After We Collided (The After Series) (44 page)

“I wasn’t! I was just thinking,” I admit.

“About what?” He sits down on the toilet, and I close the curtain.

“Just about before . . .”

“Before what?” he asks, his tone full of worry.

“The first day of college and how you were so rude,” I tease.

“Rude? I didn’t even speak to you!”

I laugh. “Exactly.”

“You were so annoying with your dreadful skirt and your loafer-wearing boyfriend.” He claps with glee. “Your mum’s face was priceless when she saw us.”

My chest tenses at the mention of my mother. I miss her, but I refuse to take the blame for her mistakes. When she’s ready to stop judging Hardin and me, then I’ll talk to her, but if she doesn’t do that, then she doesn’t deserve my time.

“You were annoying with your . . . well . . . your attitude.” I can’t think of what to say, because he didn’t speak to me the first time I met him.

“Remember the second time I saw you? You were in a towel and you were carrying those wet clothes.”

“Yes, and you said you wouldn’t look at me,” I recall.

“I lied. I was certainly looking at you.”

“It seems so long ago, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, very long ago. It doesn’t seem like those things actually happened; now it seems like it’s always been us, you know what I mean?”

I pop my head around the curtain and smile. “I do, actually.” It’s true—but so odd to think about Noah being my boyfriend instead of Hardin. It doesn’t sit right. I care for Noah so much, but both of us wasted years of our lives dating each other. I turn off the shower and push him to the back of my mind.

“Can you . . .” I begin to ask, but before I finish, Hardin tosses a towel over the top of the curtain.

“Thanks,” I say while wrapping the cloth around my wet body.

Hardin follows me into our bedroom, and I get dressed as fast as possible while he lies on his stomach on our bed, his eyes never leaving me. I towel-dry my hair and get dressed. Hardin does a good job at distracting me with not so subtle gropes during the process.

“I’m driving you,” he says and climbs off the bed to get himself dressed.

“We already had that established, remember?” I remind him.

“Shut up, Tess.” He shakes his head playfully, and I smile a mock-innocent smile before heading back into the living room.

I decide to wear my hair straight for once. After I apply light makeup, I grab my bag and take another look inside to make sure everything I need is inside before meeting Hardin by the front
door. Hardin carries my gym bag for yoga class, and I carry my bag full of everything else that I could possibly need.

“Go ahead,” he says as we step out.

“What?” I turn to look at him.

“Go ahead and spaz,” he says with a sigh.

I smile at him and tell him the intricate plans for the day, for the tenth time in twenty-four hours.

As he pretends to listen carefully, I promise him and myself that I’ll be much more relaxed tomorrow.

H
ardin parks as close to the coffeehouse as he can manage, but the campus is crowded since everyone has returned from Christmas break. He curses the entire time he circles each parking lot, and I try not to laugh at his annoyance. It’s quite adorable.

“Give me your bag,” Hardin says when I get out of the car.

I hand it to him with a smile and thank him for the thoughtful gesture. It’s pretty heavy, manageable but heavy.

It feels strange being back on campus; so much has changed and happened since I was last here. The cold wind whips against my skin, and Hardin pulls a beanie over his head before zipping his jacket up all the way. We rush through the parking lot and down the street. I should have brought a thicker jacket, and gloves, and even a hat for myself. Hardin was right when he said I shouldn’t wear the dress, but there is no way I am admitting that.

Hardin looks adorable with his hair hidden under the beanie, and his cheeks and nose are red from the cold. Only Hardin would look even more attractive in this harsh weather.

“There he is.” He points to Landon as we walk inside the coffee shop.

The familiarity of the small space calms my nerves, and I smile as soon as I see my closest friend sitting at a small table waiting for me.

Landon smiles when he spots us, and when we get near he greets us. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” I chirp back.

“I’ll get in line,” Hardin mumbles and heads to the counter.

I didn’t expect him to stay, or get my coffee, but I’m glad he does. We don’t have any classes together this semester, and I’ll miss seeing him since I’ve gotten used to seeing him all day.

“Ready for the new semester?” Landon asks when I take a seat across from him. The chair squeaks against the tile floor, drawing attention to us, and I smile apologetically before taking a good look at Landon.

He’s tried a new hairstyle, pushing his hair up off his forehead—and it looks really good on him. As I look around the coffee shop, I begin to realize I probably should’ve just worn jeans and a sweatshirt. I’m the only person in the place who’s remotely dressed up save for Landon in his light blue button-down shirt and khakis.

“Yes, and no,” I tell him, and he agrees.

“Same. How are things . . .”—he leans across the table to whisper—“you know, between you two?”

I look over and see Hardin has his back to us, but the barista’s face is in a deep scowl. She rolls her eyes as he hands her his debit card, and I wonder what he could have done to her to irritate her so much this early in the day.

“Good, actually. How are things with Dakota? It feels much longer than a week since we’ve seen each other.”

“Good, she’s preparing for New York.”

“That is so amazing, I’d love to go to New York.” I can’t imagine what the city is like.

“Me, too.” He smiles, and I want to tell him not to go, but I know that I can’t. “I haven’t made my mind up yet,” he says, answering my thoughts. “I want to go and be close to her—we’ve lived so far for so long. But I love WCU and don’t know if I want to be away from my mom and Ken to go to a huge city where I know absolutely no one, except her, of course.”

I nod, and try to be encouraging despite myself. “You would
do amazing there—you could go to NYU and the two of you could get an apartment,” I say.

“Yeah, I just don’t know yet.”

“Know what?” Hardin interrupts, setting my coffee in front of me but not sitting down. “Never mind. I’ve got to go, my first class begins in five minutes on the opposite side of campus,” he says, and I cringe at the thought of running late on the first day of new classes.

“Okay, I’ll see you after yoga. It’s my last class,” I tell him, and he surprises me by leaning down and planting a kiss on my lips, then my forehead.

“I love you, be careful being bendy,” he says, and I get the feeling that if his cheeks weren’t red from the cold, they would be now; his eyes shift to the floor when he remembers Landon is sitting across from us. Public displays of affection are definitely not his thing.

“I will. I love you,” I tell him, and he gives Landon an uncomfortable head nod before walking toward the door.

“That was . . . weird.” Landon lifts his eyebrows and takes a drink of his coffee.

“Yeah, it was.” I laugh and rest my chin on my hand and sigh happily.

“We should get going to Religion,” Landon says, and I grab my bag from the floor and follow him outside.

Luckily we don’t have a long walk to our first class. I’m excited about World Religion. It should be very interesting and thought provoking, and having Landon there is an added bonus. When we enter the room, we aren’t the first students to arrive, but the front row is completely empty. Landon and I sit down in the front center and take our books out. It feels good to be back in my element—academics has always been my thing, and I love that Landon feels the same.

We wait patiently as the room fills with students, most of
whom are obnoxiously loud. The compactness of the classroom doesn’t help with the noise, either.

At last, a tall man who looks too young to be a professor strides in and immediately launches into his lesson. “Good morning, everyone. As most of you know by now, my name is Professor Soto. This is World Religion; you may get bored a few times, and I can promise you that you’ll learn a heap of facts that you’ll never actually use in the real world—but hey, what is college for?” He smiles and everyone laughs.

Well, this is different.

“So let’s get started. There is no syllabus for this course. We will not be following a strict outline—that isn’t my style . . . but you’ll learn all that you need to know by the end date. Seventy-five percent of your grade will come from a journal that you’ll be required to keep. And I know you’re thinking: What does a journal have to do with religion? It doesn’t per se . . . but in a way it does. In order to study and really understand any form of spirituality, you have to be open to the idea of anything and everything. Keeping a journal will help with that, and some of the things I’ll have you write about will involve topics that people aren’t comfortable with, topics that are very controversial and uncomfortable for some. But all the same, I have high hopes that everyone will leave this class with an open mind and maybe a little knowledge.” He beams and unbuttons his jacket.

Landon and I both turn to look at each other at the same time.
No syllabus?
Landon mouths.

A journal?
I reply silently.

Professor Soto takes a seat at the large desk in the front of the room and pulls a bottle of water from his bag. “You can talk amongst yourselves until the end of class, or you can go ahead and go for today and we’ll begin the real work tomorrow. Just sign the roster so I can see how many flakes we had that didn’t show for the first day,” he announces with a playful grin.

The class howls and cheers before departing quickly, Landon shrugs at me, and we both stand up after the room is empty. We’re the last to sign the attendance roster.

“Well, I guess this is cool. I can call Dakota for a little while between classes,” he says and packs his things.

THE REST OF THE DAY
goes by quickly, and I’m eager to see Hardin. I’ve sent him a few text messages, but he has yet to respond. My feet are killing me as I make my way to the athletic building; I hadn’t realized how far of a walk it would be. The smell of sweat invades my nostrils as soon as I open the main door, and I hurry to the locker room labeled with a stick figure in a dress. The walls are lined with thin red lockers, the metal showing through the chipped paint job.

“How do we know which locker to use?” I ask a short brunette wearing a bathing suit.

“Just pick one and use the lock you brought,” she says.

“Oh . . .” Of course, I didn’t think to bring a lock.

Seeing my expression, she digs into her bag and hands me a small lock. “Here, I have an extra. The combination is on the back; I haven’t removed the sticker.”

I thank her as she walks out of the room. After I’m changed into a new pair of black yoga pants and a white T-shirt, I head out. As I walk down the hall to the yoga room, a group of lacrosse players pass by, several of them making a vulgar remark that I choose to ignore. All of them except one keeps moving.

“You trying out for cheer next year?” the boy asks, his deep brown, almost black eyes looking me up and down.

“Me? No, I’m just on my way to yoga class,” I stammer. We are the only people in this hall.

“Oh, that’s too bad. You would look phenomenal in a skirt.”

“I have a boyfriend,” I announce and try to move around him. He blocks me.

“I have a girlfriend . . . what does that matter?” He smiles and takes a step, cornering me.

He doesn’t appear intimidating at all, but something about his cocky smile makes my skin crawl. “I need to get to class,” I say.

“I can walk you . . . or you can skip and I could show you around.” He puts his arm up on the wall next to my head, and I step backward with nowhere to go.

“Get the fuck away from her.”
Hardin’s voice booms from behind me, and the creep turns his head to look at him.

He looks more intimidating than ever in long basketball shorts and a black T-shirt with the sleeves cut off to reveal his tattooed arms.

“I’m . . . sorry, man, I didn’t know she had a boyfriend,” he lies.

“Did you not hear me? I said get the fuck away from her.” Hardin walks toward us, and the lacrosse player backs away quickly, but Hardin grabs hold of his shirt and slams him against the wall.

I don’t stop him.

“Come near her again and I’ll crack your skull against this wall. Do you understand me?” he growls.

“Ye-yes . . .” the guy stutters and rushes down the hall.

“Thank God,” I say and wrap my arm around his neck. “Why are you here? I thought you didn’t need any more PE classes?” I ask.

“I decided to take one. And good thing.” He sighs and takes my hand into his.

“Which one?” I ask. I can’t imagine Hardin being athletic at all.

“Yours.”

I gasp. “You
didn’t
.”

“Oh, yes I did.” His anger seems to be dissolved as he smiles at my horrified expression.

H
ardin makes it a point to walk slightly behind me, and I suddenly want to go back to the tenth grade when I would tie a sweater around my waist to hide myself.

His voice is quiet as he says, “You’re going to need to get more of these pants.”

I remember the last time I wore yoga pants in front of Hardin and the crude remarks he made, and those yoga pants weren’t as tight as these. I laugh lightly and grab his hand to force him to walk next to me instead of behind me.

“You aren’t seriously taking yoga.” No matter how hard I try to picture Hardin posing, the image just won’t come.

“Yeah, I am.”

“You do know what yoga is, don’t you?” I ask him as we walk into the room.

“Yes, Tessa. I know what it is, and I’m taking it with you,” he huffs.

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter why—I just want to spend more time with you.”