After (The After Series) (14 page)

I wait for him to talk to me as we walk back to the car, but he doesn’t say anything. My mind is already coming up with every possible worst-case scenario for what happens next. He opens my door for me and I nod to thank him.

“Is something wrong?” he asks me while he drives back down the gravel road.

“I don’t know. Why are you being so weird now?” I ask him,
even though I’m afraid of his answer and can’t look directly at him.

“I’m not, you are.”

“No, you haven’t said a word to me since . . . you know.”

“Since I gave you your first orgasm?”

My mouth drops and my cheeks flush.
Why am I still surprised by his dirty mouth?

“Um, yeah. Since that, you haven’t said anything. You just got dressed and we left.” Honesty seems to be the best option right now, so I add, “It makes me feel like you’re using me or something”

“What? Of course I’m not using you. To use someone I would have to be getting something out of it,” he says, so offhandedly that I can suddenly feel the tears coming. I do my best to keep them back but one escapes.

“Are you crying? What did I say?” He reaches over and puts his hand on my thigh. To my surprise it soothes me. “I didn’t mean it like that—I am sorry. I’m not used to whatever is supposed to happen after messing around with someone, plus I wasn’t going to just drop you off at your room and go our separate ways. I thought maybe we could get some dinner or something? I am sure you’re starving.” He squeezes my thigh gently.

I smile back at him, relieved by his words. I wipe away the tear that escaped prematurely and with it goes my worry.

I don’t know what it is about Hardin that makes me so emotional, in every way possible. The idea of him using me makes me more upset than it should. My feelings for Hardin are so confusing. I hate him one minute and want to kiss him the next. He makes me feel things I never knew I could, and not just sexually. He makes me laugh and cry, yell and scream, but most of all he makes me feel alive.

H
ardin’s hand is still on my thigh and I hope he never removes it. I take a quick opportunity to study some of the tattoos covering his arms. The infinity symbol above his wrist catches my eye again, and I can’t help but wonder if it means something to him. It feels personal, inked there, just above the bare skin on his hand. I check his other wrist for a matching symbol but there isn’t one. The infinity symbol is common enough, mostly among women, but the way the two loops on the ends are hearts makes me even more curious.

“So what type of food do you like?” he asks.

What a refreshingly normal question for him to ask me. I pull my matted, almost dry hair into a bun and think for a second about what I want to eat. “Well, I like anything, really, as long as I know what it is—and it doesn’t involve ketchup.”

He laughs. “You don’t like ketchup? Aren’t all Americans supposed to be wild for the stuff?” he teases.

“I have no idea, but it’s disgusting.”

We both laugh and I look over at Hardin, who says, “Let’s just stick with a plain diner then?”

I nod and he reaches to turn the music up but stops and puts his hand back on me. “So what do you plan on doing after college?” he asks; it’s something he’s already asked me before, in his room.

“I’m going to move to Seattle immediately, and I hope to work
at a publishing house or be a writer. I know it’s silly,” I say, suddenly embarrassed by my high ambitions. “But you already asked me that before, remember?”

“No, it’s not. I know someone over at Vance Publishing House; it’s a bit of a drive, but maybe you should apply there for an internship. I could talk to him.”

“What? You would do that for me?” My voice goes high because I’m pretty surprised; even if he has been nice for the last hour, this isn’t quite what I expected.

“Yeah, it’s not a big deal.” He seems a little embarrassed. I am sure he isn’t used to doing nice things.

“Wow, thank you. Really. I need to get a job or internship soon anyway, and that would literally be a dream come true!” I clap my hands.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re welcome.”

We pull into a small parking lot next to an old brick building.

“The food here is amazing,” he says and climbs out of the car. Walking around to the trunk, he opens it . . . and pulls out another plain-black T-shirt. He really must have an endless supply. I was enjoying him being shirtless so much that I forgot he would eventually have to put one back on.

When we get inside we seat ourselves in the fairly deserted place. An old woman walks to the table and goes to hand us our menus, but he waves them off, ordering a hamburger and fries, gesturing like I should do the same. I trust him on this one and order it—minus ketchup, of course.

While we wait, I tell Hardin about growing up in Richland, which, being from England, he’s never heard of. He isn’t missing out on much; the town is small and everyone does the same things and no one ever leaves. Everyone except me: I will never move back there. He doesn’t offer me much information about his past, but I’m hopeful and patient. He seems very curious
about my life as a child and he frowns when I tell him about my dad’s drinking. I had mentioned it to him before, while we were fighting, but this time I went into a little more detail.

During a pause in the conversation, the waitress reappears with our food, which looks delicious.

“Good, huh?” Hardin asks as I take my first bite. I nod and wipe my mouth off. The food is amazing and we both clear our plates, me being more hungry than I’ve ever been before.

THE DRIVE BACK TO THE DORMS
is relaxed. His long fingers rub circles on my leg, and I’m disappointed to see the WCU sign when we finally hit campus and the student parking lot.

“Did you have a nice time?” I ask him. I feel so much closer to him now than I did a few hours ago. He can be really good when he tries to be.

“Yeah, I did, actually.” He seems surprised. “Listen, I would walk you to your room, but I don’t want to play twenty questions with Steph . . .” He smiles and turns his body sideways to face me.

“It’s fine. I’ll just see you tomorrow,” I tell him. I’m not sure if I should try to kiss him goodbye or not, so I’m relieved when his fingers tug on a few loose strands of my hair and tuck them behind my ear. I rest my face in his palm and he leans over and touches his lips to mine. It starts as a simple and gentle kiss, but I feel it warm my entire body and I need more. Hardin grabs my arm and pulls it to gesture for me to climb over the middle divider. I quickly oblige and straddle his lap, my back hitting the steering wheel. I feel the seat recline slightly, giving us more room as I lift his shirt a little to slide my hands under it. His stomach is hard and his skin is hot. I trace my fingers along the ink there.

His tongue massages mine and he wraps his arms around me tightly. The feeling is almost painful, but it’s a pain I will gladly endure to be this close to him. He moans into my mouth as I put
my hands farther up his shirt. I love that I can make him moan, too, that I have this effect on him. I’m really about to get lost in the sensation again when we are interrupted by my phone ringing.

“Another alarm?” he teases as I pull back and reach into my purse.

Smiling, I open my mouth to say something smart back at him, but when I look at the screen and see it’s Noah, I stop. Looking at Hardin, I can tell he’s figured it out. His expression changes, and fearing that I’m losing him, this mood, I hit the ignore button and toss my phone back onto the passenger seat. I am not thinking about Noah right now. I push him to the back corner of my mind and lock that door.

I lean back in to continue kissing Hardin, but he stops me.

“I think I better go.” His tone is clipped, and sends worry through me. When I draw back to look at him, his gaze is distant and ice immediately replaces the fire in my body.

“Hardin, I ignored it. I am going to talk to him about all this. I just don’t know how or when—but it will be soon, though, I promise.” I knew somewhere in the back of my mind that I would have to break up with Noah the moment I kissed Hardin that first time. I can’t date him if I’ve already betrayed him. It would always hang over my head like a dark cloud of guilt, and neither of us wants that. The way I feel about Hardin is another reason I can’t be with Noah anymore. I love Noah, but if I really loved him the way he deserves to be loved, I wouldn’t be having these feelings for Hardin. I don’t want to hurt Noah, but there is no turning back now.

“Talk to him about what?” he snaps.

“All of this.” I wave my hands around. “Us.”

“
Us
? You’re not trying to tell me you’re going to break up with him . . . for
me,
are you?”

My head starts to spin. I know I should climb off his lap but I am frozen.

“You don’t . . . want me to?” My voice comes out as a whisper.

“No, why would you? I mean, yeah, if you want to dump him, go for it, but don’t do it on my behalf.”

“I just . . . I thought . . .” I start to fumble my words.

“I already told you that I don’t date, Theresa,” he says.

My body wants to freeze like a deer in headlights; the only thing that makes it possible for me to climb off him is the fact that I refuse to let him see me cry, again.

“You’re disgusting,” I say bitterly and grab my stuff from the floorboards and my phone from the seat. Hardin looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. “Stay away from me from now on—I mean it!” I shout, and he closes his eyes.

I walk as fast as I can to my building, to my room, somehow managing to hold in my tears until I get inside and shut the door. I am so grateful Steph’s gone as I slide down the door and break into sobs. How could I be so stupid? I knew how he was when I agreed to be alone with him, yet I practically jumped at the opportunity. Just because he was nice to me today, I got it into my head that
what
—that he would be my
boyfriend
? I laugh through my sobs at how stupid and naïve I am. I really can’t even be angry with Hardin. He told me he doesn’t date, but today we had such a nice time. He was actually pleasant and playful, and I thought we were really building a relationship of some kind.

But it was all an act, just so he could get into my pants. And I let him.

M
y tears dry, and I am showered and somewhat mentally stable by the time Steph returns from the movies.

“So, how was your . . . hangout with Hardin?” she asks and grabs her pajamas out of her dresser.

“It was okay, he was his normal . . . charming self,” I tell her and manage a laugh. I want to tell her about what we did, but I’m too ashamed. I know she wouldn’t judge me, and despite wanting to be able to tell
someone,
I also really don’t want anyone to know.

Steph looks at me with concern evident in her eyes, and I have to look away. “Just be careful, okay; you’re too nice for someone like Hardin.”

I want to hug her and cry into her shoulder but instead ask, “How was the movie?” to change the subject. She tells me how Tristan kept feeding her popcorn and that she is really starting to like him. I want to gag, but I know I am just jealous because Tristan actually likes her in a way Hardin doesn’t like me. But I remind myself that I do have someone who loves me and that I need to start treating him better and stay away from Hardin—for real this time.

THE NEXT MORNING
I’m drained. I have no energy and feel like I could cry at any moment. My eyes are red and puffy from crying last night, so I walk over to Steph’s dresser and grab her makeup bag. I pull out brown eyeliner and draw a thin line under my eyes
and on my eyelid. It makes my eyes look much better. I put a little powder under my eyes to give my skin a little color. A few swipes of mascara and I look like a new person. Pleased with the way I look, I put on my tight jeans and a tank top. Still feeling naked, I grab a white cardigan out of my closet. This is the most effort I have made in my appearance for a regular school day since picture day my senior year of high school.

Landon texts me that we’ll have to meet in class, so when I stop by the coffeehouse I grab him a drink, too. I’m still pretty early to class, so I walk slower than usual.

“Hey, Tessa, right?” I hear a guy’s voice say. I look over and see a preppy boy coming my way.

“Yeah, Logan, right?” I ask him, and he nods.

“You coming over again this weekend?” he asks. He must be part of the frat; of course he is, he’s preppy and gorgeous.

“Oh, no, not this weekend.” I laugh and he joins in.

“Bummer, you were fun. Well, if you change your mind, you know where it is. I gotta go, but I’ll see you around.” Giving me a fake little tip of the hat, he walks away.

In class, Landon is already seated and thanks me repeatedly for bringing him coffee. “You look different today,” he says as I sit down.

“I put makeup on,” I joke and he smiles. He doesn’t ask about my night with Hardin and I am grateful. I’m not sure what I would say to him.

Just as the day gets pleasant, and I begin to stop thinking about Hardin, it’s time for Literature.

HARDIN SITS IN HIS NORMAL SEAT
in the front. He’s wearing a white T-shirt for once and it’s thin enough that his tattoos are visible underneath it. It amazes me how attractive I find his tattoos and piercings when I’ve never cared for either before. I look
away quickly, sit down in my usual seat next to him, and pull out my notes. I’m not giving up my great seat because of one rude boy. Still, I hope Landon arrives soon so I won’t feel so alone with Hardin.

“Tess?” Hardin whispers as the class begins to fill up.

No. Don’t answer him. Ignore him,
I repeat to myself.

“Tess?” he says again, this time louder.

“Do not speak to me, Hardin,” I say through my teeth. I avoid looking at him. I will not fall back into his trap.

“Oh come on,” he says, and I can tell he thinks this is all funny.

My tone is harsh but I don’t care: “I mean it, Hardin, leave me alone.”