After We Collided (The After Series) (33 page)

“Okay . . .” I say, unsure of where we’ll go. I make myself another bowl. “Are you going to ask your father if we can stop by today?” I ask him and take seat next to him.

“I don’t know . . .”

“Maybe they could come here?” I suggest.

Hardin’s eyes narrow. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not? You’d be more comfortable here, right?”

He closes his eyes for a moment before opening them again. “I guess. Let me call them in a bit.”

I finish my breakfast quickly and stand up from the table.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“To clean, obviously.”

“Clean what? The place is spotless.”

“No, it’s not, and I want it to be perfect if we’re having guests over.” I rinse my bowl and place it in the dishwasher. “You could help clean, you know? Since you’re the one who makes most of the mess,” I point out.

“Oh no. You’re much better at cleaning than I am.” He gestures at the cereal box.

I roll my eyes but give it to him. I don’t mind cleaning, because, honestly, I like things a certain way, and Hardin’s version of cleaning isn’t actually cleaning. He just shoves things wherever they’ll fit.

“Oh, and don’t forget that we need to go to the store to get your plugs.” He laughs.

“Stop calling them that!” I throw a dish towel at his face, and he laughs harder at my embarrassment.

A
fter the apartment is clean to my standards, I go to the store to get tampons and a few things in case Ken, Karen, and Landon come over. Hardin tried to accompany me, but I knew he’d be teasing me about the tampons the entire time, so I made him stay home.

When I return, he’s sitting in the same spot on the couch. “Have you called your father yet?” I ask from the kitchen.

“No . . . I was waiting for you,” he replies, then wanders into the kitchen and sits down at the table with a sigh. “I’ll call now.”

I nod and sit across from him while he presses his phone to his ear.

“Uh . . . hey.” Hardin says into the receiver. Then he sets the phone to speaker and places it on the table between us.

“Hardin?” Ken’s voice is surprised.

“Yeah . . . um, look, I was wondering if you wanted to come over or something.”

“Come over?”

Hardin looks up at me, and I can tell that his patience is already wearing thin. My hand moves across the table to rest atop his, and I nod in encouragement.

“Yeah . . . you, Karen, and Landon. We can exchange gifts, since we didn’t yesterday. Mum’s gone,” he says.

“You’re sure that’s okay?” Ken asks his son.

“I just asked, didn’t I?” Hardin says, and I squeeze his hand. “I mean . . . yeah, that’s fine,” he corrects, and I smile at him.

“Okay, well, let me talk to Karen, but I know she’ll be thrilled. What time will be good for you?” Hardin looks at me. I mouth
two
, and he tells his father.

“Okay . . . well, we’ll see you at two.”

“Tessa will text Landon the address,” Hardin says and hangs up the phone.

“That wasn’t so bad, right?” I ask.

He rolls his eyes. “Sure.”

“What should I wear?”

He gestures to my jeans and WCU T-shirt. “That.”

“Definitely not. This is our Christmas.”

“No, it’s the day after Christmas, so you should wear jeans.” He smiles, and his fingers tug at his lip ring.

“I’m not wearing jeans.” I laugh and head to the bedroom to decide what to wear.

I’M HOLDING MY WHITE DRESS
to my chest in front of the mirror when Hardin walks into the bedroom. “I don’t know if wearing white is the best idea.” He smiles.

“For God’s sake, stop it!” I say.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”

I grab my maroon dress from the closet. This dress holds a lot of memories for me; I wore it to my first frat party with Steph. I miss Steph despite all the anger I feel . . . felt toward her. I feel betrayed by her, but at the same time in a lot of ways she was right when she said it wasn’t fair for me to forgive Hardin but not her.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” Hardin questions.

“Nothing . . . I was just thinking of Steph.”

“What about her?”

“I don’t know . . . I miss her, sort of. Do you miss your friends?” I ask. He hasn’t mentioned any of them since the letter.

“No.” He shrugs. “I would rather spend my time with you.”

I’m enjoying this honest Hardin, but I note, “You could still spend time with them, too.”

“I guess. I don’t know; I don’t really care either way. Do you even want to be around them . . . you know, after everything?” His eyes focus on the floor.

“I don’t know . . . but I’d be willing to try, at least, and see how it goes. Not Molly, though.” I scowl.

He looks up mischievously. “But the two of you are such great friends.”

“Ugh, enough about her. What do you think they’ll do on New Year’s Eve?” I ask. I don’t know how it will be to be around everyone, but I miss having friends, or what passed for friends.

“There’ll probably be a party. Logan is obsessed with New Year’s . . . Are you sure you want to go out with them?”

I smile. “Yeah . . . if it blows up in my face, then we’ll stay in next year.”

Hardin’s eyes widen when I mention next year, but I pretend I don’t notice. I need our Christmas do-over to be peaceful today. I’m focusing on today.

“I need to make something for everyone to eat. I should have said three; it’s already noon, and I’m not even ready.” I rub my hands over my makeup-free face.

“Go ahead and get ready, I’ll make something . . .” Hardin says, then smirks. “Just make sure you eat
only
what I put on your plate.”

“Joking about poisoning your father, lovely,” I tease. He shrugs and wanders off. I wash my face and apply light makeup before pulling my hair out of its ponytail and curling the ends. By the time I finish getting ready and get myself dressed, a wonderful garlic smell is coming from the kitchen.

When I join Hardin in the kitchen, I see he’s laid out a couple of trays of fruit and vegetables and already set the table. I’m
really impressed by what he’s done, though I do have to fight the urge to rearrange a few things. I’m so glad that Hardin was willing to invite his father over to our apartment, and even more relieved that he seems to be in a really good mood today. Checking the clock, I see our company will be here in thirty minutes, so I begin cleaning up the small mess Hardin made while cooking and get the apartment spotless again.

I wrap my arms around his waist as he stands in front of the oven. “Thank you for doing all of this.”

He shrugs. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you okay?” I ask and unwrap my arms and turn him to face me.

“Yeah . . . I’m fine.”

“Are you sure you aren’t a little nervous?” I ask. I can tell he is.

“No . . . well, just a little. It’s just weird as fuck to have him coming here, you know?”

“I know. I’m really proud of you for inviting him.” I press my cheek against his chest, and his hands move to my waist.

“You are?”

“Of course I am, ba—Hardin.”

“What was that . . . what were you going to say?”

I hide my face. “Nothing.” I don’t know where this sudden urge to call him pet names comes from, but it’s embarrassing.

“Tell me,” he coos and lifts my chin to force me out of hiding.

“I don’t know why, but I almost called you ‘babe’ again.” I bring my bottom lip between my teeth, and his smile grows.

“Go ahead, call me it,” he says.

“You’ll make fun of me.” I smile weakly.

“No, I won’t. I call you ‘baby’ all the time.”

“Yeah . . . but it’s different when you do it.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know . . . it’s, like, sexier or something when you do . . . more romantic. I don’t know.” I flush.

“You’re awfully shy today.” He smiles and plants a kiss on my forehead. “I like it, though. So go ahead and call me it.”

I hug him tighter. “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Okay . . .
babe
.” The word tastes strange rolling off of my tongue.

“Again.”

I let out a surprised squeak as he lifts me onto the cold countertop and stands between my legs. “Okay, babe!” I repeat.

His cheeks are a deeper shade of pink than usual. “I really love that. It’s . . . what did you say? Sexy and romantic?” He smiles.

A sudden bravery makes me speak again. “Is it, babe?” I smile and bite my lip again.

“Yes . . . incredibly sexy.” He presses his lips against my neck, and I shiver as his hands trail up my thighs.

“Don’t think these will keep me out.” His fingers draw circles on my black tights.

“They may not, but the . . . you know will.”

A knock at the door makes me jump, and Hardin smiles and winks at me. As he walks to the door, he says over his shoulder, “Oh, baby . . . that won’t
either
.”

W
hen I open the door, my attention is immediately drawn to my dad’s face. A deep purple bruise is clear on his cheek, and his bottom lip holds a small cut right down the center.

I nod as my greeting to them, not knowing what the hell to say.

“Your place is so lovely.” Karen smiles, and the three of them stand by the door, unsure what to do.

Tessa saves all of us by walking into the room. “Come on in. You can put those by the tree,” she says to Landon, gesturing to the bag of gifts in his arms.

“We brought the gifts you left at the house as well,” my dad says.

The air is thick with tension—not an angry tension, exactly, but really damn awkward tension.

Tess smiles sweetly. “Thank you so much.” She’s so good at making people feel welcome. At least one of us is.

Landon walks to the kitchen first, followed by Karen and Ken. I reach for Tessa’s hand, using her as an anchor for my anxiety.

“How was the drive?” Tessa tries to start conversation.

“It wasn’t too bad; I drove,” Landon answers.

The conversation flows from uncomfortable at first to somewhat relaxed as we eat. In between courses, Tessa squeezes my hand under the table.

“The food was excellent,” Karen compliments, looking at Tessa.

“Oh, I didn’t make it, Hardin did,” Tessa tells her and places her hand on my thigh.

“Really? It was delicious, Hardin.” Karen smiles.

I’d have been okay with Tessa taking the credit for the meal. Having four sets of eyes on me is making me want to vomit. Tessa applies more pressure to my leg, wanting me to say something.

I look at Karen. “Thanks,” I say, and Tessa squeezes again, prompting me to offer Karen a really fucking awkward smile.

After a few seconds of silence, Tessa stands up and grabs her plate from the table. She walks into the kitchen, and I debate whether or not to follow.

“The food was really good, son. I’m impressed,” my dad says, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, it’s just food,” I mumble. His eyes shift down, and I correct myself. “I mean, Tessa’s the better cook, but thanks.”

He seems pleased with my answer and takes a drink from his glass. Karen smiles awkwardly, staring at me with those weirdly almost comforting eyes of hers. I look away. Tessa joins us before anyone else has the chance to compliment the food.

“Well, should we open the gifts?” Landon asks.

“Yes,” Karen and Tessa answer at the same time.

I stay as close to Tessa as possible as we go into the living room. My dad, Karen, and Landon sit on the couch. I reach for Tessa’s hand and gently pull her to sit on my lap in the chair. I see her look toward our guests, and Karen tries to hide a smile. Tessa looks away, embarrassed, but doesn’t move from my lap. I lean up a little more and wrap my arm tighter around her waist.

Landon stands and grabs the gifts. He passes them around, and I focus on Tessa and the way she gets excited over things like this. I love the way she’s always so enthusiastic about everything, and I love the way she makes people comfortable. Even on “do-over Christmas.”

Landon hands her a small box marked
From: Ken and
Karen
. When she tears the wrapping paper off, a blue box with
Tiffany & Co.
written in silver scroll on the front is revealed.

“What is it?” I ask quietly. I don’t know shit about jewelry, but I know that brand is expensive.

“A bracelet.” She extracts and dangles a silver chain-link bracelet in front of me. A small bow-shaped charm and a heart hang from the expensive metal. The shiny object makes the bracelet on her wrist, my gift to her, look like complete shit.

“Of course it is,” I say under my breath.

Tessa frowns at me, then turns back to them. “It’s beautiful; thank you both so much.” She beams.

“She already . . .” I begin to complain. I hate that they got her a better gift than mine. I get it—he has money. Couldn’t they have gotten her something else, anything else?

But Tessa turns back to me, silently begging me not to make shit any more awkward. I sigh in defeat and lean back against the chair.

“What’s in yours?” Tessa smiles, trying to lighten my mood. She rests against me, kissing my forehead. She looks down at the box on the arm of the chair, hinting for me to open it. When I do, I hold the expensive contents up for her to see.

“A watch.” I show her, trying to humor her the best I can.

Honestly, I’m still fucking irritated about the bracelet. I wanted her to wear
my
bracelet every day—I wanted it to be her favorite gift.

K
aren beams over the box of pans from Tessa. “I’ve been wanting this set all season!”

Tessa thought I didn’t notice that she added my name to the small snowman-shaped tags, but I did. I just didn’t feel like crossing it out.

“I feel like a jerk because I only got you a gift card when you got me these awesome tickets,” Landon says to Tessa.

I have to admit that I’m happy for his impersonal present of a gift card for the e-reader that I got her for her birthday. If he had gotten something more thoughtful, it would have annoyed me, but with Tessa’s caring smile, you’d think he bought her a fucking first-edition Austen novel. I still can’t believe they got her an expensive bracelet; what show-offs. What if she wants to wear this new one instead of mine?