After We Collided (The After Series) (20 page)

“It doesn’t matter why it happened.” I shake my head at him. I don’t know why he always jumps to these conclusions. Why is it so hard for him to accept that he is loved?

“You feel sorry for poor Hardin who has nightmares and can’t sleep in a fucking bed alone!” His voice is too loud, and we have company.

“Stop yelling! Your mom is in the other room!” I yell back.

“Is that what you two did all day . . . talk about me? I don’t need your fucking pity, Tess.”

“Oh my God! You are so frustrating! We did not talk about you, not in that way. And for the record, I do not feel sorry for you, I wanted you in that bed with me regardless of your dreams.” I cross my arms.

“Sure,”
he barks.

“This isn’t about how I feel; it’s about how you feel about yourself. You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself, if anything,” I say equally harshly.

“I don’t.”

“Seems like it. You just started a fight with me for no reason. We should be moving forward not backward.”

“Moving forward?” His eyes meet mine.

“Yeah . . . I mean may-maybe,” I stutter.

“Maybe?” He smiles.

And he’s so happy all of a sudden—he’s grinning like a small child on Christmas. He was just fighting with me, his cheeks flushed in anger. And strangely, I feel most of my anger evaporating as well. The control that he holds over my emotions terrifies me. “You are insane, literally,” I tell him.

He gives me a killer smirk. “Your hair looks nice.”

“You need to be medicated,” I tease, and he laughs.

“I wouldn’t argue there,” he responds.

And I can’t help but laugh with him . . . Maybe I’m just as crazy as he is.

O
ur moment together is interrupted when my phone vibrates and dances across the dresser. Hardin grabs it for me, looks at the screen, and says, “Landon.”

Taking the phone from him, I answer, “Hello?”

“Hey, Tessa,” Landon says. “So, my mum wanted me to call and see if you were coming over for Christmas?”

His mom is so nice. And I bet she makes a great Christmas spread. “Oh . . . yeah, I’d love to. What time should I be there?” I reply.

“Noon.” He laughs. “She’s already started cooking, so if I were you, I wouldn’t eat anything until then.”

“I’ll start fasting now,” I joke. “Anything I should bring? I know Karen’s a much better cook than me, but I could make something—dessert, maybe?”

“Yeah, you can bring a dessert . . . and also . . . I know this is awkward, and if you aren’t comfortable with it, then that’s okay.” His voice lowers. “But they want to invite Hardin and his mum. But if you and Hardin aren’t getting along—”

“We are. Sort of,” I interrupt. Hardin raises his brow at my reply, and I give him a nervous smile.

Landon lets out a little breath. “Super. If you could just pass the invite along, they would really appreciate it.”

“I will,” I assure him, and then something occurs to me. “What should I get them, giftwise?”

“No, no—nothing! You don’t have to bring gifts.”

I keep my eyes on the wall and try not to focus on Hardin’s steady gaze on me. “Okay, sure. But I’m bringing gifts, so what should it be?”

Landon sighs good-naturedly. “Stubborn as always. Well, my mum likes her kitchen, and Ken would go for a paperweight . . . or something.”

“A paperweight?” I snort. “That’s a dreadful gift.”

He laughs. “Well, don’t get him a tie, because I did.” Then he groans. “Well, let me know if you need anything between now and then. I have to go help clean the house,” he says and hangs up.

When I put my phone down, Hardin immediately asks, “You are going there for Christmas?”

“Yeah . . . I don’t want to go to my mother’s,” I say and sit on the bed.

“I don’t blame you.” He rubs his chin with his index finger. “You could stay here?”

I pick at my fingernails on my lap. “You could . . . come with me.”

“And leave my mum here alone?” he scoffs.

“No! Of course not, Karen and your dad want her to come . . . Both of you.”

Hardin looks at me like I’m crazy. “Yeah, right. And why would my mum want to go there with my father and his new wife?”

“I . . . I don’t know, but it could be nice to have everyone together.”

Really, though, I’m not sure how exactly that would go, largely because I don’t know what type of relationship Trish and Ken have now, if they have one at all. It’s also not my place to try to bring everyone together—I’m not part of their family. Heck, I’m not even Hardin’s girlfriend.

“I don’t think so.” He frowns.

Despite everything going on between Hardin and me, it would
have been nice to spend Christmas with him, but I understand. It would have been hard enough to convince Hardin to go to his father’s house for the holiday anyway, let alone with his mother.

Because part of my brain likes a problem to solve, I start thinking that I need to get gifts for Landon and his parents, maybe something for Trish as well. But what? I should go now, really—it’s already five, which only leaves a bit tonight and then tomorrow, Christmas Eve. I have no idea whether or not I should get something for Hardin; actually, I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t. It would be awkward to give him a present when we’re in this strange in-between place.

“What is it?” Hardin asks of my silence.

I groan. “I have to go to the mall. This is what I get for being homeless on Christmas,” I tell him.

“I don’t think bad planning has anything to do with you being homeless,” he teases. His smile is small but his eyes are bright . . .

Is he flirting with me? I laugh at the thought and roll my eyes. “Bad planning is not something that I do, ever.”

“Sure . . .” he mocks, and I swat my hand at him.

He grabs my wrist and wraps his fingers around it to stop my playful assault. A familiar warmth floods through my body, and I lock eyes with him. He lets go quickly and we both look away. The air fills with tension, and I stand up to put my shoes back on.

“You’re going now?” he asks.

“Yeah . . . the mall closes at nine,” I remind him.

“You’re going alone?” He shuffles his feet awkwardly.

“Would you like to come?” I know this probably isn’t the best idea, but if I want to at least try to move forward, then going to the mall together is fine. Right?

“Come shopping with you?”

“Yeah . . . if you don’t want to, that’s fine, too,” I say awkwardly.

“No, of course I do. I just . . . wasn’t expecting you to ask.”

I nod, then grab my phone and purse. Hardin close on my heels, I go out into the living room.

“We’re going to the mall for a while,” Hardin tells his mom.

“Both of you?” she asks knowingly, and he rolls his eyes. As we hit the door, she yells over her shoulder, “Tessa, dear, if you want to leave him there, I won’t complain.”

I chuckle. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I say and follow him out.

WHEN HARDIN’S CAR STARTS,
a very familiar piano melody fills the air. He hurries to turn the volume down, but it’s too late. I give him a smug look.

“They grew on me, okay?” he says.

“Sure,” I tease and turn the song back up.

If only things could go this way forever. If only this flirty getting along, this nervous middle ground that we are in, could last forever. But it won’t. It can’t. We have to actually discuss what has happened, and what will happen from here on out. I know we have so much to talk about, but we aren’t going to solve this problem all at once, even if I force the issue. I want to find the right time, and take it slow until then.

Most of the drive is spent in silence, the music saying all of the things I wish we could say to each other. When we near the Macy’s entrance, Hardin says, “I’ll drop you off by the door,” and I nod. I stand under the vent to warm up while he parks and hurries through the cold to me.

After nearly an hour of looking at baking dishes of all shapes and sizes, I decide to get Karen a set of cake pans. I know she probably has more than enough, but cooking and gardening seem
to be her only hobbies, and I don’t have time to think of anything better.

“Can we take this to the car and then finish shopping?” I ask Hardin and struggle to keep the large box in my hands.

“Here, I’ll take it. Stay here,” he says and takes the box from me.

As soon as he walks away, I walk over to the men’s section, where hundreds of ties in large cases mockingly remind me of Landon’s claim about them as an easy gift. I keep browsing, but I’ve never bought a “dad gift” before, so I have no idea what to get.

“It’s so fucking cold out,” Hardin says when he returns, shivering and rubbing his hands together.

“Well, maybe wearing a T-shirt in the snow isn’t a good idea.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m hungry, are you?”

We make our way to the food court, where Hardin finds me a seat while he gets us some pizza from the only decent chain there. Minutes later, he joins me at the table with two plates piled full. I grab a slice and a napkin and take a small bite.

“How elegant of you,” he teases when I wipe my mouth after I chew.

“Shut up,” I say and take another.

“This is . . . nice. Isn’t it?” he asks.

“What? The pizza?” I innocently ask back, even though I know he isn’t talking about the food.

“Us. Hanging out. It’s been a long time.”

It does seem like so long . . .
“It hasn’t even been two weeks,” I remind him.

“That’s a long time . . . for us.”

“Yeah . . .” I take a bigger bite so I can keep silent a little longer.

“How long have you been thinking about moving forward?” he asks.

I slowly finish chewing and take a long drink of my water. “A
few days, I guess.” I want to keep this conversation as light as I can in order to avoid causing a scene, but I do add, “There’s still so much to talk about.”

“I know there is, but I’m so . . .” His green eyes go wide as he focuses on something behind me. When I turn around, my stomach drops at the sight of red hair. Steph. And next to her, her boyfriend, Tristan.

“I want to go,” I tell him and stand up, leaving the tray of food on the table.

“Tessa, you haven’t gotten any other gifts. Besides, I don’t think they even saw us.”

When I turn back around, Steph’s eyes meets mine, and the surprise on her face is evident. I can’t tell if she’s more surprised to see me, or that I’m with Hardin. Probably both.

“Yeah, she did.”

The pair walk over to us, and I feel like my feet are bolted to the floor.

“Hey,” Tristan says uncomfortably when they reach us.

“Hey,” Hardin says and rubs the back of his neck.

I don’t say anything. I look at Steph, then grab my purse from the table and begin to walk away.

“Tessa, wait!” she calls after me. The thick heels of her shoes smack against the hard tile as she hurries to catch up with me. “Can we talk?”

“Talk about
what
, Steph?” I snap. “How my first and basically only friend here let me be humiliated in front of everyone?”

Hardin and Tristan look at each other, obviously unsure whether to intervene.

Steph throws out her hands. “I’m sorry, okay! I know I should have told you—I thought he would tell you!”

“So that’s supposed to make it okay, then?”

“No, I know it won’t, but I’m really sorry, Tessa. I know I should have told you.”

“But you didn’t.” I cross my arms.

“I miss you, I miss hanging out with you,” she says.

“I’m sure you do miss having me as the focus of all of your jokes.”

“It wasn’t like that, Tessa. You are . . . were my friend. I know I fucked up, but I really am sorry.”

Her apology catches me off guard. But I recover and say, “Well, I can’t forgive you.”

She frowns. And then her expression turns angry. “But you can forgive
him
? He’s the one who started it all—and you forgave
him
. How fucked up is that?”

I want to snap at her, cuss her out even, but I know she’s right. “I haven’t forgiven him, I’m just . . . I don’t know what I’m doing,” I whine and put my hands over my face.

Steph sighs. “Tessa, I don’t expect you to just let it go like that, but at least give me a chance. We could hang out, just the four of us. The group is all fucked up, anyway.”

I look up at her. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Jace has been an even bigger dick since Hardin beat the shit out of him. So Tristan and I have been keeping our distance from everyone.”

I look over to where Hardin and Tristan are watching us and then look back at Steph. “Hardin beat up Jace?”

“Yeah . . . last Saturday.” She scrunches her brows. “He didn’t say anything?”

“No . . .” I want to hear as much as I can before Hardin walks over and stops her from spilling, but she’s eager to be on my good side, so she starts without my even having to ask.

“Yeah, well, it’s because Molly told Hardin that Jace planned the whole . . . you know,” she adds quietly, “telling you in front of everyone . . .” But then she laughs a little. “Honestly, he had it coming, and the look on Molly’s face when Hardin basically
pushed her off of him was priceless. I mean, seriously, I should have taken a picture!”

I’m pondering the fact that Hardin turned down Molly and beat up Jace that Saturday before he came to Seattle, when I hear Tristan say, “Ladies,” almost as if in warning that Hardin’s near.

Hardin joins me and takes my hand, and as Tristan starts to pull Steph away, she stays facing me for a moment and says with wide eyes, “Tessa, just think about it, okay? I miss you.”

Y
ou okay?” Hardin asks when they disappear.

“Yeah . . . I’m fine,” I tell him.

“What did she say?”

“Nothing . . . just that she wants me to forgive her.” I shrug, and we head off down the main throughway. I need to process everything that Steph just told me before I bring it up to Hardin. He must have been at one of their parties before he came to Seattle, and Molly must have been there. I can’t deny it’s a massive relief to hear Steph’s take on things. It’s almost funny that he had told me he slept with Molly that same night he was actually rejecting her. Almost. The relief and irony are quickly overshadowed by my guilt over kissing that stranger at the club while Hardin was pushing away Molly.