After (The After Series) (24 page)

“No, you should have brought your own,” I tease and turn the screen so he can see it better from the floor.

“I could always go for another type of snack,” he says and I smack his head lightheartedly.

“Watch the movie, and no more talking, or I’ll kick you out.”

Hardin pretends to zip his lips and hand me a key, which makes me giggle as I pretend to toss it behind me. As Hardin lays his head back against the bed, I feel more calm and at peace than I have all week.

Hardin watches me more than the movie, but I don’t care. I notice the way he smiles when I laugh at a funny line, the way he frowns when I sob over Paige losing her memory, and the way he too sighs with relief when Paige and Leo end up together again in the end.

“So what did you think?” I ask him as I scroll through to find another movie.

“Utter rubbish.” But he smiles, and I ruffle my hand through
his hair before I realize what I’m doing. I sit myself up and he turns toward the wall.

Way to make it awkward, Tessa.

“Let me choose the next movie,” he says and reaches for my laptop.

“Who said you could stay for another?” I ask and he rolls his eyes.

“Can’t drive. Still drunk,” he says with a mischievous grin.

I know he is lying. He’s mostly sobered up, but he’s right. He should stay. I will deal with whatever Hardin decides to do to me tomorrow, just to be able to spend time with him. I really am pathetic, just like he said. And at the moment, I don’t care.

I want to ask him why he came here and why he isn’t at his own frat party, but I decide to wait until the movie is over because I know he will turn sour once I begin to question him. Hardin chooses some Batman film that I haven’t seen and swears it is the best movie of all time. I laugh at his enthusiasm as he tries to explain the previous movies in the trilogy, but I have no idea what he is talking about. Noah and I always watch movies together, but I have never enjoyed it as much as I do with Hardin. Noah stares at the screen in silence, whereas Hardin banters along, adding hilarious sarcastic entertainment.

“My ass is numb from your hard floor,” Hardin complains as soon as the movie begins.

“Steph’s bed is nice and soft,” I say, and he frowns.

“I won’t be able to see the screen from over there. Come on, Tessa, I will keep my hands to myself.”

“Fine,” I groan and scoot over.

He smiles and lies next to me on his stomach mimicking me, bending his knees and putting his feet in the air. Hardin lays his head on his folded hands, which takes away all his rough edges and leaves him looking adorable. The movie is much better than
I expected, and I must’ve been more into it than Hardin, because when the credits roll and I look over at him, he’s fast asleep.

He looks so perfect, so peaceful in his sleep. I love the way his eyelids flutter and the way his chest moves up and down and the lovely sigh that leaves his full lips. I want to reach over and touch his face, but I don’t. Despite the fact that I should wake him and make him leave, I cover him with my blanket and go lock the door before lying down on Steph’s bed. I glance over at him again and admire the way the dim light from the television illuminates his face. He looks younger and much happier in his sleep.

As I drift to sleep, I realize that I’ve spent the night with Hardin a couple of times now, and never with Noah. My subconscious helpfully reminds me that I’ve done
a lot
of things with Hardin that I’ve never done with Noah.

T
he faint sound of buzzing floats through my dream in a steady pattern. Why won’t it stop? I roll over, not wanting to wake up, but the obnoxious sound insists that I do. I’m disoriented, and forget where I am. And then when I realize I’m in Steph’s bed, I still almost forget Hardin is in my room.

How do we always end up together? And more important, where is that annoying noise coming from? In the dim light provided by streetlights just outside the window, I follow the noise and it leads to Hardin’s pocket. I feel as if the noise is calling to me in my dreamy state. I debate whether or not to reach into his pocket, my eyes focused on the imprint of the phone in the front pocket of his tight jeans. It stops as I reach my bed so I steal another opportunity to take in how peaceful Hardin looks in his sleep. There is no soft crinkle in his forehead from his constant frowning, and there is no purse to his pink lips. I sigh and turn around only to have the buzzing start again. I’m just going to grab it, he won’t wake up. I dip my hand down and struggle to reach into Hardin’s pocket. If his pants weren’t so tight, I would be able to pull the phone from his pocket . . . but I have no such luck.

“What are you doing?” he groans.

I jolt a few feet away from my bed. “Your phone is going off and it woke me up,” I whisper, despite the fact that we are the only people in the room.

I watch silently as he digs into his pocket, his large hand
struggling to pull out his phone. “What?” He snaps into the mouthpiece when he does get it out, only to swipe his hand over his forehead at whatever response he received.

“I am not coming back there tonight. I am at a friend’s house.”

Are we friends?
Of course not, I’m just a convenient excuse for why he isn’t returning to the party. I stand awkwardly and shift my weight from one leg to the other.

“No, you can’t go into my room. You know this. I’m going back to sleep now, so don’t wake me up again. And my door is locked, so don’t waste your time trying.” He hangs up, and I instinctively back away. His bad mood is palpable, and I don’t want to be on the receiving end of his venom. I crawl onto Steph’s bed and pull the blanket to me.

“Sorry that my phone woke you,” he says quietly. “It was Molly.”

“Oh.” I sigh and lie down on my side, facing my bed across the room. Hardin gives me a small smile, as if he knows what I’m thinking about Molly. I can’t ignore the small bubble of excitement that comes from him being here instead of with Molly, even though his actions make no sense to me.

“You don’t like her, do you?” He rolls fully onto his side, his hair messy and everywhere on my pillow.

I shake my head. “Not really, but please don’t tell her. I don’t want any drama,” I beg. I know I can’t trust him, but hopefully he will forget to stir up controversy with this information.

“I won’t. I don’t care for her, either,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, you really seem to dislike her,” I say just as sarcastically as I can manage.

“I don’t. I mean, she is fun and all, but she is quite annoying,” he admits, making that bubble grow a little more.

“Well, maybe you should stop messing around with her,” I suggest and roll onto my back so he can’t see my face.

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t mess around with her?”

“No. I mean, if you think she is annoying, then why keep doing it?” I know I don’t want the answer to this, but can’t help it.

“To keep me occupied, I guess.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Talking about Hardin messing around with Molly hurts me worse than it should.

His smooth voice interrupts my jealous thoughts. “Come lie with me.”

“No.”

“Come on, just lie with me. I sleep better when you’re near me,” he says like it’s a confession.

I sit up and look at him.
“What?”
I can’t hide my surprise at his words. Whether he means them or not, they make my insides melt.

“I sleep better when you’re with me.” He breaks eye contact and looks down. “Last weekend I slept better than I have in a while.”

“It was probably the scotch, not me.” I try to make light of his confession. I don’t know what else to do or say.

“No, it was you.”

“Good night, Hardin.” I turn over. If he keeps saying these things and I keep listening, I will be putty in his hands yet again.

“Why don’t you believe me?” he almost whispers.

“Because you always do this: you say a few nice things and then you flip the switch and I end up crying.”

“I make you cry?”

How doesn’t he know that?
He has seen me cry more than anyone else I know.

“Yeah, often,” I say, gripping Steph’s blanket tight.

I hear his bed squeak lightly and I close my eyes, out of fear, out of something else, too. Hardin’s fingers graze my arm as he sits on the edge of Steph’s bed, and I tell myself it’s too late—well, early—for this at 4 a.m.

“I don’t mean to make you cry.”

I open my eyes and look up at him. “Yes. Yes, you do. That’s your
exact
intention every time you say hurtful things to me. And when you forced me to tell Noah about us. And when you humiliated me in your bed last week because I couldn’t say exactly what you wanted me to. Tonight you tell me you sleep better when I am around, but if I was to lie with you, the second we woke up you would just tell me I am ugly, or that you can’t stand me. After we went to the stream, I thought that . . . never mind. There are only so many times I can have this talk with you.” I take in a couple of deep breaths, panicked at my unloading on him.

“I’m listening this time.” His eyes are unreadable, but they make me want to continue.

“I just don’t know why you love this cat-and-mouse game you play with me so much. You’re nice, then mean. You tell Steph you’ll ‘ruin’ me if I come around you, then you want to drive me home. You are just all over the place.”

“I didn’t mean that. That I would ruin you, I just . . . I don’t know. I just say things sometimes,” he says, running his hands through his hair.

“Why did you drop Literature?” I finally ask.

“Because you want me to stay away from you, and I need to stay away from you.”

“So why don’t you, then?” I am slightly aware of the shift in energy around us. Somehow we have moved closer, our bodies only inches apart.

“I don’t know,” he huffs. He rubs his hands together, then rests them on his knees.

I want to say something—anything—but I can’t without telling Hardin that I
don’t
want him to stay away, that I think about him every second of every day.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “Can I ask you something and you will be completely honest?”

I nod.

“Did you . . . did you miss me this week?”

That was the last thing I expected him to ask me. I blink a few times to clear my frantic mind. I told him I would answer truthfully, but I’m afraid to.

“Well?”

“Yeah,” I mumble and hide my face in my hands, only to have him pull them away, his touch on my wrists setting fire to my skin.

“Yeah, what?” His voice is strained, like he is desperate for my answer.

“I missed you,” I gulp, expecting the worst.

What I did not expect is his sigh of relief, and the smile that stretches across his beautiful face. I want to ask him if he missed me, but he begins to speak before I get the chance.

“Really?” he asks, almost like he doesn’t believe me.

I nod in reply and he gives me a shy smile. Hardin
shy
? More likely he’s pleased by my admittance because it tells him he has me wrapped around his finger.

“Now can I go back to sleep?” I whine. I know he isn’t going to reciprocate my confession with one of his own, and it is really late.

“Only if you sleep with me. As in, in the same bed, of course.” He smiles.

I sigh and mumble, “Oh, Hardin, can we just go to sleep?” as I roll over, careful not to touch him. But a sudden yank on my legs makes me yelp in surprise, and I quickly find Hardin lifting me off the bed and throwing me over his shoulder. He ignores my kicking and pleas to put me down until he reaches my bed, rests one knee on it, and lays me down gently on the side against the wall before lying down next to me. I glare at him silently, afraid that if I fight him too hard he’ll leave, which I know I don’t want.

He reaches down and picks up the pillow that I tossed at him
earlier and places it between us as a barrier with a smirk on his face. “There, now you can sleep, safe and secure.”

I smile back at him. I can’t help it. “Good night,” I half-giggle.

“Night, Tessa.” He laughs back and I roll over on my side.

But suddenly I’m not anywhere near tired, so I just stare at the wall, hoping this electricity will dissipate and I can sleep. Well, half-hoping.

A few minutes later I feel the pillow move and then Hardin’s arm wraps around my waist and he pulls me to his chest. I don’t move it or call attention to his actions. I am enjoying the feeling too much.

“I missed you, too,” he whispers against my hair. I smile knowing that he can’t see me. I feel the light pressure of his lips against the back of my head and my stomach flips. As much as I love it, I am left more confused than ever as I drift off to sleep.

M
y alarm goes off too early and I roll over. I lift my hand, smacking at it to stop the hideous beeping assaulting my ears. My hand smacks against a soft, warm surface, and I blink my eyes open to find Hardin staring down at me. I reach for my pillow to cover my embarrassment but Hardin yanks it away.

“Good morning to you, too,” he says with a smile, rubbing at his arm.

I stare back, working an apology in my mind.
How long has be been watching me?

“You’re cute when you’re asleep,” he teases and I sit up as quick as I can, sure I look fairly hideous, like usual in the morning.

He hands me my phone. “What’s the alarm for?”

I switch it off and climb off the bed. “I’m going to look for a car today, so you can leave whenever,” I tell him and he frowns.

“You’re obviously not a morning person.”

I pull my hair back into a tail, in an effort to keep it from looking like a bird’s nest. “I am . . . I just don’t want to keep you.” I feel a little guilty for being rude, but I had expected him to be rude himself, to be honest.

“You’re not. Can I come with you?”

I search around my room, wondering if I heard him correctly. Finally I turn to him with suspicion in my eyes. “To look at a car? Why would you want to do that?”

“Why do I have to have a reason? You act like I’m plotting to kill you or something.” He laughs and stands up, ruffling his hair.