After (The After Series)

He really did only need five minutes, I think to myself and smile.
“See, you’re much more relaxed and ready to take on corporate America,
right?” He beams, obviously proud of himself. I don’t blame him.
“Yes, actually. But you make a terrible American,” I tease and grab my bag.
“I don’t claim to be otherwise,” he says. “Last chance for me to drive you.
Well, since my car isn’t here, I could drive you in your car?”
“No; thank you, though.”
“Good luck; you’ll do great.”
He kisses me again and I thank him and gather my things, leaving him in my
room. This morning has turned out to be great despite my alarm being ten
minutes off. The drive is quick and clear, so when I pull into the parking lot it’s
only eight thirty. I decide to call Hardin to pass the time.
“You okay?” he says on the other end.
“Yeah, I’m already here,” I tell him. I can picture his self-satisfied expression.
“Told you. You could have stayed for ten more minutes and given me a blow
job.”
I giggle. “Always such a pervert, even this early in the morning.”
“Yep, I am nothing but consistent.”
“I won’t argue with that.” We banter back and forth about his lack of virtue

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until it’s time for me to go inside. I make my way to the top floor, where
Christian Vance’s office is located, and give the woman in the front my name.
She gives someone a call and a few moments later gives me a huge smile.
“Mr. Vance would like to come out himself; he will see you in a second.”
The door to the office I was interviewed in opens, and Mr. Vance himself
comes out. “Ms. Young!” he greets me. He is dressed in such a nice suit that I’m
a little intimidated, but thankful that I dressed professionally. He is holding a
thick folder under his arm.
“Hello, Mr. Vance.” I smile and reach out to shake his hand.
“Go ahead and call me Christian. I will show you to your office.”
“Office?” I blurt out.
“Yes, you will need your own space. It’s not much, but it’ll be yours. Let’s go
over your paperwork there.” He smiles and then walks off so quickly that I strain
to keep up in my heels. He makes a left turn into a hallway full of small offices.
“Here we are,” he announces. There is a black tag with my name in bold white
letters next to the door.
I must be dreaming. The office is as big as my dorm room. Mr. Vance and I
have different ideas of “not much.” Inside, there is a medium-sized cherry desk,
two filing cabinets, two chairs, a bookshelf, a computer—and a window! He
takes a seat in front of the desk, so I go and sit behind it. It’s going to take some
getting used to the idea that this is actually my office.
“So, Ms. Young, let’s go over what your duties will include,” he says. “You
will be expected to go over at least two manuscripts a week; if they are excellent
and fit in with what we publish here, then you will send them to me. If they
aren’t worth me looking at, toss them.”
My mouth falls open. This internship is literally a dream come true. I will be
paid and receive college credit to read.
“You will start out at two hundred a week, and if you do well after ninety
days, you will receive a raise.”
Two hundred a week! That should be enough for me to get my own apartment,
albeit a tiny one.
“Thank you so much; this is all so much more than I expected,” I tell him. I
can’t wait to call Hardin and tell him about all of this.
“It’s my pleasure. I have it on good authority that you are a very hard worker.
Maybe you can even tell Hardin how great it is, so he’ll come back and work for
me again,” he says jokingly.
“What?”
“Hardin, he used to work for us before Bolthouse snatched him up. He started
as an intern here last year, did great work, and I quickly hired him. But they

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offered him more money—and let him work from home. Said he didn’t like the
office setting, so he left us. Go figure.” He smiles and adjusts his watch.
I laugh nervously. “I’ll remind him how great this place is.” I had no idea he
had a job. He has never mentioned it to me.
Mr. Vance slides the folder across the desk to me. “Let’s get this paperwork
out of the way.”
After thirty minutes of “sign here” and “initial here,” we are finally finished
and Mr. Vance leaves me to “familiarize” myself with the computer and office.
But as soon as he walks out and closes the door behind him, all I can think to
do is squeal and spin myself around in my chair, at my desk, in my new office!

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chapter seventy-six
W
hen I get back to my car after the best first day possible, I call Hardin, but he
doesn’t answer. I want to tell him about how great my morning has been and ask
him why he didn’t tell me that he has a job or worked at Vance.
By the time I get back to campus it’s only one, since they dismissed me early,
being busy with some high-level meetings or something. I basically have the
whole day to do nothing, so I end up going to the mall and walking around. After
wandering in and out of almost every store there, I go into Nordstrom, figuring I
could use a few more outfits for my internship. The memory of Hardin and me in
the mirror this morning flashes in my mind, and I realize I could also use some
new panties and bras. My undergarments are so plain and I have had them a
while. Hardin doesn’t seem to mind, but I would love to see his face if I took my
shirt off and had a bra that wasn’t plain old black or white. I pick through the
racks and find a few promising sets. My favorite one is carnation pink and made
almost completely from lace. Pulling it off of the rack alone makes me blush, but
I really like it. A saleswoman with curly hair and way too much red lipstick
walks over to try to help me.
“Oh yeah, that’s nice, but what do you think about this one?” she says and
holds up something that resembles a hot pink bundle of strings on a hanger.
“Um . . . not really my style,” I tell her and look at the ground.
“I see you prefer the full underwear?” she asks. Why must we actually discuss
my underwear choices? This could not be more humiliating.
“You should try the boy short style; it’s sexy without being too sexy,” she says

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and holds up the same light pink set I am holding, only the panties are made
differently. Boy shorts. I never cared too much about my panties because no one
has seen them; who knew this would be so humiliating and complicated.
“Okay.” I give in and she pulls a few more off the rack: a white, a black, and a
red set. The red is a little shocking to me, but I have to admit it’s intriguing.
Even the black and white ones look more exotic than my usual choices because
they are made of lace.
Her smile is a wide and scary chasm. “Just try them; they are all the exact
same style.” I nod politely and take them from her, hoping that if I walk away
she won’t follow me. Relieved when she doesn’t, I find a few dresses as well and
a pair of comfortable dress shoes. I have to ask the cashier to repeat my total
three times before I finally pay. Fancy underwear is much more expensive than I
thought. Hardin had better like it.
When I get back to my room, Steph isn’t there and I haven’t heard from
Hardin, so I decide to take a nap. My new clothes are put away and I shut off the
light.
I wake up to an unfamiliar ringtone. I roll over and open my eyes. Sure
enough, Hardin is sitting on the chair with his feet up on Steph’s dresser.
“Have a nice nap?” he asks with a smile.
“Yeah, actually. How did you get in here?” I rub my eyes.
“Got my key back from Steph.”
“Oh. How long have you been here?”
“About thirty minutes. How was your day at Vance? I didn’t think you would
be back already; it’s only six. But here you are passed out, snoring away, so it
must have felt like a long one.” He laughs.
I prop myself up on my elbow and look at him. “It was great. I got my own
office, with my name on the wall outside it—I can’t believe it! It’s wonderful. I
will be making a lot more money than I thought, and I get to read manuscripts;
how perfect is that? I’m just afraid that I will mess it up somehow because it’s so
perfect. You know?” I ramble.
“Whoa, Vance must like you.” He raises a brow. “But you’ll do fine, don’t
worry.”
“He said you worked there,” I tell him, testing his reaction.
“Of course he did.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Or that you have a job now? When do you even
have time to work?”
“You always have so many questions.” He runs his hands through his hair.
“But I will answer them,” he adds. “I didn’t tell you because, well, I don’t know
why, actually. And I make time to work. Whenever I am not with you, I find the

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time.”
I sit cross-legged and face him. “Mr. Vance really likes you—he said he wants
you to work for him again.”
“I am sure he does, but no, thanks. I make more than I did there and have less
work,” he brags and I roll my eyes.
“Tell me about your job. What exactly do you do?”
He shrugs. “Read manuscripts, edit them. Same thing you’ll do, but more
involved.”
“Oh. Do you like it?”
“Yes, Tessa. I do.” His tone is a little harsh.
“That’s good. Do you want to work for a publishing house when you
graduate?”
“I don’t know what I want to do.” He rolls his eyes.
“Did I say something?” I ask.
“No, you just ask too many questions all the time.”
“What?” Is he being sarcastic or serious?
“You don’t need to know every detail about my life,” he snaps.
“I am just making conversation, having a casual discussion about your job,” I
say. “Those are just normal things people do—sorry for taking an interest in your
everyday life.”
He doesn’t say anything. What the hell is his problem? I had an amazing day
and the last thing I want to do is fight with him. I direct my attention to the
ceiling and stay quiet as well. Eventually I learn there are ninety-five panels up
there, and forty screws holding them up.
“I need to take a shower,” I finally say.
“So go, then,” he huffs.
I roll my eyes and grab my toiletry bag. “You know, I thought we were past
this, the whole you-being-an-asshole-for-no-reason thing?” I say and walk out of
the room.
I take my time in the shower, shaving and reshaving my legs for the dress that
I bought to wear tomorrow for my first real day at Vance. I am beyond nervous,
but my excitement tops everything. I really wish Hardin wasn’t being so rude.
All I did was ask him about a job that he didn’t tell me about. I should be able to
talk to him about that, but there’s just so much about him that I don’t know, and
it makes me really uncomfortable.
I try to figure out how to explain that to him, but when I get back to my room,
Hardin’s gone.

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chapter seventy-seven
I
am beyond annoyed at Hardin’s unnecessary attitude, but I try to forget it and
brush the tangles out of my wet hair and put on the light pink lingerie I bought
today. I slip a T-shirt over my head and look over my stuff for tomorrow. All I
can think about is where he went; I know I’m obsessive and a little crazy, but I
can’t help worrying that he’s with Molly.
While deciding whether or not to call Hardin, I receive a text message from
Steph saying that she won’t be back tonight. She might as well move in with
Tristan and Nate; she stays there five nights a week and Tristan absolutely adores
her. He probably told her about his job on their second date and he probably
wouldn’t snap at her and leave for no reason.
“Lucky Steph,” I say to myself and grab the remote for her television. My
fingers press the buttons absentmindedly and I settle on a rerun of Friends that I
have seen at least one hundred times. I can’t remember the last time I watched
television, but it’s nice to just lie in bed and watch a simple comedy, to escape
from the most recent pointless fight with Hardin.
After a few episodes of various shows, I feel my eyes getting heavy. In my
sleepy state my anger momentarily disappears and I text Hardin good night, but
he doesn’t reply before sleep overtakes me.
“Shit.” A loud thud wakes me up. I jolt upright and turn on the lamp to find a
stumbling Hardin trying to navigate the dark room.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.
When he looks up at me his eyes are red and glossy. He is drunk. Great.

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“I came here to see you,” he says and plops down in the chair.
“Why?” I whine. I want him here, but not drunk and at two in the morning.
“Because I missed you.”
“Then why did you leave?”
“Because you were annoying me.”
Ouch. “Okay, I’m going back to sleep; you’re drunk and you’re obviously
going to be mean again.
“I’m not being mean, Tessa. And I’m not drunk . . . okay . . . I am, but so
what?”
“I don’t care that you are drunk, but it’s a school night and I need my sleep.” I
would stay up all night with him if I knew he wouldn’t say hurtful things to me
the entire time.