Текст книги "After We Fell"

Автор книги: Anna Todd

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Текущая страница: 28 (всего у книги 49 страниц)

chapter

eighty-six

TESSA

As I’m plodding from my room to the couch with a copy of Wuthering Heights in hand, Kimberly says with a beautiful wide smile, “You’re in a funk, Tessa, and as your friend and mentor, it’s my responsibility to get you out of it.” Her blond hair is straight and glossy, and her makeup is too perfect. She’s one of those women that other women love to hate.

“Mentor? Really?” I giggle, and she rolls her heavily shadowed eyes.

“Okay, maybe not so much of a mentor. But a friend,” she corrects herself.

“I’m not in a funk. I just have a lot of course work to do, and I just don’t feel like going anywhere tonight,” I say.

“You are nineteen, girl—act like it! When I was nineteen, I was out all the time. I barely showed up for any of my classes. I dated boys . . . many, many, boys.” Her heel taps on the concrete floor.

“Did you, now?” Christian cuts in as he enters the room. He’s unwrapping some sort of tape from around his hands.

“None as wonderful as you, of course.” Kim winks at him, and he laughs.

He grins. “That’s what I get for dating such a young woman. I have to compete with still-fresh memories of college-age men.” His green eyes shine with humor.

“Hey, I’m not that much younger than you,” she says with a smack to his chest.

“Twelve years,” he points out.

Kimberly rolls her eyes. “Yes, but you’re a young soul. Unlike Tessa here, who behaves as if she’s forty.”

“Sure, honey.” He tosses the used tape into a wastepaper basket. “Now, go on and enlighten the girl about how not to behave during college.” He gives her one last smile, smacks her on her ass, and disappears, leaving her grinning from ear to ear.

“I love that man so much,” she tells me, and I nod along, because I know it’s true. “I really wanted you to come along with us tonight. Christian and his partners just opened a new jazz club downtown. It’s beautiful, and I’m sure you’d have an amazing time.”

“Christian owns a jazz club?” I ask.

“He invested in it, so he didn’t actually do any work,” she whispers with a sly smile. “They have guest musicians on Saturdays, sort of an open-mic-type thing.”

I shrug. “Maybe next weekend?” The last thing I want to do right now is get dressed and go out to any type of club.

“Fine, next weekend: I’m holding you to that. Smith doesn’t want to come either. I’ve tried to convince him, but you know how he is. He lectured me on how jazz is nothing, compared to classical music.” She laughs. “So his sitter will be here in a few hours.”

“I can watch him,” I offer. “I’ll be here, anyway.”

“No, honey, you don’t have to.”

“I know, but I want to.”

“Well, it would be kinda great, and so much easier. He doesn’t like the sitter, for some reason.”

“He doesn’t like me either.” I laugh.

“True, but he talks to you more than he does to most people.” She looks down at the engagement ring on her finger and then up to Smith’s school portrait hanging over the mantel. “He’s such a sweet boy . . . just very guarded,” she says quietly, almost as an afterthought.

A doorbell sounds, breaking the moment.

Kimberly looks at me quizzically. “Now, who the heck would be coming here in the middle of the afternoon?” she asks, as if I could possibly know the answer.

I stand there, looking at a really cute picture of Smith on the wall. He’s such a serious little kid. Like a little engineer or mathematician, almost.

“Well . . . well . . . well . . . Look who it is!” Kimberly calls from the door. When I turn to see what she’s talking about, my mouth falls open.

“Hardin!” His name falls from my lips without a single thought, and an immediate surge of adrenaline at the sight of him propels me across the room. My socks make me slide on the hardwood floor, nearly causing me to fall on my face. Once I’m steady enough to continue, I latch myself on to him, hugging him tighter than maybe I ever have before.

chapter

eighty-seven

HARDIN

I nearly have a goddamned heart attack when Tessa stumbles and starts to fall, but she quickly collects herself and hurls herself into my arms.

This is sure as hell not the reaction I had expected.

I thought I would be granted with an uncomfortable “hello” and a smile that didn’t meet her eyes. But man, was I wrong. Very wrong. Tessa tightens her arms around my neck, and I bury my head in her hair. The sweet scent of her shampoo fills my senses, and I’m momentarily overwhelmed by her presence, warm and welcoming, in my arms.

“Hi,” I finally say, and she glances up at me.

“You’re freezing,” she remarks. Her hands move to my cheeks, instantly heating them.

“It’s freezing rain out there, and it’s worse back home . . . my home, I mean,” I correct myself. Her eyes quickly dart to the floor before looking back up at me.

“What are you doing here?” she practically whispers to me, trying her best to shield the question from our company.

“I called Christian on the way up,” I inform Kimberly, who continues to faux-glare at me, a smirk playing on her painted lips.

Couldn’t stay away, could you? she mouths to me behind Tessa’s back. That woman is the biggest ballbuster around; I’m not sure how Christian puts up with her, and willingly at that.

“You can stay in the room across from Tessa’s, she can show you,” Kimberly announces and then disappears.

I detach myself from Tessa and give her a little smile.

“I—I’m sorry!” Tessa stutters, looking around the room and blushing. “I don’t know why I did that. I-it’s just nice to see a familiar face.”

“It’s good to see you, too,” I tell her, trying to free her of her embarrassment. It’s not like I let go because I didn’t want to hold her. Her lack of confidence always has her interpret things in negative ways.

“I slipped on the floor,” she blurts out, then flushes again as I bite down on the inside of my cheek, trying my best not to laugh at her.

“Yeah, I saw it.” I can’t help the small chuckle that escapes from me, and she shakes her head, laughing at herself.

“Are you really staying?” she asks.

“Yes, if that’s okay with you?”

Her eyes are bright and a lighter shade of blue-gray than usual. Her hair is down, slightly wavy and unstyled. Not a trace of makeup mars her complexion, and she looks absolutely fucking perfect. The number of hours that I’ve spent picturing her face in front of me did not adequately prepare me for the moment when I’m finally able to look at her again. My mind can’t possibly catch all of her, all the details . . . the freckle just below her neckline, the curve of her lips, the brilliance of her eyes—it’s fucking impossible.

Her T-shirt hangs loose on her body, and those hideous fluffy cloud pants cover her legs. She keeps adjusting her shirt, tugging it down, playing with the collar; she’s the only girl I’ve ever seen who can manage to wear these ugly-ass clothes to bed but somehow still look so damn sexy. Through the white shirt, I can see her black bra . . . she’s wearing that black lace one that I love. I wonder if she’s aware that I can see right through her shirt . . .

“What changed your mind? And where’s the rest of your stuff?” Tessa asks as she leads me down the hallway. “Everyone else’s rooms are upstairs,” she informs me, unaware of my perverted thoughts. Or maybe she’s not . . .

“This is all I brought. It’s only for one night,” I tell her, and she stops in front of me.

“You’re only staying one night?” she says, her eyes searching my face.

“Yeah, what did you think? That I was moving here?” Of course she did. She always has too much faith in me.

“No.” She looks away. “I don’t know, I thought a little longer than that, though.” And now this is where it gets awkward. I knew it would.

“Here’s the room.” She opens the door for me, but I don’t step inside.

“Your room is just across the hall?” My voice breaks, and I sound like a damned fool.

“Yeah,” she mutters, looking down at her fingers.

“Cool,” I remark dumbly. “You’re sure it’s okay that I’m here, right?”

“Yes, of course. You know I missed you.”

The excitement on her face seems to vanish as the memory of my previous actions—being an asshole in general, and refusing to come to Seattle specifically—looms unspoken over our heads. I’ll never forget the way she ran to me, literally, when she saw me at the door; there was such emotion on her face, so much longing, and I felt it, too, more than she did. I’ve been insane without her.

“Yeah, but the last time that we saw one another in that apartment I was basically kicking you out.” I watch her face change as my words remind her of what took place. I can literally see the fucking wall rising up between us as she gives me a fake smile. “I don’t know why I brought that up,” I say and wipe my wrist across my forehead.

Her eyes move to another room; her room. Then turning to the door we’re standing in front of, she says, “You can put your stuff in here.”

Grabbing my bag from me, she heads inside and unzips it on the bed. I watch as she pulls the wadded-up T-shirts and boxers out of the bag and scrunches her nose.

“Are these clean?” she asks.

I shake my head. “The boxers are.”

She holds the bag at arm’s length. “I don’t even want to know what the apartment looks like.”

The corners of her mouth lift into a smug smile. “Good thing you won’t ever see it again, then,” I tease her. Her smile fades.

What a shitty joke—what the fuck is wrong with me?

“I didn’t mean it that way,” I say quickly, desperate to recover from my poor choice of words.

“It’s fine. Relax, okay?” Her voice is gentle. “It’s only me, Hardin.”

“I know.” I take a deep breath and continue, “It just feels like it’s been so fucking long, and we’re in that weird middle, half-relationship shit that we are really shitty at. And we haven’t seen each other, and I’ve just missed you, and I hope you missed me, too.” Wow, I really said that all way too fast.

She smiles. “I did.”

“You did what?” I press for the exact words.

“I missed you. I told you that every day we’ve talked.”

“I know.” I step closer to her. “I just wanted to hear it again.” I reach out and tuck her hair behind her ears, using both hands, and she leans into me.

“When did you get here?” a small voice suddenly says, and Tessa jumps away from me.

Great. Just fucking great.

And there’s Smith, standing in the doorway of Tessa’s new bedroom.

“Just now,” I reply, hoping that he’ll leave the room so I can continue what almost was started moments ago.

“Why did you come?” he asks and enters the room.

I point to Tessa, who is now more than five feet away from me, pulling my clothes out of my bag and gathering them in her arms. “I came to see her.”

“Oh,” he quietly replies, staring down at his feet.

“Do you not want me here?” I inquire.

“I don’t mind,” he says with a shrug, and I smile at him.

“Good, because I wouldn’t have left if you did.”

“I know.” Smith smiles back and leaves Tessa and me alone. Thank fucking God.

“He likes you,” Tessa says.

“He’s okay.” I shrug, and she laughs.

“You like him, too,” she accuses.

“No, I don’t. I said simply: He’s okay.”

She rolls her eyes. “Suuuuure.”

She’s right, I do sort of like him. More than any other five-year-old that I’ve ever met, at least.

“I’m watching him tonight while Kim and Christian go to a club opening,” she says.

“Why aren’t you going along?”

“I don’t know, I just didn’t want to.”

“Hmm.” I pinch my lips between my fingers to hide my smile from her. I’m thrilled that she didn’t want to go out, and I find myself hoping that she’d planned on spending her evening talking to me on the phone.

Tessa gives me a weird look. “You can go if you’d like; you don’t have to stay in with me.”

I give her an indignant look. “What? I didn’t drive all this way to go out to some shitty club without you. You don’t want me to stay with you?”

Her eyes meet mine, and she presses my clothes to her chest. “Yes, of course I want you to stay.”

“Good, because I wouldn’t have left if you didn’t,” I joke.

She doesn’t smile the way Smith did, but she does roll her eyes, which is just as cute.

“Where are you going?” I ask when I notice her inching toward the door with my things.

She gives me a look that’s both funny and sultry. “To do your laundry,” she says, and disappears into the hall.

chapter

eighty-eight

TESSA

My thoughts are racing as I start the washing machine. Hardin came here, to Seattle—and I didn’t have to ask or beg him. He came of his own accord. Even if it’s only for one night, it means so much to me, and I hope that it will turn out to be a step in the right direction for us. I’m still so conflicted when it comes to our relationship . . . We always have so many problems, so many pointless fights. We’re such different people, and I’m at a point now where I’m not sure it will ever work.

But right now, now that he’s here with me, I want nothing more than to try this long-distance half relationship/half friendship, and see where it takes us.

“I knew he’d show up,” Kimberly says from behind me.

When I turn around, I see her leaning against the doorframe of the laundry room. “I didn’t,” I tell her.

She gives me an oh-please look. “You had to know he would. I’ve never seen a couple like the two of you.”

I sigh. “We aren’t exactly a couple . . .”

“You ran into his arms like something out of a movie. He’s been here for less than fifteen minutes, and you’re already doing his laundry.” She nods to the machine.

“Well, his clothes are filthy,” I say, ignoring the first part of her remark.

“You two just can’t stay away from one another; it’s really something to watch. I do wish you were coming out tonight so you could get dressed up and show him what he’s missing by not being here in Seattle with you.” She winks and then leaves me alone in the laundry room.

She’s right about Hardin and me not being able to stay away from each other. It’s always been that way, since the day I met him. Even when I tried to convince myself that I didn’t want him, I couldn’t ignore the fluttering I felt inside me every time we ran into each other.

Back then, Hardin always seemed to appear wherever I was . . . Granted, I did go to his fraternity house every chance I could. I hated it there, but something inside me drew me to the place, knowing that if I went, I would see him. I didn’t admit it then, not even to myself, but I longed for his company, even when he was being cruel to me. The memories feel so ancient and almost dreamlike as I recall the way he used to stare at me during class, then roll his eyes when I said hello.

The washing machine makes a random little beep, bringing me back to reality, and I hurry down the hallway to the guest room that has been designated as Hardin’s for the night. The room is empty; Hardin’s empty bag is still on the bed, but he’s nowhere to be found. I walk across the hall and find him standing over the desk in my room. His fingertips are tracing the cover of one of my notebooks.

“What are you doing in here?” I ask.

“I just wanted to see where you’re . . . living now. I wanted to see your room.”

“Oh.” I notice the way his brows pull together when he calls it “my room.”

“Is this for a class?” he asks, holding up the black leather notebook.

“It’s for creative writing.” I nod at him. “Did you read it?” I can’t help but feel a little nervous at the thought that he may have. I’ve only completed one assignment so far, but like everything else in my life, it ended up relating to him.

“A little.”

“It’s just an assignment,” I say, fumbling to explain myself. “We were asked to do a freestyle essay as the first assignment and—”

“It’s good, really good,” he says, praising me, and places the book back on the desk for a moment before picking it up again and opening it to the first page. “ ‘Who I am.’ ” He reads the first line out loud.

“Please don’t,” I beg.

He gives me a questioning little smirk. “Since when are you shy about showing your schoolwork?”

“I’m not. It’s just . . . that piece is personal. I’m not even sure if I want to turn it in.”

“I read your religion journal,” he says—and my heart stops.

“What?” I pray that I heard him wrong. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t have read it . . .

“I read it. You left it at the apartment, and I found it.”

This is humiliating. I stand in silence while Hardin stares at me from across the room. Those were private thoughts that I never expected anyone to read, except my professor, maybe. I’m mortified that Hardin pored over my deepest thoughts.

“You weren’t supposed to read those. Why would you?” I ask, trying not to look at him.

“Every entry was about me,” he says by way of defending himself.

“That’s not the point, Hardin.” My stomach is in my throat, making it hard to breathe. “I was going through a really bad time, and those were private thoughts for my journal. You were never meant to—”

“They were really good, Tess. So good. It hurt me to read the way you were feeling, but the words, what you had to say—it was perfect.”

I know he’s trying to compliment me, but it only embarrasses me further.

“How would you feel if I read something you wrote to express your feelings in a private way?” I ignore the compliments from him about my writing. His eyes flash with panic, and I tilt my head in confusion. “What?”

“Nothing,” is all he says, shaking his head.

chapter

eighty-nine

HARDIN

The look in her eyes almost makes me stop, but I have to be honest, and I want her to know how interesting I found her writing. “I’ve read it at least ten times,” I admit.

Her wide eyes don’t meet mine, but her lips part slightly and she replies, “You have?”

“Don’t be ashamed. It’s only me, remember?” I smile at her, and she steps closer to me.

“I know, but I probably sounded so pathetic. I wasn’t thinking clearly when I was writing them.”

I press my fingers against her lips to silence her. “No, you didn’t. They were brilliant.”

“I . . .” She tries to speak beneath my fingers, and I press them harder.

“Are you done yet?” I grin at her, and she nods. Slowly, I remove my fingers from her lips, and her tongue darts out to wet them. I can’t help but stare.

“I have to kiss you,” I whisper, our faces mere inches apart. Her eyes look into mine, and she swallows loudly before licking her lips again.

“Okay,” she whispers back to me. Her hands are greedy as she wraps her fists around the fabric of my shirt. She pulls me closer, her breathing heavy.

Just before our lips can connect, a knock sounds at the bedroom door. “Tessa?” Kimberly’s high-pitched voice calls through the half-open door.

“Get rid of her,” I whisper, and Tessa backs away from me.

First the kid, now his mom. We might as well invite Vance to join as well.

“We’re leaving in a few minutes,” Kimberly says without coming in.

Good for you. Now get the fuck out of here . . .

“Okay—I’ll be right out,” Tessa responds, and my irritation grows.

“Thanks, hon,” Kimberly says and walks off, humming some pop song.

“I shouldn’t have even fucking—” I begin.

When Tessa looks over at me, I stop myself from finishing my rude remark. It wasn’t true, anyway . . . nothing could keep me from wanting to be here right now.

“I have to go out there now, to watch Smith. If you want to stay in here, you can.”

“No, I want to be wherever you are,” I tell her, and she smiles.

Fuck, I want to kiss her. I’ve missed her so much, and she says she’s missed me, too . . . Why doesn’t she just . . . Her hands wrap around the top of my black T-shirt, and she presses her lips against mine. I feel as if someone has plugged me into an electrical outlet, every fiber of me igniting and buzzing. Her tongue enters my mouth, pressing and caressing, and I wrap my hands around her hips.

I pull her across the room until my feet hit the footboard of the bed. I lie back, and she falls gently on top of me. Wrapping her body into my arms, I turn us over so her body is under mine. I can feel her pulse hammering under my lips as they slide down her neckline and back up to the sweet spot just under her ear. Gasps and quiet moans are my reward. Slowly, I begin what I know are torturing movements, grinding my hips against hers, pressing her into the mattress. Tessa’s fingers move to touch the heated skin under my T-shirt, and her nails rake down my back. As I bring her earlobe between my lips—

The image of Zed thrusting into her flashes through my mind, and I’m on my feet within seconds.

“What’s wrong?” she asks. Her lips are deep pink and swollen from my gentle assault.

“I-it’s, it’s nothing. We should . . . um . . . go out there. Take care of the little shit,” I respond frantically.

“Hardin,” she presses.

“Tessa, let it go. It’s nothing.” Oh, you know, just that I dreamed of Zed fucking you practically through to the other side of our mattress, and now I can’t stop picturing it.

“Okay.” She lifts herself from the bed and wipes her hands against the soft material of her pajamas.

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to rid my mind of the disgusting images. If that poser asshole interrupts another second of my time with Tessa, I’ll break every bone in his goddamned body.