After (The After Series) (30 page)

“Hardin,” I chirp and he chuckles against my neck. His hands travel down my body; he brings his thumb along the waistband of
the oversize plaid pajamas. My pulse begins to quicken and I gasp as his hand slides down the front of the pants. He always has the same effect on me; within seconds I feel myself pooling in my panties. His other hand cups my breast and he hisses as he flicks his thumb over my sensitive nipple, making me glad I decided not to sleep in my bra.

“I can’t get enough of you, Tess.” His raspy voice is even deeper, filled with lust. His hand cups me over my panties and he pulls me as close to him as possible. His erection presses against me. I reach down and take his hand, removing it from my pants. When I turn to face him, a frown covers his face.

“I . . . I want to do something for you,” I whisper slowly, embarrassed.

A smile overtakes the frown and he takes my chin in between his fingers, forcing me to look at him.

“What do you want to do?” he asks. I don’t know, exactly; I just know I want to make him feel as good as he does me. I want to see him lose control like I did in this same room.

“I don’t know . . . what do you want me to do?” My lack of experience is evident in my tone.

Hardin puts my hands in his and slides them down to the bulge in his pants. “I really want those plump lips wrapped around me.”

I gasp at his words, and feel the pressure in between my thighs.

“Is that something you want?” he asks, his hands moving circles over his crotch. His dark eyes regard me, gauging my reaction.

I nod and gulp, earning a smile from him. He sits up and pulls me to join him. Nervousness and want both flood my body. The loud jingle of his ringtone echoes through the room and he groans before snatching his phone off the table. His eyes meet the screen and he sighs.

“I’ll be right back,” he informs me and disappears out of the
room. He returns a few minutes later and his mood has changed once more.

“Karen is making breakfast. It’s almost finished.” He pulls open the dresser and grabs a T-shirt, tossing it over his head without looking in my direction.

“Okay.” I stand up and go to the door, needing to put a bra on before I go see his family.

“See you downstairs.” His tone is emotionless.

I swallow the lump rising in my throat. Guarded Hardin is my least favorite Hardin, even less liked than angry Hardin.
Who called him, and why did it make him so distant? Why can’t he just stay in a good mood?

I nod and walk across the hall, smelling bacon that causes my stomach to grumble.

I put my bra on, and pull the drawstring on the plaid pants as tight as it will go. I contemplate putting my dress back on, but I really don’t want to be uncomfortable this early in the morning. Checking the large mirror on the wall, I run my fingers through my unruly hair and wipe the sleep from my eyes.

As I close the bedroom door, Hardin opens his. Instead of looking at him, I focus on the wallpaper and walk forward down the hall. I can hear his steps behind me, and when I reach the staircase his hand wraps around my elbow, pulling me gently.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, worry clouding his features.

“Nothing, Hardin,” I snap. I am overly emotional and I haven’t even had breakfast yet.

“Tell me,” he demands, dipping his head so that his face is in full view.

I give in. “Who called you?”

“No one.”

He lies.
“Was it Molly?” I don’t want to know the answer.

He doesn’t say anything, but his expression gives away that I’m right. He left the room as I was about to . . . do that to
him . . . to answer a phone call from Molly? I should be more surprised than I am.

“Tessa, it’s not . . .” he begins. I pull my arm from his grip and he clenches his jaw.

“Hey, guys.” Landon appears in the hall, and I smile. His hair is sticking up slightly and he wears plaid pants similar to mine. He looks adorable and sleepy. I pass Hardin and move toward Landon. I refuse to let Hardin know how embarrassed and hurt I am by him answering Molly’s call while we were together like that.

“How did you sleep last night?” Landon asks and I follow him down the stairs, leaving a frustrated Hardin to himself.

Karen has gone all out on breakfast, like I could have predicted she would. Hardin joins us at the table a few minutes later, but I’ve already piled eggs, bacon, toast, a waffle, and a few grapes on my plate.

“Thank you so much for making this breakfast for us,” I tell Karen on mine and Hardin’s behalf; I know he won’t be bothered with thanking her.

“It’s my pleasure, dear—how did you sleep? I hope the storm didn’t keep you awake.” She smiles.

Hardin tenses beside me, probably worried I will mention his nightmare. He should know by now I would never do that, so his lack of trust only bothers me more.

“I slept great, actually. I sure didn’t miss my bed in my dorm!” I laugh and everyone joins me, everyone except Hardin, of course. He takes a drink of his orange juice and keeps his eyes focused on the wall. Mindless breakfast chatter fills the dining room as Ken and Landon banter about some football game.

AFTER BREAKFAST,
I help Karen clean up the kitchen once more. Hardin hovers in the doorway, not offering to help but just watching me.

“If you don’t mind me asking, is that a greenhouse in the backyard?” I ask Karen.

“Why yes, it is. I haven’t done much with it this year, but I absolutely love gardening. You should have seen it last summer,” she says. “Do you like to garden?”

“Oh, yes, my mother has a greenhouse out back as well and it was where I spent most of my free time as a child.”

“Really? Well, maybe if you two come around more often, we could make something out of mine,” she says. She is so kind, and loving. Everything I wish I had in a mother.

I smile. “That would be lovely.”

Hardin disappears momentarily, and when he returns he clears his throat loudly. We both turn to look at him.

“We should get going soon,” he says and I frown. He has my clothes and purse in his hands, holding out my Toms. It’s a little weird he doesn’t give me a moment to change out of the pajamas, and a little discomforting that he went through my things, but I overlook it. We say our goodbyes and I hug Karen and Ken while Hardin waits impatiently by the door.

I promise them that we will return soon, and hope that it will come true. I knew my time here would end, but it has been such a nice departure from my normal life, no lists, no alarms, no obligations. I am not ready for it to end.

T
he car ride is awkward. I hold my clothes on my lap and stare out the window, waiting to see if Hardin is going to break the silence that hangs between us. He makes no move to speak so I pull my phone out of my purse. It’s off; it must have died last night. I try to turn it on anyway and the screen comes to life. I am relieved to find that I have no new voicemails or texts. The only noise in the car is the light rain and the slow screech of the windshield wipers.

“Are you still mad?” he finally asks as he pulls onto campus.

“No,” I lie. I am not exactly mad, just hurt.

“It sure seems like you are. Don’t act like a child.”

“Well, I am not. I couldn’t care less if you want to drop me off so you can go hook up with Molly.” The words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them. I hate the way I feel about him and Molly. It makes me sick to my stomach to think of them together. What is it about her, anyway? Her pink hair? Her tattoos?

“That’s not what I am doing. Not that it’s your business,” he scoffs.

“Yeah, well, you jumped to answer your phone when I was about to . . . well, you know,” I mutter. I should have just stayed quiet. I don’t want to fight with Hardin right now. Especially when I don’t know when I will see him again. I really wish he hadn’t dropped Literature. He just pushes my buttons, every single one.

“It isn’t like that, Theresa,” he says.

So we are back to Theresa?

“Really, Hardin? It seems like it is to me. I don’t really give a crap anyway. I knew it wouldn’t last,” I finally admit to him and myself. The reason I didn’t want to leave his father’s house is that I knew once it was just Hardin and me, it would go back to this. It always does.

“What wouldn’t last?”

“This . . . us. You being decent to me.” I don’t dare to look at him; that’s how he gets me to turn to putty every time.

“So what then? You’re going to avoid me for another week? We both know that by this weekend you’ll be back in my bed,” he snaps.

He surely did not just say that.

“Ex-
cuse me
?!” I shout. I am at a loss for words. No one has ever talked to me the way he has—no one has ever been so disrespectful. Tears brim over my eyes as the car slows to park.

Before he can respond, I open the door, grab my things, and bolt toward my room. I cut across the soaking grass and curse at myself for not taking the sidewalk, but I just need to get as far away from Hardin as possible. When he said he wants me, he meant
sexually
. I knew this but it hurts to let it soak in.

“Tessa!” I hear him call. One of Steph’s heels drops and falls to the ground but I keep running. I will get her a new pair.

“Damn it, Tessa! Stop!” he yells again. I hadn’t expected him to follow me. I push myself to run faster, and finally I reach my building and run down the hall. By the time I reach my dorm room, I am full-on sobbing. I yank the door open, then slam it shut behind me. My tears mix with the rain and I turn to look for my bath towel to clean off with—

And am frozen in place when I see Noah sitting on my bed.

Oh God, not now.
Hardin will be crashing through the door any second.

Noah gets up and rushes toward me. “Tessa, what is wrong?
Where have you been?” His hand tries to cup my cheek, but I turn my head. Pain flashes in his eyes as I turn away from his touch.

“It’s . . . I am so sorry, Noah,” I cry as Hardin yanks the door open, the hinges squeaking and cracking from his might.

Noah’s eyes widen and narrow as his gaze meets Hardin’s. He backs away from me with a horrified expression. Hardin tosses the high heel that I left behind and walks farther into the room without acknowledging Noah’s presence at all.

“I didn’t mean that, what I just said,” he says.

Noah looks at me, hatred laced through his voice as he exclaims, “That’s where you were? You were with him all night? Are those his clothes? I tried to call you and text you all night and all morning—I left you
countless
voicemails and you were with
him
?”

“What? I—” I start, but then turn to Hardin. “You went through my phone, didn’t you? You deleted the messages!” I shout at him. My head tells me to answer Noah, but my heart is focused only on Hardin.

“Yeah . . . I did,” he admits.

“Why the hell would you do that? You can answer Molly’s calls, but you delete my messages from my boyfriend?!”

He winces as I call Noah my boyfriend.

“How dare you play these games with me, Hardin!” I scream, sobbing again.

Noah grabs my wrist and turns me to face him, which only prompts Hardin to shove Noah back by his shoulders.

“Do not touch her,” he growls.

This is not happening
. I watch as the daytime soap opera that has become my life unfolds in front of me.

“You don’t tell me what to do with my girlfriend, you prick,” Noah says angrily, and shoves Hardin.

Hardin advances toward Noah once more, but I grab his shirt
and pull him back. Maybe I should let them fight each other. Hardin deserves a good punch in the jaw.

“Stop it! Hardin, just go!” I wipe my tears.

Hardin glares at Noah again and moves to stand in front of me. I reach over and gently place my palm against Hardin’s back, hoping it may help calm him.

“No, I’m not leaving this time, Tessa. I have already done that too many times.” He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair.

“Tessa, make him leave!” Noah begs, but I ignore him. I have to know what Hardin will say.

“I didn’t mean what I said in the car, and I don’t know why I took Molly’s phone call. It’s a habit, I guess—please just give me another chance. I know you have already given me too many chances, but I just need one more. Please, Tess.” He lets out a big breath. He sounds exhausted.

“Why should I, Hardin? I have continued to give you chances to be my friend over and over,” I tell him. “I don’t think I have it in me to try again.” I am faintly aware of Noah gaping at us, but at the moment I don’t care. I know this is wrong—I’m wrong—but I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life.

“I don’t just want to be friends . . . I want more.” His words knock the wind right out of me.

“No, you don’t.”
Hardin doesn’t date,
my subconscious warns.

“Yes, I do. I do.”

“You said you don’t date and that I wasn’t your type,” I remind him. My mind still can’t wrap itself around the fact that I am having this conversation with Hardin, in front of Noah, at that.

“You aren’t my type, just the way that I am not yours. But that’s why we are good for each other—we are so different, yet we’re the same. You told me once that I bring out the worst in you. Well, you bring out the best in me. I know you feel it, too, Tessa. And yes, I didn’t date, until you. You make me want to
date, you make me want to be better. I want you to think I am worthy of you; I want you to want me the way I do you. I want to fight with you, even scream at each other until one of us admits we are wrong. I want to make you laugh, and listen to you ramble about classic novels. I just . . . I need you. I know I am cruel at times . . . well, all the time, but that’s only because I don’t know how else to be.” His voice becomes a half whisper, his eyes wild. “This has been me for so long, I have never wanted to be any other way. Until now, until you.”

I am dumbfounded. He’s said everything I wanted him to say but never imagined that he actually would. This is not the Hardin I know, but the way his words came out in a rushed string, and the heavy breathing that accompanied them, somehow make it all the more true and natural.