Текст книги "After We Fell"

Автор книги: Anna Todd

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chapter

thirty-five

HARDIN

Who the fuck does she think she is? She thinks just because I don’t want to go to Seattle with her that she can say shit like this to me? She doesn’t want me to fucking go?

She fucking uninvited me to Seattle, and she’s the one trying to slap me? I don’t fucking think so. I was only seeing red as I spoke, and her trying to hit me surprised me—a lot. I left her with wide eyes, her pupils blown in rage, but I had to get as far from that bullshit as I could.

I find myself at the small coffee shop in town. The coffee tastes like tar, and the weird-ass muffin I got is even worse. I hate this bullshit small town and its lack of every goddamn thing.

I tear three sugar packets at once and dump them into the disgusting coffee, stirring it with a plastic spoon. It’s too early for this shit.

“Good morning,” a familiar voice greets. Not the voice I wanted to hear, though.

“Why are you here?” I roll my eyes and ask Lillian as she comes around from behind me.

“Well, you obviously aren’t a morning person,” she says saccharinely and takes the seat in front of me.

“Go away,” I huff and look around the small café. A line has formed nearly to the door, and almost all of the tables are full. I should probably do everyone in line a favor and tell them to find a fucking Starbucks, because this place blows.

She eyes me. “You didn’t apologize, did you.”

“God, you are so damn nosy.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, and she smiles.

“Are you going to finish that?” She gestures to the rock-hard muffin in front of me.

I slide it over to her, and she tears off a piece. “I wouldn’t eat that,” I warn, but she does anyway.

“It’s not that bad,” she lies. I can tell she wants to spit it out, but instead she swallows it down. “So are you going to tell me why you didn’t apologize to Tamara?”

“Her fucking name is Tessa, if you call her—”

“Whoa, calm down. Joke, joke! I was just messing with you.” She giggles, proud of her annoying self.

“Ha. Ha.” I down the rest of my coffee.

“Anyway, why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do,” she presses.

“Why do you care, anyway?” I lean toward her, and she sits back in the chair.

“I don’t know . . . because you seem to love her, and you’re my friend.”

“Your friend? I don’t even know you, and you sure as hell don’t know me,” I declare.

Her neutral expression falters for a moment, and she blinks her eyes slowly. If she cries, I’m going to punch someone. I can’t handle this much drama this early in the fucking morning.

“Look, you’re cool and all. But this”—I gesture back and forth between her body and mine—“isn’t a friendship. I don’t have friendships.”

She tilts her head to the side. “You don’t have any friends? Not even one?”

“No, I have people I party with and Tessa.”

“You should have friends; at least one.”

“What would be the point of you and me being friends? We’re only here until tomorrow afternoon.”

She shrugs. “We could be friends until then.”

“You obviously don’t have any friends either.”

“Not many. Riley doesn’t seem to like them.”

“And? Why does that matter?”

“Because I don’t want to start a fight with her, so I just don’t hang out with them much.”

“Sorry, but Riley sounds like a bitch.”

“Don’t say that about her.” Lillian’s cheeks flush, and for the first time since I met her she’s exhibiting an emotion besides calmness or omniscience.

I play with my cup smoothly, kind of glad to get a rise out of her. “Just saying. I wouldn’t let someone tell me who I can and can’t be friends with.”

“So you’re telling me that Tessa has friends she hangs out with besides you?” She raises her brow, and I look away to think about her question.

She has friends . . . she has Landon. “Yes.”

“You don’t count.”

“No, not me. Landon.”

“Landon is your stepbrother; he doesn’t count.”

Steph is sort of Tessa’s friend but not really, and Zed . . . not a problem anymore. “She has me,” I say.

She smirks. “That’s exactly what I thought.”

“What does it matter? Once we get away from here, and start over, she can make new friends. We can make new friends together.”

“Sure. The problem is that you aren’t going to the same place,” she reminds me.

“She’ll come with me. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but you don’t know her. I do, and I know she can’t live without me.”

Lillian looks up at me with thoughtful eyes. “You know, there’s a big difference between not being able to live without someone and loving them.”

This chick doesn’t even know what she’s talking about—she makes no sense. “I don’t want to talk about her anymore; if we’re going to be friends, I need to know about you and Regan.”

“Riley,” she says sharply.

I chuckle lightly. “Annoying, isn’t it?”

Lillian glowers playfully at me, but then tells me all about how she met her girlfriend. They were partnered up together for Lillian’s freshman orientation. Riley had been rude at first but later made a move on her, surprising both of them. Apparently this Riley has a jealous streak and a temper. Sounds familiar.

“Most of our fights stem from her jealousy. She’s always afraid that I’ll stray from her. I don’t know why, because she’s the one always getting attention from everyone, male and female, and she’s dated both.” She sighs. “So it’s sort of like everyone’s fair game.”

“You haven’t?”

“No, I’ve never dated a guy.” She crinkles her nose. “Well, once in eighth grade, because I felt like I had to. My friends were hassling me for never having a boyfriend.”

“Why didn’t you just tell them?” I ask her.

“It’s not that simple.”

“It should be.”

She smiles. “Yes, it should be. But it’s not. Anyway, I’ve never dated anyone except Riley and one other girl.” Then her smile disappears. “Riley’s dated a lot.”

THE REST OF MY MORNING and the entire afternoon is spent this way, listening to this girl’s problems. I don’t mind as much as I thought, though. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one with these types of issues. Lillian reminds me a lot of Tessa and Landon. If they were morphed into one person, it would certainly be Lillian. I hate to admit it, but I don’t mind her company too much. She’s an outsider, like me, but she doesn’t judge me, because she barely knows me. Strangers come and go, in and out of the coffee shop, and each time a blonde steps in, I can’t help but look up, hoping it will be my blond stranger.

A funny little tune starts to play. “That would be my dad calling . . .” Lillian says and looks down at her phone. “Shit, it’s almost five,” she says, panicked. “We need to go. Well, I need to go. I still don’t have anything to wear tonight.”

“For what?” I ask her when she stands up.

“Dinner. You knew we’re going to dinner with your parents, didn’t you?”

“Karen isn’t my . . .” I begin but decide to let it go. She knows.

I get up and follow her down the block to a small clothing store filled with colorful dresses and gaudy jewelry. It smells like mothballs and salt water.

“There’s nothing to choose from,” she groans, holding up a bright pink frilly dress.

“That’s hideous,” I tell her, and she nods, hanging it back up.

I can’t help but think of what Tessa is doing right now. Is she wondering where I am? I’m sure she assumes that I’m with Lillian, which is true, but she doesn’t have anything to worry about. She knows this.

Wait . . . no, she doesn’t. I haven’t told her about Lillian’s girlfriend.

“Tessa doesn’t know you’re gay,” I blurt as she shows me a black beaded dress.

She looks at me smoothly and just sweeps her hand across the dress again, kind of like she did with the brandy bottle last night.

“I’m not giving you fashion advice here, so stop trying,” I groan.

She rolls her eyes. “So why didn’t you tell her?”

I poke at this feather necklace thing. “I don’t know, I didn’t think about it.”

“Well, I’m oh-so-flattered that my orientation was so unnnotable to you,” she says with feigned gratitude and a spread hand at her neck. “But you really should tell her.” She smiles. “No wonder she almost backhanded you.”

I knew I shouldn’t have told her about the slap.

“Shut up. I’ll tell her . . .” Although it might work in my favor not to, actually. “Maybe,” I add.

Lillian rolls her eyes, again. She rolls her eyes almost as much as Tessa does.

“She’s difficult, and I know what I’m doing, okay?” I think I do, at least. I know exactly how to push her buttons to get what I want.

“You need to dress up tonight; the place we’re going is disgustingly fancy,” she warns me while eyeing the dress with a twist of the hanger.

“Hell no, I’m not. What makes you think I’m going, anyway?”

“Why not? You want to make the missus a little less pissed off, don’t you?”

The sound of her words throws me off for a moment. “ ‘The missus’? Don’t call her that.”

She slaps a white button-up against my chest. “Just wear a nice shirt at least, otherwise my dad will give you shit about it all night,” she says and steps into the dressing room.

A few minutes later she comes out in the black dress. It looks good on her—she’s hot and all—but I immediately start fantasizing about how Tessa would look in it. It would be much tighter: Tessa’s boobs are much bigger than Lillian’s, Tessa’s hips are a little wider, so she would fill the dress much better.

“It’s not as ugly as the rest of the shit in here,” I half compliment, and she closes the curtain with yet another eye roll and a middle finger.

chapter

thirty-six

TESSA

I stare into the long mirror and ask Landon, “Are you sure this looks okay?”

“Yes, it’s fine,” he says with a smile. “Can we try to remember that I’m a guy, though?”

I sigh, then chuckle. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s not my fault you’re my only friend.”

The dark sparkly dress feels odd against my skin; the material is hard, and the small beads scratch me a little when I move. The small clothing boutique in town didn’t have much to choose from, and I surely wasn’t going to pick the hot-pink dress made entirely of tulle. I need something to wear to this dreaded dinner tonight, and Hardin’s suggestion that I wear jeans isn’t going to work.

“Do you think he’ll even come back before it’s time to leave?” I ask Landon.

Hardin took off, as always, after our fight and hasn’t been back since. He hasn’t called or texted either. He’s probably with the mystery girl with whom he loves to discuss our problems. You know, the girl he can talk to better than he can talk to his own girlfriend. In his anger, I wouldn’t be surprised if he did something with her to spite me.

No . . . he wouldn’t.

“I don’t know, honestly,” Landon says. “I hope he does. My mom will be disappointed if he doesn’t.”

“Yeah.” I push another pin into my bun and grab my mascara off of the bathroom counter.

“He’ll come around, he’s just stubborn.”

“I don’t know if we will, though.” I sweep the small brush across my lashes. “I’m reaching my breaking point, I can feel it. You know what I felt last night when he told me he was with another girl?”

“What?” He stares blankly at me.

“I think this is just the end of the turbulent love story.” I try to make a joke, but it falls flat.

“It’s weird hearing you say that, you of all people,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

“A little angry, but that’s it. It’s like I’m numb to it now, to all of it. I just don’t have it in me to keep doing this over and over. I’m beginning to think he’s a lost cause, and that breaks my heart,” I say, forbidding myself from crying.

“Nobody’s a lost cause. They just think they are, so they don’t even bother to try sometimes.”

“Are you guys ready?” Karen’s voice calls from the living room, and Landon assures her that we’ll be down any minute. I slide on my new pair of black heels with straps at the ankles. Unfortunately, they’re as uncomfortable as they look. It’s times like this that I miss wearing Toms every day.

Hardin still hasn’t returned by the time we pile into the car. “We can’t wait any longer,” Ken says through a disappointed frown.

“It’s fine, we can bring him something back,” Karen sweetly offers, knowing that’s not the solution but trying her best to calm her husband’s irritation.

Landon looks over at me, and I offer a smile to assure him that I’m fine. He tries to distract me the whole drive talking about various students we know, making little jokes about how they are in class. Especially some of the ones in the religion course.

As Ken pulls up to our destination, I see that the restaurant is exquisite. The building is a massive log cabin, big enough to be a lodge, and the inside contradicts the woodsy feel of the exterior. It’s modern and sleek, black and white everywhere, with gray accents along the walls and floor. The lighting is right on the verge of being too dark, but it adds to the atmosphere. Unexpectedly, my dress is the brightest thing in the room; when the light hits the glittering beads, they shine like diamonds in the dark, which everyone seems to notice.

“Scott,” I hear Ken tell the beautiful woman behind the rostrum.

“The rest of your party is already here.” She smiles, her perfect teeth white nearly to the point of blinding.

“Party?” I turn to Landon, and he shrugs.

We follow the woman to a table in the corner of the room. I hate the way everyone seems to be staring at me because of this dress. I should have gone with the hot-pink monstrosity; it would have attracted less attention. A middle-aged man knocks over his drink as we walk by, and Landon pulls me closer to his side as we pass the creep. The dress isn’t inappropriate; it rests just above my knees. The problem is that it was made for someone with a much smaller bust than me, causing the built-in bra to act as a push-up, giving me maximum cleavage.

“It’s about time you joined us,” an unfamiliar male voice says, and I peer around Karen to look for the source.

A man, who I assume is Ken’s friend, stands to shake his hand. My eyes move to his right, where his wife is smiling, greeting Karen. Next to her is a young girl—the girl, I sense on instinct—and my stomach drops. She’s beautiful, extremely beautiful.

And she’s wearing the exact same dress as I am.

Of course.

I can see the bright blue of her eyes from here, and when she smiles at me, she’s even more beautiful. I’m so distracted by my growing jealousy that I almost fail to notice that Hardin is sitting right next to her, dressed in a white button-down shirt.

chapter

thirty-seven

HARDIN

Oh my God . . .” Lillian whispers loudly. I’m broken from my thoughts of my earlier fight with Tessa and look up to see what she’s gaping at.

Tessa.

In a dress . . . that fucking dress that I was imagining her in. And it makes her already big chest look . . . fuck. I blink rapidly, trying to collect myself before she reaches the table. For a moment I’m convinced that I’m hallucinating; it looks even sexier than I imagined. Every guy she passes turns to look at her; one even knocks over his drink. I grip the edge of the table waiting for the asshole to speak to her. If he does, I swear to fuck—

“That’s Tessa? Oh my God.” Lillian is practically panting.

“Stop staring at her,” I warn, and she laughs.

The man who knocked over his drink leans away from his wife as his eyes follow my girl.

“Chill,” Lillian says, gently touching my hands. My scarred knuckles are now white from my tight grip on the table.

Landon pulls Tessa close to him and away from the married asshole; she smiles up at him, and he pulls her even closer as they walk. What the fuck was that?

Tessa stands behind Landon as Lillian’s parents and Karen and Ken go through the normal I’m-so-fucking-classy-because-I-shake-your-hand-even-though-I-saw-you-last-night shit. Before I know it, Tessa’s eyes find Lillian, and they widen and lower. She’s jealous.

Good. I was hoping she’d be.

chapter

thirty-eight

TESSA

Panic courses through me at the sight of Hardin sitting next to this girl—he doesn’t even acknowledge my presence as I take the seat next to Landon, on the other side of the table from him.

“Hello, and who might you be?” Ken’s friend asks with a smile. I can tell by his tone that he’s one of those men that think they are better than everyone else in the room.

“Hi, I’m Tessa,” I say, then smile curtly and nod. “Landon’s friend.”

My eyes dart to Hardin, whose lips press into a thin line. Well, he’s clearly entertaining the man’s daughter, so why ruin their fun?

“It’s great to meet you, Tessa. I’m Max, and this is Denise.” He gestures to the woman beside him.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Denise says. “The two of you are an adorable couple.”

Hardin starts coughing. Or choking. I don’t want to look at him and see which . . . but I can’t help it. When I do, his eyes are narrow, glaring at me.

Landon laughs. “Oh, we aren’t together.” He looks at Hardin, like he expects him to say something.

Of course he doesn’t. The girl looks slightly lost and a little uncomfortable. Good. Hardin leans into her and says something into her ear, and she smiles at him before shaking her head. What the hell is happening?

“I’m Lillian; it’s nice to meet you,” she introduces herself with a friendly smile.

Bitch.

“You, too,” I manage to say in return. My heart is hammering in my chest, and I can barely see straight. If we weren’t at the table with Hardin’s family and Ken’s friends, I would throw a drink in Hardin’s face, and with his eyes stinging, he wouldn’t have a chance to stop me from slapping him this time. A menu is placed in front of each of us, and I wait as one of the empty glasses in front of me is filled with water. Ken and Max begin to talk about the oddness of having to choose between tap and bottled water.

“Do you know what you want?” Landon asks quietly a few moments later. I know he’s trying to distract me from Hardin and his new friend.

“I . . . I don’t know,” I whisper and look over the fancy handwritten menu. I can’t imagine eating right now; my stomach won’t stop turning, and I can’t seem to control my breathing.

“Do you want to go?” he says into my ear. I glance across the table at Hardin, whose eyes meet mine before he turns back to Lillian.

Yes. I want to get the hell out of here and tell Hardin to never speak to me again.

“No. I’m not going anywhere,” I say and sit up higher, straightening my back against the chair.

“Good.” Landon praises me as a handsome server arrives at our table.

“We’ll have a bottle of your best white wine,” Ken’s friend tells him, and he nods. Just as he begins to walk away, Max calls after him.

“We weren’t finished yet,” he says. Max orders a list of appetizers. I’ve never heard of any of the dishes he’s chosen, but I don’t suspect I’ll be eating much of them anyway.

I try desperately not to look across the table at Hardin, but it’s hard, so damn hard. Why would he come here with her? He’s dressed up, too; if he doesn’t have jeans on under the table, I think what’s left of my heart will shatter. It takes me an hour of begging to get Hardin dressed in anything other than black jeans and a T-shirt, yet here he is next to this girl in a white button-down.

“I’ll give you a few minutes to look over the menu, and if you have any questions about the dishes, my name is Robert,” the server says. His eyes meet mine, and his mouth opens slightly before he looks away quickly, only to look back at me. It’s this dress and the damn cleavage. I offer a small, awkward smile, and he returns it, red creeping up his neck and spreading to his cheeks.

I expect him to look at Hardin, but then I remember that due to the way we’re seated, it’s Landon and I that look like a couple, and Hardin’s with Lillian. My stomach flips again.

“Hey, man. Take our order, or go,” Hardin says, interrupting my thoughts.

“S-sorry,” Robert stammers and leaves the table in haste.

All eyes move to Hardin, mostly showing disapproval of his behavior. Karen looks embarrassed; Ken, too.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be back. It’s his job,” Max says with a shrug. He would think Hardin’s behavior was acceptable.

I scowl at Hardin, but he doesn’t seem to care, he’s too infatuated by those damn blue eyes. As I watch him with her I feel like he’s a stranger to me, as if I’m intruding on some private moment shared between a loving couple. The thought causes bile to rise in my throat. I swallow it down, and I’m thankful when the server, Robert, returns with the wine and ice buckets, this time bringing another server along, likely for moral support. Or protection.

Hardin watches him the entire time, and I roll my eyes at his audacity: glaring at the poor guy when here he is, acting as if he doesn’t know me at all.

Nervously, Robert fills my glass to the brim, and I quietly thank him. He smiles less shyly this time and moves to fill Landon’s. I’ve never seen Landon drink except at Ken and Karen’s wedding, and even then he only had one glass of champagne. If I wasn’t so distraught over Hardin’s behavior, I’d turn down the wine and not drink in front of Ken and Karen, but I’ve had a long day, and without the wine I don’t think I be able to make it through this dinner.

Ken covers the top of his glass and says, “No, thank you,” when Robert comes his way.

I look up at Hardin to make sure he isn’t readying a snide remark about his father, but once again he’s talking quietly to Lillian.

I’m so confused right now—why is he doing this? Yes, we were fighting, but this is too much.

Taking a big sip, I find that the wine is cool and crisp and deliciously sweet on my tongue. I’m tempted to just gulp it all down, but I have to pace myself. The last thing I need is to get drunk and emotional in front of everyone. Hardin doesn’t decline the wine, but Lillian does. He rolls his eyes at her, teasing her, and I force my eyes away from them before I turn into a puddle of tears on the beautifully stained hardwood floor.

“. . . MAX WAS scaling the wall—he was so drunk that he had to be pulled down by campus security!” Ken says, and everyone at our table laughs.

Everyone except Hardin, of course.

I twirl my fork around my pasta and take another bite. I focus on how delicious the freshly made noodles are, and how they look wound around the tines of the fork. Otherwise I’d have to focus on Hardin.

“I think you have an admirer,” Denise says to me. I look up and follow her eyes to Robert, who is clearing the dishes from the table beside us, his eyes on me.

“Don’t pay him too much attention; just a waiter wanting what he can’t have,” Max states with a sly smile, surprising me with his callousness.

“Dad.” Lillian glares at her father.

But he just gives her a smile before cutting into his steak. “Sorry, sweetie, I’m only stating the truth . . . A girl as beautiful as Tessa here shouldn’t be looking at anyone working in hospitality.”

If only he’d stopped there, but oblivious—or immune to—our discomfort, Max continues his degrading remarks until I finally drop my fork onto my plate with a clatter.

“Don’t,” Hardin says to me, speaking to me for the first time since I arrived.

Shocked, I look at him, then back to Max, weighing my options. He’s being a jerk, and I’ve had almost an entire glass of wine. I should probably keep my mouth shut, like Hardin said.

“You can’t talk about people like that.” Lillian looks at her father and he shrugs.

“Fine, fine,” he grumbles, waving his knife a little and chewing on his steak. “Far be it from me to upset anyone.”

Beside him, his wife looks embarrassed as she wipes the corners of her mouth with a cloth napkin.

“I’m going to need more wine,” I tell Landon, and he smiles, sliding his half-empty glass over to me. I smile at the gesture. “I’ll wait for Robert to come back to the table. Thank you, though.”

I can feel Hardin’s eyes on me as I search the restaurant. I don’t see the server’s blond hair, so I reach over, grab the bottle myself, and fill my glass. I half expect Max to make a comment about my manners, but he refrains. Hardin is staring coolly across the room, and Lillian is talking to her mother. I’m in my own world, a hallucination in which Hardin is sitting next to me, his hand on my thigh, and he leans in to make some cheeky comment that makes me laugh and blush feverishly.

My head is a little fuzzy as I clear all of the food off my plate and finish off my second glass of wine. Landon is in conversation with Max and Ken about sports, of course. I stare at the printed tablecloth, trying to find faces or pictures inside the black and white swirls. I find a cluster that resembles an H, and my finger traces the pattern repeatedly. Suddenly I stop and look up quickly, paranoid that he may have seen me tracing the letter.

But Hardin isn’t paying attention to me; his eyes are only for her.

“I need some air,” I tell Landon and stand. My chair screeches against the wooden floor, and Hardin looks up from his conversation momentarily, but then he catches himself and pretends to have only been looking for his water before he returns to talking to this new girl of his.