door, and headed straight for the park to meet Mady. And sure enough, there she was—holding two waffles, with what looked suspiciously like caramel sauce sliding down her chin.
“Is this the bride who’s trying on her wedding dress today?” I asked, sneaking up from her right side. She jumped, almost dropping both waffles.
“Gosh, you scared me. But to answer your question, you know I’ll be sneaking in some snacks in my dress. I’m not going to starve on my wedding day.”
“I would like to see where you are going to put that caramel waffle. In your bra?”
“No, of course not. I’m not a dummy. I’m gonna put it in my panties so that the warm caramel dripping down my legs is hidden by the underskirt.”
“Obviously,” I said, hugging her.
We headed straight to the bridal shop, where the seamstress Olga and her assistants were already waiting for us.
“How is it that your wedding dress is basically ready, but you only picked a wedding date last week?” I asked, while Olga measured me for my maid-of-honor dress.
“Oh, I’ve been planning this for 10 years like any normal girl would do. Haven’t you?” Mady shouted from the changing room while I stared at my reflection, imagining myself in a light lavender dress.
“The date and wedding details are for my fiancé and me to decide together, but the dress? That’s mine alone.”
“Fair point,” I said as Mady opened the curtains and stepped outside. I put down the champagne glass she had insisted I take because, apparently, that’s what girls always did in movies.
“Oh, Mady.” I was speechless. She wore an A-line gown with a six-foot train, a deep V-neckline decorated with lace flowers, pearls, and crystals.
The neckline, connected by an almost-invisible net, made it both elegant and subtly sexy.
The three-layered satin and chiffon skirt was absolutely breathtaking.
“You look incredible. Stunning doesn’t even cover it.”
“And check this out!” She spun around, sliding her hands into her skirt.
“Pockets!” I laughed.
“FOR THE SNACKS!” she announced with pride.
“Oh my God, you’re ridiculous!”
“No, just a modern woman rejecting societal expectations. If I want snacks, I’ll have snacks.”
“Please eat while walking down the aisle—for the pictures.”
“I’ll think about it,” she grinned.
“So, what’s up with John? Haven’t seen him lately.”
“He’s away for business, in Canada right now.”
“Has he picked a best man yet?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
“Yeah, it’s Matt. Sorry, Hazel, I know you’re not a fan, but he’s John’s best friend.”
“Oh, stop it. It’s your day. You can pick whoever you want, and I’ll be fine. Do I think he’s obnoxious, rude, and always bragging about his ‘big wiener,’ which is as fake as his stories about all the women chasing him? Sure. But I’ll be cool—and just tipsy enough to stay helpful.”
“That’s my girl. I can always count on you. Like a good old Toyota Corolla.”
“Thank you, I’ve always aspired to be a Corolla.”
“As a reward, I’ll make sure the bartender has your drinks ready in advance.” Mady winked, pulled two granola bars from her wedding dress pockets, and tossed me one, earning a disapproving glare from Olga.
* * *
By the time I left the bridal shop, full of granola bars and champagne, it had warmed up enough for just my dress and jacket. Ahh, I’ve always loved the sun.
When I was younger, my mom and I used to go hiking early in the mornings to watch the sunrise from the mountaintop.
We would sit there, watching the light spread, then head back home.
The sun always warmed us on the way down, leaving my back tanned while my face stayed pale.
Those hikes often made me late for school, and my mom wrote so many notes that the principal eventually called to verify if they were real.
But all I remember now is how the sun made me feel—and how it reminded me of her.
“Hey!” Thomas called from behind the counter. “Finally woke up from your beauty sleep?”
“Mady fed me granola, waffles, and champagne, then annoyed seamstress Olga by hiding snacks in her dress. So yeah, it was a good morning.”
“People say food makes women less cranky, but what do I know?” Thomas smirked.
I went to the back, put on my apron, and dabbed Neosporin on my bruised knee.
The afternoon was unusually quiet, with only a handful of customers trickling in.
Returning to the counter, I started making a coffee for my champagne-fuzzy head.
“Oh, Hazel, by the way, I talked to Linda. You’ve got yourself two weeks off.”
I froze, staring at the coffee machine.
“What?” I turned to him, trying to make sense of it.
“Yup. Had a quick chat with her. She said, ‘No,’ I said, ‘C’mon.’ She said, ‘No way.’ So, I whipped her up a killer breakfast and some great coffee—perks of access, you know?
” He grinned. “And by the end, she was like, ‘Oh, Thomas, you’re the reason I still work here,’ blah blah. Then she said, ‘Okay, fine.’”
He popped a brownie in his mouth while I stared at him, speechless. He had to be joking. Linda would never say that. I couldn’t decide if the breakfast or the ‘Okay, fine’ part was more unbelievable.
“Did you sleep with Linda to get me a vacation?” Oh. My. God.
“Oh, honey, we’ve been sleeping together for ages. It was a privilege to use it for a good cause.”
Wait—was I the good cause?
“But I’m not going, Thomas. This is insane.”
“Oh, you’re going. You just don’t know it yet. Speaking of which, Luke and his crew were here this morning.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, cringing at the memory of my run-in with the pavement. “Did you tell him I’m going?”
“No. But he did leave something for you.”
Thomas handed me a small package wrapped in blue tissue paper with a note that said For Hazel. He grinned, clearly amused. I took a deep breath and ripped up the paper.
It was a book. Not just any book. It was Jane Austen’s “Persuasion”.
I had my own copy at home, but this one looked unusual—very old.
I lightly brushed my thumb over the worn cover and opened it.
Right on the first page, it said Persuasion by Miss Austen, followed by the year 1832. I stared in disbelief. It can’t be.
If I remember correctly, the first edition of Persuasion, along with Mansfield Park, was released in 1818, but this seemed to be the first standalone edition based on the date. A folded page caught my eye. I turned to it and found two sentences highlighted with a blue marker.
BLUE MARKER.
Did he even know how rare and valuable this book was?!
“My idea of good company... is the company of clever, well-informed people, who have a great deal of conversation; that is what I call good company.”
“You are mistaken,” said he gently, “that is not good company, that is the best.”
I read the words, with Luke’s voice echoing in my mind. My thumb brushed over the ink as I let out a loud sigh, followed by an unintentional “Damn it”.
Behind me, Thomas let out a quiet snort that sounded like a laugh.
Ah, Hazel. You fool.