After (The After Series)

What have I done to him? Nothing, surely. He just isn’t used to being nice, but
for some reason he’s being nice to me. Maybe it’s a way to beat me at some
game, or prove a point that he can fake manners? I am not sure and it hurts my
head to try to figure it out.
I bring up Tristan, and Steph takes the conversation from there. I try to pay
attention to her stories from last night’s party: how Molly ended up shirtless (go
figure) and Logan beat Nate in a drunken arm-wrestling match (she swears it
was one of those things that are much funnier when you’re there). My thoughts
drift back to Hardin, of course, and I check the clock to make sure I have enough
time to get ready for tonight. It is four o’clock now, so I should start getting
ready at five.
Steph talks until five thirty and is ecstatic when I ask her to do my hair and
makeup. I am not sure why I am putting such effort into looking okay for a
family dinner that I really shouldn’t be going to, but I do anyway. She applies the
makeup lightly so you can barely tell it’s there, but it looks great. Natural but
pretty. Then she curls my hair the way she did before. I decide to wear my

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favorite maroon dress, despite Steph’s attempts to have me wear something from
her closet. My maroon dress is nice and conservative, perfect for a family dinner.
“At least wear the lace tights underneath, or let me cut the sleeves off it,” she
says with a groan.
“Fine, give me the lace tights, I guess. This isn’t that bad, though—it’s
formfitting,” I rebut.
“I know, it’s just . . . boring.” She crinkles her nose. She looks more pleased
when I put on the tights and agree to high heels. I still have a pair of Toms
tucked in my purse from yesterday, just in case.
As six thirty approaches, I realize I am more nervous about the ride to dinner
than the actual dinner. I fidget with the tights and practice walking around the
room a few times before Hardin finally knocks on the door. Steph gives me a
strange smile and I pull the door open.
“Wow, Tessa, you . . . um . . . look nice,” he mumbles and I smile. Since when
does he say “um” in every sentence?
Steph escorts us out the door, winks, and exclaims like a proud parent, “You
two have fun!”
Hardin flips her off, and she returns the vulgar gesture as he closes the door in
her face.

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chapter forty-six
T
he drive to Hardin’s father’s house is nice. The low music in the background
of his car feels like a distraction, and I notice the way his hands are gripping the
steering wheel a little too hard. He seems on edge during the drive, but I know if
he wants to talk about something, he would have no problem calling it out.
I climb out of the car and walk up the steps from the sidewalk. With the sun
still in the sky, I can see some old vines creeping up the sides of the house and
the small white flowers that join them. Unexpectedly, I hear Hardin’s door open
and close, and then his boots on the sidewalk. I turn around to see him a few
steps behind me.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.
“Coming with you, obviously.” He rolls his eyes and takes one long stride to
join me at the top of the steps.
“Really? It seemed like you weren’t—”
“Yeah. Now let’s go inside and have the worst night of our lives.”
His face twists into the fakest smile I have ever seen. I elbow him and ring the
doorbell. “I don’t ring doorbells,” he tells me and turns the knob. I suppose it’s
okay because it’s his father’s house, but I still feel a little uncomfortable.
We walk inside and through the foyer before his father appears. The surprise
is evident on his face, but he smiles his charming smile and goes to hug his son.
Hardin, however, dodges his gesture and walks right past him. The
embarrassment flashes on Mr. Scott’s handsome features, but I look away before
he realizes that I saw his subtle gesture.

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“Thank you so much for having us, Mr. Scott,” I say as we pass through the
doorway.
“Thank you so much for coming, Tessa. Landon has told me some about you.
He seems very fond of you. And please, call me Ken.” He smiles and I follow
him into the living room.
Landon is sitting on the couch with his Literature book on his lap as I enter.
His face lights up and he closes the book as I walk over and sit down next to
him. I’m not sure where Hardin went to, but he’ll appear sooner or later.
“So you and Hardin are giving your friendship another try?” Landon asks with
a slight frown. I want to explain what is going on between Hardin and me, but I
honestly have no idea myself.
“It’s complicated.” I try to smile but I feel it falter.
“You’re still with Noah, right? Because Ken seems to think you and Hardin
are dating.” He laughs. I hope my laugh doesn’t sound as fake as it feels. “I
didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise, but I am sure Hardin will,” he says.
I shift uncomfortably, unsure what to say. “Yeah, I’m still with Noah, it’s just
—”
“You must be Tessa!” A woman’s voice rings through the room. Landon’s
mom walks toward me and I stand up to shake her hand. Her eyes are bright and
her smile is lovely. She is wearing a turquoise dress, similar to my maroon dress,
with an apron printed with small strawberries and bananas over the top of it.
“It’s so nice to meet you; thank you for having me. Your home is beautiful,” I
tell her. Her smile covers her face and she squeezes my hand.
“You are so welcome, dear, it’s my pleasure,” she says, beaming. A timer goes
off from the kitchen and she jumps a little. “Well, I’m going to finish up in the
kitchen, but I’ll see you all in the dining room in a few minutes.”
“What are you working on?” I ask Landon and he pulls out a folder.
“Next week’s assignments. That essay on Tolstoy is going to kill me.”
I laugh and nod; that essay took me hours to write. “Yeah, it was a killer. I just
finished it a few days ago.”
“Well, if you two nerds are done comparing notes, I would love to eat dinner
sometime in the next year,” Hardin says. I glare at him, but Landon just laughs
and puts his book down before walking to the dining room. It seems their fight
was good for them after all.
I follow them both to the large dining room. There, a long table is decorated
beautifully with full place settings and multiple platters of food in the center.
Karen really went all out for this; Hardin had better behave or I will kill him.
“Tessa, you and Hardin will sit on this side,” Karen instructs us and gestures
to the left of the table. Landon sits across from Hardin. Ken and Karen take their

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seats on the other side of Landon.
I thank her and sit down next to Hardin, who is quiet and seems
uncomfortable. I watch as Karen makes Ken’s plate for him and he thanks her
with a brief kiss on her cheek. It is such a sweet gesture, I have to look away. I
fill my plate with roast beef, potatoes, and squash, then pile a roll on top of it.
Hardin chuckles quietly at the mound of food.
“What? I’m hungry,” I whisper.
“Nothing. Hungry girls are the best.” He laughs again and piles his plate even
higher than mine.
“So, Tessa, how are you liking Washington Central so far?” Ken asks.
I chew my food quickly so I can answer. “I really enjoy it. It’s only my first
semester, though, so ask me again in a few months,” I joke and everyone laughs,
except Hardin.
“Well, that’s great. Are you in any clubs on campus?” Karen asks and wipes
her mouth with her napkin.
“Not yet, I plan on joining the Literary Club next semester.”
“Really? Hardin used to be a member,” Ken adds and I look at Hardin. His
eyes are narrowed and he looks annoyed.
“So how do you like living near WCU?” I ask to divert attention from Hardin.
His eyes soften and I imagine that’s his way of thanking me.
“We enjoy it. When Ken first became chancellor, we lived in a much smaller
place until we found this house and we fell in love with it immediately.”
My fork drops against the glass plate. “Chancellor? Of WCU?” I gasp.
“Yes. Hardin never mentioned it?” Ken asks, looking over at his son.
“No . . . I didn’t.”
Karen and Landon follow Ken’s eyes to Hardin and he shifts nervously.
For his part, Hardin looks back at his father with a glaring hatred. He launches
to his feet, shouting, “No! Okay, no, I didn’t tell her—I don’t know why it
fucking matters. I don’t need to use your name or position!” As he storms away
from the table, Karen looks like she might cry, and Ken’s face is red.
“I am so sorry, I didn’t know he . . .” I start.
“No, don’t apologize for his poor behavior,” Ken tells me.
I hear the back door slam. “Excuse me,” I say, and stand up from the table to
go find Hardin.

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chapter forty-seven
I
rush out the back door and see Hardin pacing back and forth on the deck. I’m
not sure what I can do to help the situation, but I know I would rather be out here
with Hardin than face his family in the dining room after that outburst. I feel
responsible for this whole thing anyway, since I agreed to come here when
Hardin didn’t want to. If he started suddenly hanging out with my mother, I
know I would feel weird about it.