After (The After Series)

“The Vow,” I answer and look at him. I expect him to laugh at me and after a
few seconds he does.
“You would like that sappy movie. That is so unrealistic.”
“It’s based on a true story,” I correct him.
“It still seems stupid.”
“Have you even seen it?” I ask him, and he shakes his head.
“I don’t have to see it to know it’s stupid. I can tell you how it ends right now:
she gets her memory back and they live happily ever after,” he says in a high-
pitched voice.
“No, actually that isn’t how it ends,” I laugh. Hardin makes me insane most of
the time, but it’s the rare occasions like this when he makes me forget how
terrible he can be. I forget that I am supposed to hate him and instead find myself
tossing one of Steph’s pillows at him. He lets it hit him, even though he could
easily block it, and then yelps as if he is actually wounded, so we both laugh
again.
“Let me stay and watch it with you,” he half-asks, half-demands.
“I don’t think that is a good idea,” I tell him and he shrugs.
“The worst ideas are often the best ideas. Besides, you wouldn’t want me to
drive back drunk, would you?” He smiles, and I can’t resist even though I know
I should.
“Fine, but you are sitting on the floor or Steph’s bed.”
He pouts but I hold my ground. God knows what will happen if we are both
on my small bed. I flush at the possibilities and then scold myself for thinking
that way when I just promised Noah I would stay away from Hardin. It sounds
like such a simple promise to make, but somehow I always find my way to
Hardin. Or, like tonight, he finds his way to me.
Hardin slides down to the floor and I take a moment to admire how hot he
looks in a plain white T-shirt. The contrast of his black ink and white shirt is
perfect and I love the way the ivy branches along the bottom of his neck peak
out from under the collar and the black ink can be seen under the material.
I press play and immediately he asks, “Got any popcorn?”
“No, you should have brought your own,” I tease and turn the screen so he can
see it better from the floor.
“I could always go for another type of snack,” he says and I smack his head
lightheartedly.
“Watch the movie, and no more talking, or I’ll kick you out.”
Hardin pretends to zip his lips and hand me a key, which makes me giggle as I
pretend to toss it behind me. As Hardin lays his head back against the bed, I feel
more calm and at peace than I have all week.

---

Hardin watches me more than the movie, but I don’t care. I notice the way he
smiles when I laugh at a funny line, the way he frowns when I sob over Paige
losing her memory, and the way he too sighs with relief when Paige and Leo end
up together again in the end.
“So what did you think?” I ask him as I scroll through to find another movie.
“Utter rubbish.” But he smiles, and I ruffle my hand through his hair before I
realize what I’m doing. I sit myself up and he turns toward the wall.
Way to make it awkward, Tessa.
“Let me choose the next movie,” he says and reaches for my laptop.
“Who said you could stay for another?” I ask and he rolls his eyes.
“Can’t drive. Still drunk,” he says with a mischievous grin.
I know he is lying. He’s mostly sobered up, but he’s right. He should stay. I
will deal with whatever Hardin decides to do to me tomorrow, just to be able to
spend time with him. I really am pathetic, just like he said. And at the moment, I
don’t care.
I want to ask him why he came here and why he isn’t at his own frat party, but
I decide to wait until the movie is over because I know he will turn sour once I
begin to question him. Hardin chooses some Batman film that I haven’t seen and
swears it is the best movie of all time. I laugh at his enthusiasm as he tries to
explain the previous movies in the trilogy, but I have no idea what he is talking
about. Noah and I always watch movies together, but I have never enjoyed it as
much as I do with Hardin. Noah stares at the screen in silence, whereas Hardin
banters along, adding hilarious sarcastic entertainment.
“My ass is numb from your hard floor,” Hardin complains as soon as the
movie begins.
“Steph’s bed is nice and soft,” I say, and he frowns.
“I won’t be able to see the screen from over there. Come on, Tessa, I will keep
my hands to myself.”
“Fine,” I groan and scoot over.
He smiles and lies next to me on his stomach mimicking me, bending his
knees and putting his feet in the air. Hardin lays his head on his folded hands,
which takes away all his rough edges and leaves him looking adorable. The
movie is much better than I expected, and I must’ve been more into it than
Hardin, because when the credits roll and I look over at him, he’s fast asleep.
He looks so perfect, so peaceful in his sleep. I love the way his eyelids flutter
and the way his chest moves up and down and the lovely sigh that leaves his full
lips. I want to reach over and touch his face, but I don’t. Despite the fact that I
should wake him and make him leave, I cover him with my blanket and go lock
the door before lying down on Steph’s bed. I glance over at him again and

---

admire the way the dim light from the television illuminates his face. He looks
younger and much happier in his sleep.
As I drift to sleep, I realize that I’ve spent the night with Hardin a couple of
times now, and never with Noah. My subconscious helpfully reminds me that
I’ve done a lot of things with Hardin that I’ve never done with Noah.

---

chapter forty-two
T
he faint sound of buzzing floats through my dream in a steady pattern. Why
won’t it stop? I roll over, not wanting to wake up, but the obnoxious sound
insists that I do. I’m disoriented, and forget where I am. And then when I realize
I’m in Steph’s bed, I still almost forget Hardin is in my room.
How do we always end up together? And more important, where is that
annoying noise coming from? In the dim light provided by streetlights just
outside the window, I follow the noise and it leads to Hardin’s pocket. I feel as if
the noise is calling to me in my dreamy state. I debate whether or not to reach
into his pocket, my eyes focused on the imprint of the phone in the front pocket
of his tight jeans. It stops as I reach my bed so I steal another opportunity to take
in how peaceful Hardin looks in his sleep. There is no soft crinkle in his
forehead from his constant frowning, and there is no purse to his pink lips. I sigh
and turn around only to have the buzzing start again. I’m just going to grab it, he
won’t wake up. I dip my hand down and struggle to reach into Hardin’s pocket.
If his pants weren’t so tight, I would be able to pull the phone from his
pocket . . . but I have no such luck.
“What are you doing?” he groans.
I jolt a few feet away from my bed. “Your phone is going off and it woke me
up,” I whisper, despite the fact that we are the only people in the room.
I watch silently as he digs into his pocket, his large hand struggling to pull out
his phone. “What?” He snaps into the mouthpiece when he does get it out, only
to swipe his hand over his forehead at whatever response he received.

---

“I am not coming back there tonight. I am at a friend’s house.”