Текст книги "After We Fell"

Автор книги: Anna Todd

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chapter

five

HARDIN

When I’d stepped outside, the wind whipped around me, carrying the one voice I didn’t expect to hear right now. I’d just had to endure hearing a lot of people say a lot of bad things about me, and I just had to remain quiet. And afterward, all I wanted to hear was the voice of my girl, my angel.

And there was her voice. But there was also his. I turn the corner, and indeed, there he is. There they are. Tessa and Zed.

My first thoughts were: Why the fuck is he here? Why the fuck is Tessa outside talking to him? What part of “stay the fuck away from him” does she not fucking get?

When that motherfucker raised his voice at her, I started walking toward them: nobody yells at her like that. But when he mentioned Seattle . . . I was stopped in my tracks. Tessa is planning to go to Seattle?

And Zed knew, but I didn’t?

This isn’t happening, this can’t actually be happening. She would never plan to leave without telling me . . .

Zed’s wild eyes and shit-eating grin mock me as I try to collect my fucked-up thoughts. When Tessa turns to me, her movements are painstakingly slow. Her blue-gray eyes are wide, pupils blown out in surprise when they meet mine.

“Hardin . . .” I can see she’s saying the words, but her voice is small, lost in the wind.

Unsure what to say, I stand still while my mouth drops open, closes, opens—back and forth in an endless pattern until the words finally fall from my lips. “So this was your plan, then?” I manage.

She pushes her hair back from her face, her mouth turns to a frown immediately, and she rubs her hands up and down her arms, which are crossed in front of her chest.

“No! It’s not like that, Hardin, I—”

“You two are quite the fucking schemers, aren’t you? You . . .” I point to the bastard. “You fucking scheme and plot behind my back and try to make a move on my girl, over and fucking over. No matter what I do, no matter how many times I pound your goddamned face in, you still keep crawling back like a fucking cockroach.”

Amazingly, he dares to speak. “She’s—”

“And you . . .” I point to the blond girl who has my world under the sharp heel of her black shoe. “You—you keep playing mind games with me, acting like you give a fuck, when really you’ve been planning to leave me this entire time! You know I won’t go to Seattle, yet you’re planning to run off—without telling me!”

Her eyes glassy, she pleads with me. “That’s why I hadn’t told you yet, Hardin, because—”

“Stop fucking talking,” I say, and her hand moves to her chest, like my words are causing her pain.

Maybe they are. Maybe I want them to, so she can feel what I feel.

How could she humiliate me this way—in front of Zed, of all people?

“Why is he here?” I ask her.

There is no evidence of his smug grin when she turns to look at him before looking back at me. “I asked him to meet me here.”

I stagger back in mock surprise. Or maybe it’s real surprise—I can’t tell what these feelings really are, rushing through me so quickly. “Well, there we go! The two of you obviously have something special here.”

“I only wanted to talk to him about the charges. I’m trying to help you, Hardin. Please, just listen to me.” She steps toward me, moving her hair from her face again.

I shake my head. “Bullshit! I heard your entire conversation. If you don’t want him, tell him right now, in front of me.”

Her watery eyes plead silently for me to give in and not make her humiliate him in front of me, but it doesn’t sway me.

“Now, or I’m done with you.” My own words burn like acid on my tongue.

“I don’t want you, Zed,” she says, facing me. Her words are rushed, panicked, and I know it’s hurting her to say them.

“At all?” I ask, mimicking Zed’s grin from earlier.

“At all.” She frowns, and he runs his hands through his hair.

“You never want to see him again,” I instruct. “Turn and tell him that.”

But it’s Zed who speaks up. “Hardin, just stop. Leave it alone. I got the message. You don’t have to play into his sick game, Tessa. I get it,” he says. He looks pathetic, like a sad child.

“Tessa . . .” I start, but when she looks up at me, what I see behind her eyes nearly brings me to my knees. Disgust—she is full of disgust for me.

She takes a step toward me. “No, Hardin, I won’t do it. Not because I want to be with him—because I don’t. I love you—only you—but you’re only doing this to prove a point, and it’s ugly, and it’s cruel, and I won’t help you.” She bites the inside of her cheek, trying not to cry.

What the hell am I doing?

With fiery intensity, she tells me, “I’m going home; when you want to talk about Seattle, that’s where I’ll be.” With that, she turns to walk away.

“You don’t have a way to get home!” I call to her.

Zed reaches out an arm in her direction. “I’ll take her,” he says.

Which breaks something in me. “If I wasn’t already in a bunch of shit because of you, I would kill you right now. I don’t just mean break a bone, I mean I would literally crack your skull open against the concrete and watch you bleed out all over this—”

“Stop it!” Tessa yells as she turns, covering her ears.

“Tessa, if you—” Zed says softly.

“Zed, I appreciate everything you’ve done, but you really need to stop.” She tries to sound stern but fails miserably.

With a final sigh, he turns on his heel and walks away.

I head to the car, and as soon as I’m near it, my father and Landon appear—of fucking course. I hear the click of Tessa’s heels behind me.

“We’re going,” I tell them before they can get a word in.

“I’ll call you in a little while,” she says to Landon.

“You’re still going Wednesday, right?” he asks her.

She smiles at him, a fake smile to mask the panic behind her eyes. “Yeah, of course.”

Landon glares at me, obviously noticing the tension between us. Does he know about her plan? Probably—he probably helped her develop it.

I climb into the car, not even trying to hide my lack of patience.

“I’ll call you,” she says again to Landon and waves goodbye to my father before getting in. I immediately turn the music off as she buckles her seat belt.

“Go ahead,” she says, no emotion in her voice.

“What?”

“Go ahead and scream at me. I know you’re going to.”

I’m stunned into silence by her assumption. Granted, I had planned on yelling at her, but the way she just expects it throws me off guard.

But of course she expects it—that’s what always happens. That’s what I do . . .

“Well?” Her lips are pressed in a hard line.

“I’m not going to yell at you.”

She glances over at me momentarily before focusing at some point out beyond the window.

“I don’t know what to do except scream at you . . . that’s the problem.” I sigh in defeat, my forehead resting against the steering wheel.

“I wasn’t planning this behind your back, Hardin, not purposely.”

“It sure as hell seems that way.”

“I would never do that to you. I love you. You’ll understand when we go over it.”

Her words bounce right off of me as anger takes over. “I understand you’re moving—soon. I don’t even know when—and we live together, Tessa. We share a fucking bed, and you’re going to just leave me? I always knew you would.”

I hear the click of her seat belt and then feel her hand pushing me back by the shoulders. Within seconds she’s on my lap, bare thighs straddling me, cold arms wrapped around my neck, her tear-soaked face buried in my chest.

“Get off of me,” I say, attempting to unwrap her arms from me.

“Why do you always assume I’m going to leave you?” She tightens her grip.

“Because you will.”

“I’m not going to Seattle to leave you, I’m going for myself and my career. It’s always been my plan to go there, and this is an incredible opportunity. I asked Mr. Vance while we were figuring out what we were going to do, and I planned on telling you so many times, but you either cut me off or didn’t want to talk about anything serious.”

All I can think of is her packing her bags and leaving me with nothing but some bullshit note on the counter. “Don’t you dare try to blame me.” My voice doesn’t hold as much conviction as I intended.

“I’m not blaming you, but I knew you wouldn’t be supportive; you know how important this is to me.”

“What are you going to do, then? If you go, I can’t be with you. I love you, Tessa, but I’m not going to Seattle.”

“Why? You don’t even know if you’d like it or not. We could at least try it, and if you hate it, we could go to England . . . maybe,” she says with a sniffle.

“You don’t know if you’ll like Seattle either.” I look at her with blank eyes. “I’m sorry, but you have to choose: me or Seattle.”

She looks up at me for a moment, then moves back to the passenger seat without a word.

“You don’t have to decide right now, but time is running out.” I put the car in drive and pull out of the small space.

“I can’t believe you’re making me choose.” She doesn’t look at me.

“You knew how I felt about Seattle. You’re lucky I kept my cool back there when you were with him.”

“I’m ‘lucky’?” she scoffs.

“This day is shit already; let’s not fight about it. I’m going to need an answer by Friday. Unless, of course, you’ll be gone by then.” The idea sends a chill through my body.

I know she’ll choose me—she has to. We can go to England and get away from all this bullshit. She hasn’t said a word about missing classes today, which I’m glad for, since that’s another fight I don’t want to have.

“You’re being so selfish,” she accuses.

I don’t argue, because I know she’s right. But I do say, “Well, some might say selfish is also not telling someone when they plan on leaving them. Where are you going to live? Do you already have a place?”

“No, I was going to look for one tomorrow. We leave Wednesday for the trip with your family.” It takes me a moment to realize who she’s referring to.

“We?”

“You said you’d go . . .”

“I’m still trying to recover from this Seattle shit, Tessa.” I know I’m being an asshole, but this is so fucked up. “And let’s not forget you calling Zed,” I add, doubling down.

Tessa stays silent as I drive. I have to look over at her multiple times to make sure she’s still awake.

“Are you not speaking to me now?” I finally ask her as we approach the parking lot of our . . . my apartment.

“I don’t know what to say.” Her voice is quiet, defeated.

I park, and it hits me. Shit. “You’re dad’s still here, isn’t he?”

“I don’t know where else he would go . . .” she says without looking at me.

We get out of the car, and I say, “Well, when we get upstairs, I’ll ask him where he needs to be dropped off at.”

“No, I’ll take him,” she mumbles.

Even though my girl’s walking next to me, she seems miles away.

chapter

six

TESSA

I’m too disappointed in Hardin to argue, and he’s too pissed at me to speak without screaming. He actually handled the news better than I thought he would, but how could he make me choose? He knows how important Seattle is to me, and it’s not like he has a problem with me giving something up for him—that’s what hurts me the most. He always says he can’t be away from me, that he can’t live without me, yet he’s giving me an ultimatum, and it’s not fair.

“If he took off with any of our shit . . .” Hardin begins as we get to the door.

“Enough.” Hopefully my exhaustion is heard through my soft dismissal, so he won’t press it.

“Just saying.”

I push my key into the lock and twist, momentarily considering the possibility of what Hardin has mentioned. I don’t know the man, really.

Any paranoia I have disappears when we walk inside. My father’s body is slumped over the arm of the couch. His mouth is wide open, and deep snores escape from his parted lips.

Without another word, Hardin walks into the bedroom and I go to the kitchen for a glass of water and a minute to think about my next step. The last thing that I want to do is fight with Hardin, but I’m beyond sick of him only thinking of himself. I know he has changed so much, tried so hard, but I’ve given him chance after chance, resulting in an endless breakup-makeup cycle that would make even Catherine Earnshaw cringe. I don’t know how long I can keep my head above water when I’m fighting off the tidal wave that we call a relationship. Every time I feel like I’ve learned to tread its waters, I’m sucked back under by yet another conflict with Hardin.

After a few moments, I get up and look over at my father: still snoring in a way I would find amusing if I wasn’t so preoccupied. Deciding on a course of action, I head into the bedroom.

Hardin is lying on his back, his arms tucked under his head as he stares at the ceiling. I’m about to speak when he breaks the silence.

“I got expelled. Just in case you were wondering.”

I turn to him quickly, my heart racing. “What?”

“Yep. Sure did.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“I’m so sorry. I should have asked earlier.” I thought for sure Ken could get his son out of this mess. I’m devastated for him.

“It’s okay. You were otherwise occupied with Zed and plans for Seattle, remember?”

I sit on the edge of the bed, as far from him as possible, and try my best to bite my tongue. It’s a wasted effort. “I was trying to find out about the charges against you. He says he’s still—”

He interrupts me with his eyebrows raised in mockery. “I heard him. I was there, remember?”

“Hardin, I’ve had enough of your attitude. I know you’re upset, but you need to stop being so disrespectful.” I speak slowly, hoping the words sink in.

He’s dumbfounded for a moment, but he quickly recovers. “Excuse me?”

I try to keep the most neutral, if stern, expression I can manage. “You heard me: stop talking to me like that.”

“I’m sorry—I get kicked out of school, then find you with him, then learn you’re going to Seattle. I’d say I’m entitled to be a little angry.”

“Yes, you are, but you aren’t entitled to be a jerk. I was hoping we could actually talk about this and work it out like adults . . . for once.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He sits up, but I keep my distance.

“It means that after six months of this back-and-forth, I thought we could possibly solve a problem without one of us leaving or breaking things.”

“Six months?” His jaw drops.

“Yes, six months.” Awkwardly, I avoid his eyes. “Well, since we met.”

“I hadn’t realized it’s been that long.”

“Well, it has.” It feels like a lifetime to me.

“It doesn’t feel like that long . . .”

“Is that a problem for you? We’ve been seeing each other too long?” I finally meet his green eyes.

“No, Tessa, it’s just odd to think about, I guess. I’ve never been in an actual relationship, so six months is a long time.”

“Well, we haven’t been dating the entire time. Most of it was spent fighting or avoiding one another,” I remind him.

“How long, exactly, were you with Noah?”

His question surprises me. We’ve had a few talks regarding my relationship with Noah, but they usually last less than five minutes, ending abruptly because of Hardin’s jealousy.

“We were best friends since I can remember, but only started dating halfway through high school. I think we’d basically been dating before then but we just didn’t realize it.” I watch Hardin with careful eyes, waiting for a reaction.

Talking about Noah makes me miss him—not in a romantic way, but in that way you miss your family after not seeing them for an extended period.

“Oh.” He rests his hands in his lap, making me want to reach across and hold them. “Did you fight?”

“Sometimes. Our fights were over things like what movie to watch, or him being late to pick me up.”

He doesn’t look up from his hands. “Not like we fight, then?”

“I don’t think anyone fights like we do.” I smile in an attempt to reassure him.

“What else did you do? With him, I mean,” he says, and I swear that sitting in Hardin’s place on the bed there is now a small child, green eyes bright, hands nearly shaking.

I give a gentle shrug. “We didn’t do much, really, outside of studying and watching hundreds of movies. We were more like best friends, I guess.”

“You loved him,” the child reminds me.

“Not the way that I love you,” I tell him, just like I have countless times before.

“Would you have given up Seattle for him?” He picks at the rough skin around his fingernails. When he looks at me, his insecurity shines through his eyes.

So this is why we’re talking about Noah: Hardin’s low self-esteem has once again taken his thoughts there, to that place where he compares himself to whatever or whomever he thinks that I need.

“No.”

“Why not?” I reach for his hand to comfort the childlike worry inside of him.

“Because I shouldn’t have to choose at all, and he always knew about my plans and dreams, so I wouldn’t have had to choose.”

“I don’t have anything in Seattle.” He sighs.

“Me . . . you’d have me.”

“That’s not enough.”

Oh . . . I turn away from him.

“I know that’s fucked up, but it’s true. I have nothing there, and you’ll have this new job, and you’ll make new friends—”

“You’d have a new job, too. Christian said he’d give you a job—and we would make new friends together.”

“I don’t want to work for him—and the people you’d choose as friends are more than likely not going to be the same people I would choose. It would just be so different out there.”

“You don’t know that. I’m friends with Steph.”

“Only because you were roommates. I don’t want to move there, Tessa, especially now that I’ve been expelled. It makes more sense for me to just go back to England and finish university there.”

“This shouldn’t only be about what makes sense for you.”

“Considering that you went behind my back and saw Zed yet again, you aren’t exactly in any position to be calling the shots.”

“Really? Because you and I haven’t even established that we’re together again. I agreed to move back in, and you agreed to treat me better.” I stand up from the bed and begin to pace across the concrete floor. “But you went behind my back and beat him up, resulting in your expulsion—so if anyone isn’t in a position to call the shots, it’s you.”

“You were hiding this from me!” He raises voice. “You’ve been planning to leave me and didn’t tell me!”

“I know! I’m sorry for that, but instead of arguing over who’s the most wrong here, why don’t we try to fix it or come to some sort of compromise?”

“You . . .” He stops and stands up from the bed. “You don’t . . .”

“What?” I press.

“I don’t know, I can’t even think straight because of how mad I am at you.”

“I’m sorry for you finding out that way, but I don’t know what else to say.”

“Say that you won’t go.”

“I’m not making that choice right now. I shouldn’t have to.”

“When then? I won’t wait around—”

“What are you going to do, then—leave? What happened to ‘I never wish to be parted from you from this day on’?”

“Really? You’re going to bring that up? You don’t think an ideal time to bring up Seattle would be before I got a fucking tattoo for you? The irony isn’t lost on me.” He steps closer to me, challenging me.

“I was going to!”

“But you didn’t.”

“How many times are you going to mention that? We can go back and forth all day, but I really don’t have the energy. I’m over it,” I say.

“Over it? You’re over it?” He half laughs.

“Yes, over it.” It’s true, I’m over fighting with him about Seattle. It’s suffocating and frustrating, and I’ve had just about enough.

He grabs a black sweatshirt from the closet and pulls it over his head before slipping his boots onto his feet.

“Where are you going?” I demand.

“Away from here,” he huffs.

“Hardin, you don’t have to leave,” I call as he opens the door, but he ignores me.

If my father wasn’t in the living room, I’d chase after him and force him to stay.

But honestly, I’m tired of chasing him.

chapter

seven

HARDIN

Tessa’s father is awake now, sitting on the couch with his arms crossed in front of his chest and staring blankly out the window.

“Do you need a ride somewhere?” I ask him. I’m not thrilled with the idea of taking him anywhere, but I sure as hell despise the idea of leaving him alone with her.

He snaps his head my direction as if startled. “Um, yeah, is that okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I quickly answer.

“Okay, I just want to say goodbye to Tessie.” He looks toward our bedroom.

“Fine. I’ll be in the car.”

I head out the door, unsure of exactly where I’m going after I drop the old fool off, but I know it’s not good for either of us if I stay here. I’m so angry with myself. I know she’s not the only one to blame here, but I’m used to lashing out at people, and she’s always with me, making her an easy target. Which makes me a pathetic motherfucker, I know. I keep my eyes trained on the entrance to our apartment building, waiting for Richard. If he doesn’t come soon, I’ll leave his ass here. But then I sigh at the thought, since I really don’t want to leave him here with her.

At last, the Father of the Year steps through the door and pulls down the sleeves of his shirt. I had expected him to wear the clothes of mine that Tessa gave him, but he’s dressed in his clothes from yesterday, only now they’re clean. Damn Tessa, she’s too fucking nice.

I turn the volume up on the radio as he opens the passenger door, hoping that the music will halt any conversation he might try to make.

No luck. “She said to tell you to be careful,” he says as soon as he gets in, then buckles his seat belt like he’s trying to show me how to do it. Like he’s some airline hostess. I give him a small nod and pull onto the street.

“How did your meeting go today?” he asks.

“Really?” I raise my brow at him.

“Just wondering.” He taps his fingers on his leg. “I’m glad she went with you.”

“Okay.”

“She seems to be a lot like her mother.”

I shoot a look at him. “The hell she is. She’s nothing like that woman.” Is he trying to get himself thrown out onto the highway?

He laughs. “The good qualities only, of course. She’s very headstrong, just like Carol. She wants what she wants, but Tessie is much sweeter, gentler.”

Here we go with the Tessie bullshit again.

“I heard the two of you fighting. It woke me up.”

I roll my eyes. “Excuse us for waking you up at noon while you were sleeping on our couch.”

Again, I’m met with a chuckle. “I get it, man—you’re angry at the world. I was, too. Hell, I still am. But when you find someone who’s willing to put up with your shit, you don’t have to be so angry anymore.”

Well, old-timer, what do you suggest I do when your daughter is the one making me so goddamn angry? “Look, I’ll admit you aren’t as bad as I thought you were, but I didn’t ask for your advice, so don’t waste your time giving it to me.”

“I’m not giving you advice, I’m speaking from experience here. I’d hate to see the two of you end things.”

We aren’t ending things, Dick. I’m just trying to get my point across. I want to be with her, and I will be; she just needs to give in and come with me. I’m beyond fucking angry that she’d bring Zed into this shit again, regardless of her reasoning.

I turn the damn radio off. “You don’t even know me—or her, for that matter. Why would you care?”

“Because I know you’re good for her.”

“Do you?” I reply, sarcasm in full bloom. Thankfully we’re getting closer to his side of town, so this horrid conversation will be ending soon.

“Yes, I do.”

Then it strikes me, and I’ll never admit it to anyone, but it’s actually sort of nice to have someone say I’m good for her, even if it’s her drunk asshole of a father. I’ll take it.

“Are you going to be seeing her again?” I ask, and then quickly add, “And where exactly am I taking you?”

“Just drop me near the shop where we met yesterday; I’ll figure it out from there. And yes, I hope to be seeing her again. I have a lot of shit to make up for.”

“Yeah, you do,” I agree.

The parking lot next to the tattoo parlor is empty, which makes some sense, since it’s not even one in the afternoon yet.

“Can you drive me to the end of this street?” he asks.

I nod and pass the shop. The only thing at the end of this street is a bar and a run-down Laundromat.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Yep.”

“Do you want to come inside?” Richard asks, nodding toward the small bar.

Getting a drink with Tessa’s homeless drunk father doesn’t sound like the most intelligent thing to do at the moment.

However, I’m not known for making good decisions. “Fuck it,” I mumble and turn the car off and follow him inside. It’s not like I had anywhere in mind to go anyway.

The bar is dark and smells like mold and whiskey. Following him to the small counter, I grab a stool, leaving an empty seat between us. A middle-aged woman wearing what I pray are her teenage daughter’s clothes walks toward us. Without a word she slides Richard a small glass filled with whiskey and ice.

“And for you?” she asks me, her voice raspy and deeper than mine.

“Same as him.”

Tessa’s voice warning me not to do this is clear as a bell between my ears. I push it away, push her away.

I raise the glass, and we toast and each take a sip. “How can you afford to be a drunk if you don’t work?” I ask.

“I clean the place every other day, so I drink for free.” Shame is clear in his voice.

“Why not be sober and get paid, then?”

“I don’t know; I tried and tried.” He stares at his glass with hooded eyes, and for a second they resemble mine. I can see a shadow of myself in them. “I’m hoping now it’ll get easier if I can see my daughter more often.”

I nod, not even bothering to hit him with a snide remark, and instead wrap my fingers around the cool glass. I welcome the familiar burn of scotch as I tip my head back and finish the rest. When I push it across the semipolished bar top, the woman makes eye contact and then starts pouring me another.