After We Collided (The After Series) (36 page)

“You should try them on,” he suggests with a cheeky smile.

“Pervert,” I tease.

“Always.” He smirks and follows me to the dressing room.

“You are not coming in here,” I scold him and close the door to the stall, leaving just enough room to pop my head out.

He pouts before taking a seat on the black leather couch outside the dressing room. “I want to see each one,” he calls when I close the door the rest of the way.

“Be quiet.”

I hear him chuckle, and I want to open the door just to see his smile, but I decide against it. I put the white strapless dress on first and struggle to zip it up the back: tight. Too tight and short, way too short. Finally I get the thin fabric to zip, and I tug at the bottom of the dress before opening the door to the dressing room.

“Hardin?” I almost whisper.

“Holy shit.” He practically gasps when he turns the corner and takes in the sight of me in the barely-there dress.

“It’s short.” I flush.

“Yeah, you aren’t getting that,” he says as his eyes move up and down my body.

“If I want to, I will,” I say, reminding him that he will not tell me what to wear.

He glares at me for a moment before speaking. “I know . . . I just meant you shouldn’t. It’s too revealing for your taste.”

“That’s what I thought.” I hum and look in the full-length mirror once more.

Hardin smirks, and I see him check out my bottom. “It
is
incredibly sexy, though.”

“Next,” I say and walk back into the dressing room.

The gold dress feels silky against my skin despite the entire dress being covered in tiny gold disks. It falls to the middle of my thighs, and the sleeves are quarter length. This is much more me, only a touch riskier than usual. The sleeves give the illusion of the dress being more conservative, but the way the material clings to my body and the short length say otherwise.

“Tess,” Hardin whines impatiently from directly outside. I open the door, and his reaction makes my heart flutter.

“Christ.” He swallows.

“You like it?” I chew my bottom lip. I feel pretty confident in the dress, especially after Hardin’s cheeks turn pink and he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“Very much.”

This is such a normal couple thing to be doing, trying on clothes for him at Macy’s, it feels strange yet very comforting. I was terrified a few days ago when he found out about my dinner with Trevor in Seattle.

“I’m going to get this one, then,” I say.

After finding a pair of thick and rather intimidating black pumps, we head to check-out. Hardin pesters me to let him pay, but I refuse, this time winning the battle.

“You’re right, you really should be buying
me
something . . . you know, to make up for the lack of Christmas gifts I received,” he teases as we exit the mall.

I swat at his arm, but he grabs my wrist before I can connect. His lips press a light kiss against my palm before he encases my hand in his and leads me to the car.
Holding hands in public is never our thing
 . . . As soon as the thought crosses my mind, he seems to realize what we’re doing and drops my hand. One step at a time, I suppose.

BACK AT THE APARTMENT,
after I’ve declared for the eighth time that we should hang out with his friends, my nerves begin to get the best of me as I imagine the possibilities of how the night could turn out. But we can’t hide from the world forever. How Hardin behaves around his old friends will really show me how he truly feels about me, about us.

When I shower, I shave my legs three times, staying under the hot water until it is no longer warm. When I get out, I ask Hardin, “What did Nate say about tonight?” I’m unsure what I want the answer to be.

“He texted to meet them at the house . . . my old house. At nine. They’re having a big thing, apparently.”

I glance at the clock: already seven. “Okay, I’ll be ready.”

I do my makeup and blow-dry my hair quickly. My hair is in tight curls, and I pin my bangs back as usual. I look . . . nice . . .

Boring. Boring.
The same as I always do. I need to look better than ever before for my comeback. This is my way of showing them that they didn’t get the best of me. If Molly is there, she’ll certainly be dressed to get attention, including Hardin’s. And as much as I hate her, she
is
gorgeous. Molly’s pink hair burning in the back of my mind, I grab my black eyeliner and draw a thick line across my top eyelid; for once the line is straight, blessedly. I do the same on the bottom and add more pink to my cheeks before pulling the bobby pin from my hair and tossing it in the trash.

Quickly, I retrieve the pin from the top of the trash. Okay, so maybe I’m not quite ready to throw it away yet, but I’ll skip it tonight. I flip my head down and rake my fingers through my tight curls. The reflection in the mirror shocks me. She looks like she belongs in a nightclub, she looks wild and . . . sexy, even. The last time that I wore this much makeup was when Steph gave me a “makeover” and Hardin taunted me. This time, I look even better.

“It’s eight thirty, Tess!” Hardin warns me from the living room.

I check the mirror one last time and take a deep breath before
rushing to the bedroom to get dressed before Hardin can see me.
What if he thinks I look bad?
Last time he didn’t care for my new and improved look. I shut off my doubtful thoughts and pull the dress over my head, zip it up, and step into my new pumps.

Maybe I should wear tights? No. I need to calm down and stop overthinking this.

“Tessa, we really need—” Hardin’s voice gets louder as he comes into the room, but then stops midsentence.

“Do I look—”

“Yes, fuck yes,” he practically growls.

“You don’t think it’s too much, all the makeup?”

“No, it’s . . . um . . . it’s nice, I mean . . . it’s good,” he stammers.

I try not to laugh at his apparent loss for words, something that never occurs with him. “Let’s go . . . we need to go now or we won’t make it out of this apartment,” he mutters.

His reaction has given my confidence an extreme boost. I know it shouldn’t, but it does. He looks flawless as usual, wearing a simple black T-shirt and snug black jeans. The black Converses I’ve quickly become fond of complete the look I know as “Hardin.”

T
he Fray quietly sings about forgiveness as we pull up to Hardin’s old fraternity house. The drive here was nerve-racking, and both of us stayed silent. Memories, mostly bad memories, flood my mind, but I push them back. Hardin and I are in a relationship now, a real one, so he’ll be different now.
Won’t he?

Hardin stays close to me as we walk through the crowded house to the smoke-filled living room. Red cups are immediately placed in our hands, but Hardin discards his quickly before taking mine from me. I reach to take it back, and he frowns.

“I don’t think we should drink tonight,” he says.

“I don’t think
you
should drink tonight.”

“Fine, only one,” he warns and hands me back the cup.

“Scott!” a familiar voice calls. Nate appears in the kitchen and pats Hardin’s shoulder before giving me a friendly smile. I’d almost forgotten how cute he is. I try to picture what he’d look like without tattoos and piercings, but I can’t seem to do it. “Wow, Tessa, you look . . . different,” he says.

Hardin rolls his eyes and grabs my drink from my hand to take a sip. I want to take it from him, but I don’t want to cause a fight. One drink won’t hurt. I slide my phone into Hardin’s back pocket so I can hold my cup more easily.

“Well . . . well . . . well . . . look who it is,” a female voice says at the same time as a mop of pink hair steps around a big round guy.

“Great.” Hardin groans as Molly the skank walks toward us.

“Long time no see, Hardin,” she says with a sinister grin.

“Yep.” He takes another drink from the cup.

Her eyes move to me. “Oh, Tessa! I didn’t see you there,” she says with obvious sarcasm.

I ignore her, and Nate hands me a new drink.

“Did you miss me?” Molly asks Hardin. She’s wearing more than usual, which is to say she’s still barely clothed. Her black shirt is ripped down the front, purposely, I assume. Her red shorts are incredibly short, with tears in the fabric going up the sides, revealing even more pale skin.

“Not so much,” Hardin says without looking at her. I bring the cup to my lips to hide my smirk.

“I’m sure you did,” she responds.

“Fuck off,” he groans.

She rolls her eyes like it’s all a game. “Jeez, someone is pissy.”

“Come on, Tessa.” Hardin grabs my hand and pulls me away. We walk to the kitchen, leaving an annoyed Molly and a laughing Nate behind.

“Tessa!” Steph squeals as she jumps up from one of the couches. “Damn, girl! You look so hot! Wow!” Then she adds, “I would actually wear that!”

“Thanks.” I smile. It’s a little awkward seeing Steph, but not nearly as bad as seeing Molly. I have honestly missed Steph and am hoping that tonight goes smoothly enough that we can explore the possibility of rebuilding our friendship.

She hugs me. “I’m glad you came.”

“I’m going to go talk to Logan—stay right here,” Hardin instructs before walking away.

Steph eyes him with humor. “Rude as ever, I see.” She laughs loudly over the raucous music and partygoers’ voices.

“Yeah . . . some things never change.” I smile and gulp down the remainder of the sweet drink in my cup. I hate to think about it, but the taste of cherries reminds me of my kiss with Zed.
His mouth was cold and his tongue sweet. It seems like another world, another Tessa, who shared that kiss with him.

As if Steph can read my thoughts, she taps my shoulder. “There’s Zed, have you seen him since . . . you know?” She points her zebra-print nail at a black-haired boy.

“No . . . I haven’t seen anyone, really. Except Hardin.”

“Zed felt like such an ass after everything. I almost felt sorry for him,” she says.

“Can we talk about something else, please?” I beg as his eyes meet mine and I look away.

“Oh yeah, shit; sorry. Want another drink?” she asks.

I smile to minimize the tension. “Yes, definitely.” I glance around the kitchen to where Zed was previously standing, but he’s gone. I chew on the inside of my cheek and look back at Steph, who is staring into her cup. Neither of us knows what exactly to say.

“Let’s go find Tristan,” she suggests.

“Hardin . . .” I begin to say that he asked me to stay put. But he didn’t ask, he demanded, which is annoying. I tip back my cup, gulping down the remainder of the cold drink. My cheeks are already getting warm from the alcohol running through me . . . My nerves are slightly calmer as I reach for yet another cup before following Steph into the living room.

The house is more crowded than I’ve ever seen it, and Hardin is nowhere to be found. Half of the living room has been taken over by a long card table filled with rows of red cups. Drunk college students throw Ping-Pong balls into the cups and then swallow the contents down. I’ll never understand the need for them to play all sorts of games when they’re intoxicated, but at least this one doesn’t seem to involve kissing. I spot Tristan sitting on the couch next to a redheaded guy who I remember seeing here before. He was smoking a joint with Jace the last time I saw him. Zed is seated on the arm of the couch and says something to the group, causing Tristan’s head to fall back from laughter. When
Tristan looks up at Steph walking toward him, he smiles. I’ve liked Nate’s roommate from the first time I met him. He’s sweet, and he seems to really care for Steph.

“How are things between the two of you?” I ask her before we approach them.

She turns her whole body to me and beams. “Great, actually. I think I love him!”

“Think? You guys haven’t said it yet?” I gasp.

“No . . . God no. We’ve only been dating three months!”

“Oh . . .” Hardin and I said the words before we were dating at all.

“You and Hardin are different,” she says quickly, only lending support to my suspicions that she can read my thoughts. “How are you two?” she asks, then looks past me.

“Good, we are good.” It’s great to be able to say, since we
are
good, for once.

“You two are really the oddest couple.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, we are.”

“It’s a good thing, though. Could you imagine if Hardin were to find a girl like him? I would never want to meet her, that’s for sure.” She laughs.

“Me either,” I say and join in her laughter.

Tristan waves to Steph, and she pads over to take a seat on his lap. “There’s my girl.” He gives her a swift kiss on the cheek, then looks at me. “And how are you, Tessa?”

“I am very well. How are you?” I ask. I sound like a politician.
Relax, Tessa.

“Fine. Drunk as shit, but fine.” He laughs.

“Where’s Hardin? I haven’t seen him,” the boy with the red hair asks me.

“He’s . . . well, I have no idea,” I answer and shrug.

“I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. I don’t see him going far from you,” Steph says to try and comfort me.

Actually, I don’t mind that I haven’t seen Hardin in a while, because the alcohol is making me less nervous, but I do wish he would return and hang out with me. These are all his friends, not mine. Except Steph, who I’m still deciding on. But right now she’s the person that I know the best, and I don’t want to stand here awkward and alone.

Someone bumps into me and I stumble forward slightly; luckily my drink is empty, so when the cup hits the already stained carpet, only a few drops of pink liquid dot the surface.

“Shit, sorry,” a drunk girl stutters.

“It’s fine, really,” I respond. Her black hair is so shiny that it literally makes me squint.
How is that even possible?
I must be more intoxicated than I thought.

“Come sit down before you get trampled over,” Steph teases, and I laugh before taking a seat on the edge of the couch.

“So did you hear about Jace?” Tristan asks.