After (The After Series) (12 page)

“That is none of your business.” Hardin looks angrily at the door where Landon disappeared. “I don’t know why the asshole even told you that. I’m going to have to shut him up, it seems.”

“You leave him alone, Hardin. He didn’t even want to tell me, but I got it out of him.” The idea of Hardin hurting Landon makes me sick. I need to change the subject. “So where are we going today?” I ask, and he glares at me.

“We aren’t going anywhere; this was a bad idea,” he snaps, turns on his heels, and walks away. I stand there for a minute, waiting to see if Hardin changes his mind and will come back.

What the hell?
He really is bipolar, I’m sure of it.

BACK IN MY DORM ROOM,
I find Zed, Tristan, and Steph sitting on her bed. Tristan’s eyes are focused on Steph and Zed is flicking his thumb across the trigger of a metal lighter. I would usually be annoyed with this many unexpected guests, but I really like Zed and Tristan, and I need the distraction.

“Hey, Tessa! How were classes?” Steph asks and gives me a big smile. I can’t help but notice the way Tristan’s face lights up when he looks at her.

“They were okay. You?” I put my books on my dresser and she tells me about her professor spilling hot coffee on himself, making them get out early.

“You look nice today, Tessa,” Zed tells me, and I say thanks and crowd on Steph’s bed with the three of them. The bed really is too small for all of us, but it works. After we’ve been talking
about various weird professors for a few minutes, the door opens and we all turn to see who it is.

It’s Hardin. Ugh.

“Geez, man, you could at least knock for once,” Steph scolds him and he shrugs. “I could have been naked or something.” She laughs, obviously not angry at his lack of manners.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he jokes, and Tristan’s face falls while the other three chuckle. I can’t find the humor, either; I hate thinking about Steph and Hardin together.

“Oh, shut up,” she says, still laughing, and grabs hold of Tristan’s hand. His smile returns and he moves a little closer to her.

“What are you guys up to?” Hardin asks and sits opposite us, on my bed. I want to tell him to get off but I keep quiet. I thought for a second he had come here to apologize, but now I can see he just came to hang out with his friends, and I am not one of them.

Zed smiles. “We were actually going to go to the movies. Tessa, you should come.”

Before I can answer, Hardin speaks up quickly. “Actually, Tessa and I have plans.” There is a strange edge to his voice.

God, he’s so moody.

“What?” Zed and Steph say in unison.

“Yeah, I was just coming to get her.” Hardin stands up and puts his hands into his pockets, gesturing toward the door with his body. “You ready or what?”

My mind screams,
No!
but I nod and slip off Steph’s bed.

“Well, see you all later!” Hardin announces and practically pushes me out the door. Outside, he leads me to his car and, surprising me, opens the passenger door for me. I stand still with my arms crossed, looking at him.

“Well, I’ll remember not to ever open a door for you again . . .”

I shake my head. “What the hell was that? I know full well
you didn’t come here to get me—you just got done telling me that you didn’t want to hang out with me!” I yell.

And we are back to yelling at each other. He makes me crazy, literally.

“Yes, I did. Now get in the car.”

“No! If you don’t admit that you didn’t come here to see me, I will go back in there and go to the movies with Zed,” I say, which makes him clench his jaw.

I knew it.
I don’t know how to feel about this revelation, but somehow I knew Hardin didn’t want me to go to the movies with Zed and that that’s the only reason he’s trying to hang out with me now.

“Admit it, Hardin, or I am gone.”

“Okay, fine. I admit it. Now get in the damned car. I won’t ask again,” he says and walks around to the driver’s side.

Against my better judgment, I get in, too.

Hardin still looks angry as he pulls out of the parking lot. He turns the screeching music up way too loud. I reach down and shut it off.

“Don’t touch my radio,” he scolds.

“If you’re going to be a jerk the whole time, I don’t want to hang out with you.” And I mean it. If he’s like this, I don’t care where we are, I’ll hitchhike back to the dorms or something.

“I’m not. Just don’t touch my radio.”

My thoughts go back to Hardin tossing my notes into the air, and in turn I want to yank his radio out and throw it out the window. If I knew I could tear it from the dash, I would.

“Why do you care if I go to the movies with Zed anyway? Steph and Tristan were going, too.”

“I just don’t think Zed has the best intentions,” he says quietly, his eyes glued to the road.

I begin to laugh and he frowns. “Oh, and you do? At least Zed is nice to me.” I can’t stop laughing. The idea of Hardin trying
to protect me in some way is hilarious. Zed is a friend, nothing more. Just like Hardin.

Hardin rolls his eyes but doesn’t give me an answer. He turns the music back on and its guitars and bass literally hurt my ears.

“Can you
please
turn it down?” I beg.

To my surprise, he does, but leaves it on for background noise.

“That music is terrible.”

He laughs and taps the steering wheel. “No, it’s not. Though I would love to know your opinion on what
is
good music.” When he smiles like this, he looks so carefree, especially with his window down, the breeze blowing through his hair. He reaches one hand up and pushes his hair back. I love the way it looks when it’s back like that. I shake the thoughts from my head.

“Well, I like Bon Iver, and the Fray,” I finally answer.

“Of course you do,” he says, and chuckles.

I defend my two favorite bands. “What is wrong with them? They are insanely talented, and their music is wonderful.”

“Yeah . . . they are talented. Talented at putting people to sleep.”

When I reach across and playfully swat his shoulder, he mock winces and laughs.

“Well, I love them,” I say with a smile. If we could just stay in this playful state, I might actually have a good time. I look out the window for the first time, but I don’t really know where we are. “Where are we going?”

“To one of my favorite places.”

“Which is where?”

“You really have to know everything that is going on in advance, don’t you?”

“Yeah . . . I like to—”

“Control everything?”

I stay quiet. I know he’s right, but that’s just the way I am.

“Well, I’m not telling you until we get there . . . which will be only about five minutes from now.”

I lean back against the leather seat of his car and turn my head to glance at the backseat. A messy stack of textbooks and loose papers rest on one side and a thick black sweatshirt rests on the other.

“See something that you like back there?” Hardin catches me by embarrassed surprise.

“What kind of car is this?” I ask. I need a distraction from both not knowing where we are going and him calling me out for being nosy.

“Ford Capri—a classic,” he boasts, obviously proud. He goes on to tell me all about it even though I have no idea what he is talking about. Still, I like to watch his lips as he talks, the way they move slowly as the words are even slower. After looking over at me a few times during the conversation, he pretty harshly says, “I don’t like to be stared at,” though he does smile a little after.

W
e start down a gravel road, and Hardin turns the music off so that the only noise is the little stones crunching beneath the tires. I suddenly realize we are out in the middle of nowhere. I get nervous now; we are alone, really alone. There are no cars, no buildings, nothing.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t bring you out here to kill you,” he jokes and I gulp. I doubt he realizes that I’m more afraid of what I might do when alone with him than if he was to actually try to kill me.

After another mile he stops the car. I look out the window and see nothing but grass and trees. There are yellow wildflowers across the landscape and the breeze is perfectly warm. Granted, the place is nice and serene. But why bring me here?

“What are we going to do here?” I ask him as I climb out of the car.

“Well, first, a bit of walking.”

I sigh.
So he took me here to exercise?

Noticing my sour expression, he adds, “Not too much walking,” and begins along a part of the grass that looks flattened from being used a number of times.

We’re both quiet for most of the walk, save a few rude snips from Hardin about me being too slow. I ignore him and take in my surroundings. I am beginning to understand why he likes this seemingly random place. It’s so quiet. Peaceful. I could stay here forever as long as I brought a book with me. He turns off the trail and goes into a wooded area. My natural suspiciousness kicks in,
but I follow. A few minutes later we emerge from the woods to a stream, or really more of a river. I have no idea where we are but the water looks pretty deep.

Hardin doesn’t say anything as he pulls his black T-shirt over his head. My eyes scan his inked torso. The way the empty branches of the dead tree are drawn into his skin is more appealing than haunting under the bright sun. He then bends down to untie his dirty black boots, glancing up at me, catching me staring at his half-naked body.

“Wait, why are you undressing?” I ask and look at the stream.
Oh no.
“You are going to swim? In that?” I say and point to the water.

“Yeah, and you are, too. I do it all the time.” He unbuttons his pants and I have to force myself to not stare at the way the muscles in his bare back move when he bends down and pulls them over his legs.

“I am
not
swimming in that.” I don’t mind swimming, but not in a random place in the middle of nowhere.

“And why is that?” He gestures toward the river. “It’s clean enough that you can see the bottom.”

“So . . . there are probably fish and God knows what in there.” I realize how ridiculous I sound but I don’t care. “Besides, you didn’t tell me we were going swimming so I have nothing to swim in.” He can’t argue with that.

“You’re telling me you’re the kind of girl who doesn’t wear underwear?” He smirks, and I gape at him, and those dimples. “Yeah, so go in your bra and panties.”

Wait, so he thought I would come out here and take all my clothes off and swim with him?
My insides stir and I get warm thinking about being naked in the water with Hardin. What is he doing to me? I have never, ever had these types of thoughts before him.

“I am not swimming in my underwear, you creep.” I sit on the soft grass. “I’ll just watch,” I tell him.

He frowns. Now only in his boxer briefs, the black material is tight against his body. This is the second time I have seen him shirtless and he looks even better here, under the open sky.

“You’re no fun.
And
you’re missing out,” he says flatly. And jumps into the water.

I keep my eyes on the grass and pluck a few blades out, playing with them between my fingers. I hear Hardin call, “The water is warm, Tess!” from the stream. From my spot on the grass, I can see the drops of water falling from his now-black hair. He is smiling as he pushes his soaked hair back and wipes his face off with one hand.

For a moment I find myself wishing I was someone else, someone braver. Like Steph. If I was Steph, I would strip down and jump into the warm water with Hardin. I would splash around and climb up the bank just to jump back and soak him. I would be fun and carefree.

But I’m not Steph. I’m Tessa.

“This is one beyond-boring friendship so far . . .” Hardin exclaims and swims closer to the bank. I roll my eyes and he chuckles. “At least take your shoes off and put your feet in. It feels amazing and pretty soon it will be too cold to swim in.”

Putting my feet in wouldn’t be so bad. So I take my shoes off and roll my jeans up enough to dip my feet over the edge and into the water. Hardin was right, the water is warm and clear. I wiggle my toes and can’t help but smile.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” he asks, and I can’t help but nod. “So just come in.”

I shake my head and he splashes me with the water. I scoot back and scowl at him.

“If you come in the water, I will answer one of your always-intrusive questions. Any question that you want, but only one,” he warns.

Curiosity gets the best of me and I tilt my head in concentration.
There are so many mysteries about him, and here’s a chance to maybe solve one of them.

“This offer expires in one minute,” he says and slips beneath the water. I can see his long body swimming under the clear water. It does look like fun, and Hardin drives a hard bargain. He knows just how to use my curiosity against me.

“Tessa,” he says after his head pops back up above the surface, “stop overthinking everything, and just jump in.”

“I don’t have anything to wear. If I jump in in my clothes, I will have to walk back to the car and ride back soaked,” I whine. I almost want to get in the water. Okay, I know I do.

“Wear my shirt,” he offers, which shocks me, so I wait a second for him to tell me he was joking, but he doesn’t. “Go on, just wear my shirt. It will be long enough for you to wear in here and you can keep your bra and panties on,
if you wish
,” he says with a smile. I take his advice and stop thinking.

“Fine, but turn around and do not look at me while I am changing—I mean it!” I try my best to be intimidating, but he just laughs. He turns around and faces the opposite direction, so I lift my shirt over my head and grab his as quickly as I can. Slipping it on, I can tell he was right, since it reaches down to the middle of my thighs. I can’t help but admire the way his shirt smells, like faint cologne mixed with a smell I can only describe as Hardin.

“Hurry the hell up or I will turn around,” he says, and I wish I had a stick to throw at his head. I unbutton my jeans and step out of them. Folding my jeans and shirt neatly, I put them next to my shoes on the grass. Hardin turns around and I tug at the bottom of his black T-shirt, trying to pull it as far as it will go.