HAZEL
Asher takes his time sipping his coffee. For someone who has something important to say, he’s sure taking his sweet time with it.
I’m still yet to decide if I’m mad at him or worried about him. He looks like needs a full eight hours of sleep.
“We have a rugby game at noon,” he tells me, finally breaking the silence between us. In the coffee shop, we’re the only couple seated. Everyone else is buying and taking their coffees to-go.
“I know.” I clear my throat. “About the game.”
“Right.” Asher clears his throat too. Sets his coffee down. “So, I spoke to my aunt this morning, before I came here.”
“Oh.” That isn’t what I was expecting him to start with. “Okay. Well, what did she say?”
“She wanted to talk about you.”
“About me.”
“Yeah. About your future. Or a lack of.”
“I’m sor
