After (The After Series)

Are we friends? Of course not, I’m just a convenient excuse for why he isn’t
returning to the party. I stand awkwardly and shift my weight from one leg to the
other.
“No, you can’t go into my room. You know this. I’m going back to sleep now,
so don’t wake me up again. And my door is locked, so don’t waste your time
trying.” He hangs up, and I instinctively back away. His bad mood is palpable,
and I don’t want to be on the receiving end of his venom. I crawl onto Steph’s
bed and pull the blanket to me.
“Sorry that my phone woke you,” he says quietly. “It was Molly.”
“Oh.” I sigh and lie down on my side, facing my bed across the room. Hardin
gives me a small smile, as if he knows what I’m thinking about Molly. I can’t
ignore the small bubble of excitement that comes from him being here instead of
with Molly, even though his actions make no sense to me.
“You don’t like her, do you?” He rolls fully onto his side, his hair messy and
everywhere on my pillow.
I shake my head. “Not really, but please don’t tell her. I don’t want any
drama,” I beg. I know I can’t trust him, but hopefully he will forget to stir up
controversy with this information.
“I won’t. I don’t care for her, either,” he murmurs.
“Yeah, you really seem to dislike her,” I say just as sarcastically as I can
manage.
“I don’t. I mean, she is fun and all, but she is quite annoying,” he admits,
making that bubble grow a little more.
“Well, maybe you should stop messing around with her,” I suggest and roll
onto my back so he can’t see my face.
“Is there a reason I shouldn’t mess around with her?”
“No. I mean, if you think she is annoying, then why keep doing it?” I know I
don’t want the answer to this, but can’t help it.
“To keep me occupied, I guess.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Talking about Hardin messing around
with Molly hurts me worse than it should.
His smooth voice interrupts my jealous thoughts. “Come lie with me.”
“No.”
“Come on, just lie with me. I sleep better when you’re near me,” he says like
it’s a confession.
I sit up and look at him. “What?” I can’t hide my surprise at his words.
Whether he means them or not, they make my insides melt.
“I sleep better when you’re with me.” He breaks eye contact and looks down.

---

“Last weekend I slept better than I have in a while.”
“It was probably the scotch, not me.” I try to make light of his confession. I
don’t know what else to do or say.
“No, it was you.”
“Good night, Hardin.” I turn over. If he keeps saying these things and I keep
listening, I will be putty in his hands yet again.
“Why don’t you believe me?” he almost whispers.
“Because you always do this: you say a few nice things and then you flip the
switch and I end up crying.”
“I make you cry?”
How doesn’t he know that? He has seen me cry more than anyone else I know.
“Yeah, often,” I say, gripping Steph’s blanket tight.
I hear his bed squeak lightly and I close my eyes, out of fear, out of something
else, too. Hardin’s fingers graze my arm as he sits on the edge of Steph’s bed,
and I tell myself it’s too late—well, early—for this at 4 a.m.
“I don’t mean to make you cry.”
I open my eyes and look up at him. “Yes. Yes, you do. That’s your exact
intention every time you say hurtful things to me. And when you forced me to
tell Noah about us. And when you humiliated me in your bed last week because I
couldn’t say exactly what you wanted me to. Tonight you tell me you sleep
better when I am around, but if I was to lie with you, the second we woke up you
would just tell me I am ugly, or that you can’t stand me. After we went to the
stream, I thought that . . . never mind. There are only so many times I can have
this talk with you.” I take in a couple of deep breaths, panicked at my unloading
on him.
“I’m listening this time.” His eyes are unreadable, but they make me want to
continue.
“I just don’t know why you love this cat-and-mouse game you play with me
so much. You’re nice, then mean. You tell Steph you’ll ‘ruin’ me if I come
around you, then you want to drive me home. You are just all over the place.”
“I didn’t mean that. That I would ruin you, I just . . . I don’t know. I just say
things sometimes,” he says, running his hands through his hair.
“Why did you drop Literature?” I finally ask.
“Because you want me to stay away from you, and I need to stay away from
you.”
“So why don’t you, then?” I am slightly aware of the shift in energy around
us. Somehow we have moved closer, our bodies only inches apart.
“I don’t know,” he huffs. He rubs his hands together, then rests them on his
knees.

---

I want to say something—anything—but I can’t without telling Hardin that I
don’t want him to stay away, that I think about him every second of every day.
Finally, he breaks the silence. “Can I ask you something and you will be
completely honest?”
I nod.
“Did you . . . did you miss me this week?”
That was the last thing I expected him to ask me. I blink a few times to clear
my frantic mind. I told him I would answer truthfully, but I’m afraid to.
“Well?”
“Yeah,” I mumble and hide my face in my hands, only to have him pull them
away, his touch on my wrists setting fire to my skin.
“Yeah, what?” His voice is strained, like he is desperate for my answer.
“I missed you,” I gulp, expecting the worst.
What I did not expect is his sigh of relief, and the smile that stretches across
his beautiful face. I want to ask him if he missed me, but he begins to speak
before I get the chance.
“Really?” he asks, almost like he doesn’t believe me.
I nod in reply and he gives me a shy smile. Hardin shy? More likely he’s
pleased by my admittance because it tells him he has me wrapped around his
finger.
“Now can I go back to sleep?” I whine. I know he isn’t going to reciprocate
my confession with one of his own, and it is really late.
“Only if you sleep with me. As in, in the same bed, of course.” He smiles.
I sigh and mumble, “Oh, Hardin, can we just go to sleep?” as I roll over,
careful not to touch him. But a sudden yank on my legs makes me yelp in
surprise, and I quickly find Hardin lifting me off the bed and throwing me over
his shoulder. He ignores my kicking and pleas to put me down until he reaches
my bed, rests one knee on it, and lays me down gently on the side against the
wall before lying down next to me. I glare at him silently, afraid that if I fight
him too hard he’ll leave, which I know I don’t want.
He reaches down and picks up the pillow that I tossed at him earlier and
places it between us as a barrier with a smirk on his face. “There, now you can
sleep, safe and secure.”
I smile back at him. I can’t help it. “Good night,” I half-giggle.
“Night, Tessa.” He laughs back and I roll over on my side.
But suddenly I’m not anywhere near tired, so I just stare at the wall, hoping
this electricity will dissipate and I can sleep. Well, half-hoping.
A few minutes later I feel the pillow move and then Hardin’s arm wraps
around my waist and he pulls me to his chest. I don’t move it or call attention to

---

his actions. I am enjoying the feeling too much.
“I missed you, too,” he whispers against my hair. I smile knowing that he
can’t see me. I feel the light pressure of his lips against the back of my head and
my stomach flips. As much as I love it, I am left more confused than ever as I
drift off to sleep.

---

chapter forty-three
M
y alarm goes off too early and I roll over. I lift my hand, smacking at it to stop
the hideous beeping assaulting my ears. My hand smacks against a soft, warm
surface, and I blink my eyes open to find Hardin staring down at me. I reach for
my pillow to cover my embarrassment but Hardin yanks it away.
“Good morning to you, too,” he says with a smile, rubbing at his arm.
I stare back, working an apology in my mind. How long has be been watching
me?
“You’re cute when you’re asleep,” he teases and I sit up as quick as I can, sure
I look fairly hideous, like usual in the morning.
He hands me my phone. “What’s the alarm for?”
I switch it off and climb off the bed. “I’m going to look for a car today, so you
can leave whenever,” I tell him and he frowns.
“You’re obviously not a morning person.”
I pull my hair back into a tail, in an effort to keep it from looking like a bird’s
nest. “I am . . . I just don’t want to keep you.” I feel a little guilty for being rude,
but I had expected him to be rude himself, to be honest.
“You’re not. Can I come with you?”
I search around my room, wondering if I heard him correctly. Finally I turn to
him with suspicion in my eyes. “To look at a car? Why would you want to do
that?”
“Why do I have to have a reason? You act like I’m plotting to kill you or
something.” He laughs and stands up, ruffling his hair.

---

“Well, I’m just a little taken aback by your cheerful mood this morning . . .
and you wanting to go somewhere with me . . . and you not insulting me,” I
admit.
I turn away from him and gather my clothes and bathroom kit. I need to take a
shower before I go anywhere.
Unfazed by my honesty, Hardin presses some more. “It’ll be fun, I promise.
Just let me show you that we could . . . that I could be nice. It’s just one day.”
His smile is beautiful and convincing. But Noah will surely break up with me
and never speak to me again if he knows that Hardin stayed the night with me, in
my bed, holding me as we slept. I don’t know what it is that keeps me constantly
afraid of losing Noah; maybe it’s my fear of my mother’s reaction if we broke
up, or maybe that my old self is so tied to Noah. He has always been there for
me, and I feel like I owe it to myself and him to continue our relationship. But I
think the biggest reason is that I know Hardin can’t and won’t give me the type
of relationship I need and honestly want from him.
While I am lost in my thoughts it finally seems okay for me to admit that
listening to Hardin’s steady breathing in my ear while he slept was worth never
speaking to Noah again.
“Earth to Tessa!” Hardin calls from across the room and I snap to. I have been
frozen standing here debating with myself and completely forgot Hardin was
even in my room.
“Is something wrong?” he asks and steps toward me.