After We Collided (The After Series) (67 page)

“Can we talk, please?” Tessa surprises me by asking when she stands up.

“Yeah, of course.” I follow her upstairs and into the room she’s been staying in.

I can’t tell if she’s going to scream at me or cry when she closes the door behind me.

“I saw the cake . . .” I decide to speak first.

“Did you?” She sounds almost uninterested and she takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah . . . it was . . . nice of you.”

“Yeah . . .”

“I’m sorry for going to the party instead of asking you to spend time with me.”

She closes her eyes for a few seconds and takes a deep breath before opening them again. “Okay,” she says in a monotone voice.

The way she’s staring out the window with no emotion on her face gives me the chills. She looks as if someone has sucked the life out of her . . .

Someone has.

Me.

“I really am sorry. I didn’t think you wanted to see me; you said you were busy.”

“How could you think that? I waited for you as ‘I’ll be there in thirty minutes’ turned into two hours.” She still sounds so emotionless, and the hair on the back of my neck is standing up from it.

“What are you talking about?”

“You said you said you’d be here, and you weren’t. Simple as that.” I really wish she’d scream at me.

“I didn’t say I’d be here. I asked you if you wanted to come to the party and then I even texted and called you last night, but you didn’t answer to either.”

“Wow. You must’ve been really drunk,” she says slowly, and I move to stand in front of her.

Even though I’m right here, she doesn’t look at me. She stares off into space, and it’s really unsettling. I’m used to her fire, to her stubbornness, to her tears . . . but I’m not used to this.

“What do you mean? I called you—”

“Yeah, at midnight.”

“I know I’m not as smart as you, but I’m really fucking confused right now,” I tell her.

“Why did you change your mind? What made you not come?” she asks.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to be here. I texted you and said ‘hey,’ but you never responded.”

“Yes, I did, so did you. You said you weren’t having fun and you asked if you could come over.”

“No . . . I didn’t.” Was she drunk that night?

“Yes, you did.” She holds her phone in the air and I grab it from her.

Lame. Can I come over?

Yeah, how long until you’ll be here?

Thirty minutes.

What the fuck?

“I didn’t send those, that wasn’t me.” I try to replay the night. She doesn’t say anything, she only picks at her fingernails. “Tessa, if I had thought for a second that you were waiting on me, I would have been here with you.”

“You’re honestly telling me you didn’t text me, when I just showed you proof that you did?” She almost laughs.

I need her to yell at me; at least when she’s yelling I know she cares. “Did I not just say that?” I bark.

She stays silent. “Who did, then?”

“I don’t know . . . shit, I don’t know who . . . Zed! That’s who it fucking was—it was Zed.” That fucker handed me my phone from where he was sitting on the couch; he must have been texting Tessa acting like he was me so she would be waiting on me.

“Zed? You’re really trying to blame Zed for this?”

“Yes! That’s exactly what I’m doing. He sat down on the couch right after me and handed me my phone. I know it was him, Tessa,” I tell her.

Her eyes flash with confusion and for a second I know she believes me, but she shakes her head. “I don’t know . . .” She seems to be talking to herself.

“I wouldn’t tell you I was coming and not show, Tess. I’ve been trying hard, so damn hard, to show you that I can change. I wouldn’t stand you up like that, not anymore. That party was so fucking boring anyway, and I was miserable without you there—”

“So,
were
you?” She raises her voice and stands from the bed.

Here we go.

“Were you miserable while there were strippers there?” she yells.

Fuck.
“Yes! I didn’t even stay after they got there! Wait . . . how do you know about the strippers?”

“Does that
matter
?” she challenges me.

“Yes! It matters; it was him, wasn’t it? It was Zed! He’s filling your head with all this bullshit to make you turn on me!” I yell back at her. I fucking knew he was up to something. I just didn’t know he’d stoop that low. He texted her from my phone and then deleted the messages. Is he really that fucking stupid that he would fuck with my relationship again? I’m going to find that little shit—

“He is not!” she yells, interrupting my rage.

Oh my fuck.
“Okay, then, let’s call your precious fucking Zed and ask him.” I grab her phone again and pull up his name . . . in her favorites list. Goddamn, I want to smash her phone against the goddamn wall.

“Do not call him,” she growls at me, but I ignore her.

He doesn’t answer. Of fucking course.

“What else did he tell you?” I am fucking fuming.

“Nothing,” she lies.

“You’re a terrible liar, Tessa. What else did he tell you?”

She glares at me with her arms crossed, and I await her answer.

“Huh?” I press.

“That you were hanging out with Jace the night I was at his house.” My anger is threatening to get the best of me. “You wanna know who hangs out with Jace, Tess? Fucking Zed, that’s who. They hang out all the time. I went there to ask him about you two since you want to fucking shack up with him all of a sudden.”

“Shack up with him? I wasn’t shacking up with anyone! I stayed there those times because I like his company and he’s always so kind to me! Unlike you!” She steps toward me.

I wanted her to yell at me and now she won’t stop, but it’s much better than her sitting there like she didn’t give a shit.

“He’s not as sweet as you think he is, Tessa! How can you not
see that! He’s feeding you all this bullshit to get to you. He wants to fuck you, that’s all. Don’t flatter yourself and think he . . .” I stop myself. I meant the part about Zed but not the rest. “I didn’t mean that last part,” I say, trying to stoke the anger in her instead of the sadness.

“Sure you didn’t.” She rolls her eyes.

I can’t believe we’re having this fight over Zed. This is such bullshit; I told her to stay away from him, but being the stubborn girl she is, she doesn’t listen to shit I say.

At least she said she wasn’t shacking up with him when she stayed with him those times . . .
times
?

“How many times did you stay at his house?” I ask her, praying I heard her wrong.

“You already know this.” She’s getting angrier as the seconds pass, and so am I.

“Can we just try to talk about this calmly, because I’m this fucking close to losing my shit and that won’t be good for anyone.” I pinch my fingers together to prove my point.

“I tried that, and you—”

“Would you just shut up for two seconds and listen to me!” I yell and run my fingers through my hair.

And surprisingly, she does the exact opposite of what I thought she was going to do when she walks over to the bed, sits down on it, and shuts her damn mouth.

I DON’T REALLY KNOW
what to say or how to begin, because I didn’t expect her to actually listen to me.

I move toward her and stand in front of where she’s sitting on the bed; she looks up at me with an unreadable expression, and I pace back and forth for a few seconds before stopping to talk.

“Thank you.” I sigh in relief and frustration. “Okay . . . so this is all just twisted around and fucked up. You thought I asked to come over and then I stood you up; you should know by now that I wouldn’t do that.”

“Should I?” she interrupts.

I don’t know how I expect her to know that by now, when I have done so much shit. “You’re right . . . but be quiet,” I say, and she rolls her eyes.

“My party fucking sucked, and I wouldn’t have even gone if you didn’t want me to. I didn’t drink at all—well, actually I did have one drink, but that’s all. I didn’t talk to any other girls, I barely spoke to Molly, and I sure as hell wasn’t hanging out with strippers. Why the fuck would I want anything to do with a stripper when I have you?”

Her eyes soften slightly, and she’s no longer glaring at me like she wants to chop my fucking head off. It’s a start.

“Not that I have you . . . but I’m trying to have you again. I don’t want anyone else. More importantly, I don’t want you to want anyone else either. I don’t know why you would run to Zed, anyway. I know he’s nice to you blah blah blah . . . but he’s full of shit.”

“He hasn’t done anything to make me think that, Hardin,” she insists.

“He texted you from my phone pretending to be me, he purposely told you about the strippers—”

“You don’t know that he texted me, and I’m actually glad to have learned about the strippers.”

“I would have told you if you’d answered when I called you. I had no idea what was going on. I didn’t know you made me a cake or that you were waiting on me. It’s already hard enough to get you to see that I’m trying here, but then he has to come in between us and plant these ideas in your head.”

She stays silent.

“So where do we go from here, Tess? I need to know, because this back-and-forth shit’s killing me and I can’t give you space any longer.” I kneel down in front of her, and her eyes meet mine as I wait for an answer.

I
don’t know what to do or say to Hardin at this point.

Part of me knows he isn’t lying to me about the texts, but I don’t think Zed would do that to me. I just got finished talking to him about everything with Hardin, and he was so kind and understanding.

But this is Hardin.

His voice is low and slow, but he presses: “Can you give me an answer?”

“I don’t know, I’m tired of the back-and-forth, too. It’s so exhausting and I can’t do it anymore, I really can’t,” I tell him.

“But I didn’t do anything; we were fine until yesterday, and none of this is my fault. I know it usually is, but not this time. I’m sorry I didn’t spend my birthday with you. I know I should have, and I’m sorry,” Hardin says.

He rests his palms on his thighs as he sits in front of me on his knees, not begging like before but just waiting.

If he’s telling the truth about not sending the texts, which I believe he is, then this really is just a misunderstanding.

“When will it stop, though? I’ve had enough of all of it. I had such a great time when you took me out, but then you wouldn’t even stay until morning.” It’s been bothering me that he left like that, but I hadn’t fully realized it, I guess.

“I didn’t stick around because—per Landon, who I
also
consulted—I’m trying to give you space. I’m shit at it, obviously, but I thought if I gave you a little space you would have time to think about all of this and it would be easier for you,” he tells me.

“It’s not easier for me, but it’s not all about me. It’s about you, too,” I tell him.

“What?” he questions.

“It’s not only about me. I mean, this has to be exhausting for you, too.”

“Who gives a shit about me? I just want you to be okay and for you to know that I’m really trying here.”

“I do.”

“You do what? Believe that I’m trying?” he asks.

“That, and I give a shit about you,” I tell him.

“So what are we doing, Tessa? Are we okay now? Or at least on the road to being okay?” He lifts his hand and brings it to my cheek.

He looks at me for approval and I don’t stop him.

“Why are we both so crazy?” I whisper as his thumb runs over my bottom lip.

“I’m not. You surely are, though.” He smiles.

“You’re crazier than me,” I tell him, and he inches closer and closer.

I’m irritated at him for yelling at me and for making me wait for him last night even though he supposedly had nothing to do with it, I’m upset that we can’t seem to get along, but more than all of that I miss him. I miss the closeness between us. I miss the way his eyes change when he looks at me.

I have to admit my faults and the role I played in all of this mess. I know how stubborn I am, and it doesn’t help anything when I assume the worst about him when he’s trying, I know he is. I’m not ready to be in a relationship with him, but I have no reason to be upset with him over last night. I hope not, at least.

I don’t know what to think, but I don’t want to think right now.

“No,” he whispers, his lips mere centimeters from mine.

“Yes.”

“Shut up.” He presses his lips against mine with extreme caution. They barely touch mine as he uses both hands to cup my cheeks.

His tongue grazes along my bottom lip, and I lose my breath. I open my mouth slightly to try to get some air, but there doesn’t seem to be any—there’s nothing, only him. I tug at his shirt to bring him off of his knees, but he doesn’t budge as he continues to kiss me slowly. His torturous pace is driving me mad, and I move from my spot at the end of the bed down to meet him on the floor.

Both of his arms wrap around my waist, and mine do the same to his neck. I try to push him back to climb on top of him, but once again he doesn’t budge.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing, I just don’t want to take it too far.”

“Why not?” I tell him, keeping our lips touching.

“Because we have a lot to talk about; we can’t jump into bed without resolving anything.”

What?
“But we aren’t on the bed, we’re on the floor.” I sound desperate.

“Tessa . . .” He pushes me back again.

I give up. I scramble to my feet and sit back on the bed, and he stares at me with wide eyes.

“I’m just trying to do the right thing, okay? I want to fuck you, believe me I do. God, I do. But—”

“It’s fine. Stop talking about it,” I beg.

I know it’s probably not the best idea, but I didn’t necessarily think we were going to sleep together. I just wanted to be closer to him.

“Tess.”

“Just stop, okay? I get it.”

“No, you don’t, obviously,” he says in frustration and moves to his feet.