Ava and Alex were loudly chatting about the weather and trying to persuade each other which TV character each of them resembled. Someone was comparing someone to Ansel Elgort, although I could have been wrong. I wasn’t participating.
Hazel entered my space, setting a cup of coffee in front of me and bumping my shoulder. “Someone convinced me you couldnever make such a good cup of coffee,” she teased, winking at me. I refused to let this comment transport me back to yesterday and grunted unappreciative ‘Thanks’ back at her.
God, I couldn’t even look at her. The coldness hit her instantly. I didn’t see it, but I knew it erased her smile in seconds.
Don’t look at her. Yeah, like that means it didn’t happen, you moron.
Thankfully, Summer pulled Hazel into a conversation, shifting the focus away from me. They talked about her knowledge of Portuguese and how she could fool foreigners, but locals always caught her accent.
I kept my head down, shoveling food into my mouth. Maybe if I ate faster, the nutrients would hit my bloodstream quicker, and I’d stop being such an asshole. From the corner of my eye, I caught Norah watching me, puzzled. I ignored her and focused on my plate.
They kept talking, but I checked out, letting my brain cool off. My motor skills must’ve been impaired, too, otherwise I wouldn’t have knocked a bunch of napkins onto the floor. Sighing, I bent down to pick them up, but as I sat up, I noticed something blocking me. Hazel’s hand gripped the sharp table corner, shielding my head. She was still deep in conversation with Summer, not even looking at me. It wasn’t intentional. She did it instinctively, without noticing. No one saw it—except Norah. I stared at Hazel’s hand, then at her face. Then back at the sharp corner. Then at Norah. There was no teasing smirk, no knowing glance. Just a silent shock.
I lightly touched Hazel’s hand, and without hesitation, she let go, without even looking at me. Suddenly, Norah was trying to hide a grin. And just like that, I was annoyed again. I dropped my head and focused on my breakfast.
“Does someone have Band-Aids?” Norah asked.
“What happened?”
“I cut my shoulder on the rocks yesterday. It keeps bleeding,” Norah said.
“Can I see it?” Hazel asked.
I choked on my food. Hazel shot me a ‘Shut up’glance and punched my shoulder. I’d let her do that all day if it meant feeling her touch. A storm of emotions surged in my head, and they were all starting to fight each other.
Norah pulled down her shirt, revealing the cut. Hazel whispered an enthusiastic ‘Nice’.I would’ve laughed if I weren’t trying to contain my rotten brain together.
You, cute weirdo.
“I actually have the same scar on my leg. I got it when I was little, climbing a tree,” she laughed and lifted her dress to expose her thigh. “Though I decided to cover it up with the tattoo, you can still see it. It’s quite big—twenty-three stitches.” Her laugh was liquid fire to my brain.
And that did it. Right that moment. Her bare, exposed leg, the contrast of the tattoo on her smooth skin, the line of her almost unnoticeable panties.
It was just too much. I was, after all, just one man.
“Goddammit, people are trying to eat here,” I snapped, slamming my fork onto my plate, sending a shock wave around the table.
Hazel’s face—utter humiliation. Pain flickered in her eyes before guilt took over. Unbearable. What a prick I was. Nobody said a word.
“I... I’m sorry. You’re right,” she said.
NO, I’M NOT. I’m an asshole. Yell at me.
“I’m being disgusting. I apologize,” she laughed nervously, shame etched across her face. It was unconcealable. She lowered her dress, shrinking into herself.
Funny, it was me who wanted to fall off the Earth right now.
“Hazel, I have that dress upstairs that I told you about earlier. Do you maybe want to try it on?” Norah saved me from the appalling situation I’d put myself in. No, the appalling shell of a man I have bestowed upon them this morning.
I shamed her. In front of my friends. In front ofherfriends. And for what? My inability to control my thoughts.
Hazel forced a fake smile, walking toward the stairs. Norah followed her, but before passing me, threw a punch into my ribs. Hard. She leaned in, looking dead into my eyes, and whispered‘Asshole’.
I swallowed my reaction, feeling the sting of both her punch and my own guilt. She may have had her mother’s grace and beauty, but she had her father’s left hook.
As soon as they disappeared, I lowered my head between my shoulders.
“What the hell’s wrong with you, man?” Logan cut through the silence like a knife.
