After (The After Series) (29 page)

“Hardin?” Karen’s voice calls from the hall as a delicate tapping hits the door, and I become extremely thankful we’re both dressed.

Hardin rolls his eyes and brings his lips to my ear. “Later,” he promises and walks to the door. He switches on the light before opening it, revealing Karen.

“I am so sorry for intruding, but I made some desserts as well, and thought maybe you two would like some?” she offers sweetly. Hardin doesn’t answer her but he looks back at me, waiting for my reply.

“Yes, that would be lovely,” I say with a smile and she grins back.

“Great! I will see you downstairs,” she tells us and turns to walk away.

“I’ve already had my dessert,” Hardin says mischievously, and I swat his arm.

K
aren has made lots of sweets for us to eat. I eat a few while she and I discuss her love for baking. Landon doesn’t join us in the dining room but it doesn’t seem to cause any suspicion. I look over to where he just sits on the couch with his book on his lap and remind myself that I need to make sure I talk to him soon. I don’t want to lose his friendship.

“I love baking as well, I am just no good at it,” I tell Karen, and she laughs.

“I would love to teach you,” she says. Hope is evident in her brown eyes and I nod.

“That would be great.” I don’t have the heart to say no. I feel for her; she is really trying to make an effort to get to know me. She believes me to be Hardin’s girlfriend and I can’t tell her otherwise. Hardin has made no move to tell her or his father, either, which gives me a swell of hope. I wish this night was how my life could always be, enjoying spending time with Hardin, his eyes constantly meeting mine as I converse with his father and future stepmother. He is being nice, for the last hour at least, and his thumb rubs over my knuckles in a gentle gesture that gives me a constant string of butterflies. The rain continues to pour outside and the wind howls.

After we finish the desserts, Hardin gets up from the table. I look at him questionably and he leans down to whisper in my ear.

“Be right back, just going to the loo,” he says, and I watch him disappear down the hall.

“We both cannot thank you enough. It is so wonderful having Hardin here, even if it’s only one dinner,” Karen says and Ken takes her hand above the table.

“She’s right. It is wonderful, as his father, to see my only son in love. I had always worried he wouldn’t be capable . . . he was an . . . angry child,” Ken mutters and looks at me. He must notice how I shift uncomfortably in my seat, because he follows up with “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, we just love to see him happy.”

Happy? Love?
I choke on my breath and break into a heap of coughs; the cool water in my glass slides down my throat, calming it, and I look back at them. They think Hardin is in love with me? It would be incredibly rude to laugh at them, but he obviously doesn’t know his son.

Before I can respond, Hardin returns and I thank the heavens that I didn’t have to respond to their sweet, but false, assumptions. Hardin doesn’t sit down, but rather stands behind me with his hands on the back of the chair.

“We really should get going. I have to take Tessa back to the dorms,” he says.

“Oh, don’t be silly. You two should stay tonight. It’s storming outside and we have plenty of room. Right, Ken?”

Hardin’s father nods. “Of course, you’re both welcome to stay.”

Hardin looks at me. I want to stay. To extend my time with Hardin in what feels like a world away from the world, especially when he is in such a good mood.

“I don’t mind,” I answer. But I don’t want to upset him by wanting to stay here any longer. His eyes are unreadable, but he doesn’t seem to be angry.

“Great! Then it’s settled. I’ll show Tessa to a room . . . unless you’ll be staying with Hardin in his?” she asks. There is no judgment behind her voice, only kindness.

“No, I’d like my own room, please. If that’s okay?”

Hardin glares at me.

So he wanted me in his room with him?
The thought excites me, but I don’t feel comfortable with them knowing Hardin and I are at that point yet. My snarky subconscious reminds me that we aren’t dating at all, or even close to it, so being at a “point” isn’t possible. That I have a boyfriend who is not Hardin. I ignore her as usual and follow Karen upstairs. I wonder why she’s sending us straight to bed, but I’m not comfortable enough to ask.

She shows me to a room directly across from Hardin’s. It isn’t quite as large, but it’s decorated just as beautifully. The bed is a little smaller and sits on a white frame against the wall. There are pictures of boats and anchors scattered through the room. I thank her multiple times and she hugs me again before leaving me to my room.

I walk around the room and find myself at the window. The backyard is much bigger than I had thought; I had only seen the deck and the trees on the left side. On the right side there is a small building that looks like a greenhouse, but I can’t tell through the heavy rain.

As I stare at the rain, my thoughts begin to run wild. Today has been the best time I have ever had with Hardin, despite his multiple outbursts. He has held my hand, which he never does; he put his hand on my back as we walked, and he did his best to comfort me when I was worried about Landon. This is the furthest we have gone in our . . . friendship, or whatever this is. That’s the confusing part: I know we can’t and never will actually date, but maybe whatever we are doing now will be good enough? I have never imagined being someone’s friend with benefits, but I know I won’t be able to stay away from him. I have tried many times now, and it never works.

A light knock on the door brings me out of my thoughts. I expect to see Karen or Hardin, but instead I find Landon when I
open the door. His hands are in his pockets, and his handsome face holds a small, awkward smile.

“Hey,” he says and I smile.

“Hey, do you want to come in?” I ask him, and he nods.

I walk over and sit on the bed; he pulls the chair out from the small table in the corner and takes a seat.

“I—” we both say at the same time and laugh.

“You first,” he suggests.

“Okay, I am so sorry that you found out about Hardin and me that way. I didn’t go out there with that intention. I was just making sure he was okay; this whole dinner with his father was really getting to him and somehow we just ended up . . . kissing. I know how terrible it is of me, and I know I am horrible for cheating on Noah, but I am just so confused, and I tried to stay away from Hardin. I really did.”

“I’m not judging you, Tessa. I was just surprised to see you two making out on the deck. I thought when I walked out I would find you yelling at each other.” He laughs and continues. “I knew something was up with you two when you had that fight in the middle of Literature and then when you stayed last weekend, and then when he came back and started a fight with me. The signs were all there, but I thought you would tell me, though I do understand why you didn’t.”

I feel a huge weight lift off my shoulders. “You’re not mad at me? Or think any different of me?” I ask him and he shakes his head.

“No, of course not. I
am
worried about you and Hardin, though. I don’t want him to hurt you, and I believe he will. I am sorry for saying that, but as your friend I need you to know that he will.”

I want to get defensive and even angry, but part of me knows he is right. I just hope somehow he isn’t.

“So what are you going to do about Noah?”

I groan. “I have no idea. I am afraid that if I break up with him I will regret it, but what I am doing to him isn’t fair. I just need a little time to decide what to do.”

He nods.

“Landon, I’m so relieved that you aren’t mad at me. I was being a jerk earlier. I just didn’t know what to say. I am sorry.”

“Me, too, I completely understand.” We both stand up and he hugs me. A warm and comforting hug as the door opens.

“Um . . . am I interrupting something?” Hardin’s voice travels through the room.

“No, come in,” I tell him and he rolls his eyes. I hope he is still in a decent mood.

“I brought you some clothes to sleep in,” he tells me. He places a small pile on the bed and goes to walk out.

“Thank you, but you can stay.” I don’t want him to leave.

He looks at Landon and snaps, “No, I’m good,” before leaving the room.

“He is so moody!” I whine and plop down on the bed.

Landon chuckles and sits back down. “Yeah,
moody
is one word for it.”

We both burst into laughter and then Landon begins to talk about Dakota and how he can’t wait for her to come visit next weekend. I almost forgot about the bonfire. Noah is coming. Maybe I should tell him not to. What if this change between Hardin and me is all in my head? I feel like something has changed between us today, and he did tell me he wants me more than he has ever wanted anyone. But he didn’t exactly say he has feelings for me, only that he wants me. After an hour of Landon and I talking about everything from Tolstoy to the Seattle skyline, he tells me good night and retreats to his room, leaving me alone to my thoughts and the sound of the rain.

I
pick up the clothes Hardin brought me to wear: one of his signature black T-shirts, a pair of red-and-gray plaid pants, and some large black socks. I laugh at the idea of Hardin actually wearing those, but then I realize these are likely from the dresser of unworn clothes. I lift the shirt up and it smells like him. He has worn this one, and recently. The smell is intoxicating, minty and indescribable, but it is my newly acquired favorite scent in the entire world. I change into the clothes, finding the pants much too big but very comfortable.

I lie down on the bed and pull the blanket up to my chest, my eyes fixated on the ceiling as I relive the whole day in my mind. I feel myself drifting off to sleep, to dream of green eyes and black T-shirts.

“NO!!”
Hardin’s voice jolts me awake.
Am I hearing things?

“Please!” he yells again. I jump out of bed and run across the hall. My hands find the cold metal of the doorknob to Hardin’s room and, thank God, it opens.

“NO! Please . . .” he yells again. I didn’t think this through; if someone is hurting him, I have no idea what I will do. I fumble around for the lamp and switch it on. Hardin is shirtless and tangled in the thick comforter, thrashing and tossing. Without thinking, I sit on the bed and reach for his shoulder. His skin is hot, too hot.

“Hardin!” I say quietly, trying to wake him. His head snaps to the side, and he whimpers but doesn’t wake.

“Hardin, wake up!” I cry and shake him harder while my body moves to sit astride his. Both of my hands go to his shoulders once more and I shake him again.

His eyes fly open; terror fills them for a brief moment before confusion, then relief. Beads of sweat cover his forehead.

“Tess,” he chokes. The way he says my name breaks my heart, then heals it. Within seconds he untangles his arms and brings them to my back, pushing me forward to lie on his chest. The wetness of his chest startles me, but I stay put. I can hear his heart beating, pumping rapidly against my cheek. Poor Hardin. I put both of my hands on his sides, hugging him. He strokes my hair as he repeats my name over and over, as if I am his talisman in the dark.

“Hardin, are you okay?” My words are lower than a whisper.

“No,” he confesses. His chest is rising and falling slower than it was, but his breathing is still shallow. I don’t want to push him to discuss what terror he has just dreamed.

I don’t ask him if he wants me to stay; somehow I know he does. When I lift up to turn the lamp off his body stills.

“I was going to switch the light off, or do you want it on?” I ask him. Once he realizes my intentions he relaxes, letting me reach farther to the lamp.

“Off, please,” he begs. Once the room returns to darkness, I lay my head back on his chest. I would imagine lying this way, straddling his body would be difficult, but it is comforting to him and me both. Hearing his heart beat under the hard surface of his chest is calming, more calming than the patter of the rain on the roof. I would do anything, give anything, to be able to spend every night with Hardin, to lie this way with him, to have his arms wrapped around me and his breathing slow in my ear.

I WAKE UP
to Hardin shifting below me. I am still lying on top of him, my knees astride him. I lift my head from where it rests on
his chest and encounter his dazzling green eyes. In the light of day I am not sure if I am wanted the way I was last night. I can’t read his expression, which leaves my nerves to take over. I move to climb off him, since my neck feels sore from sleeping on his hard chest, and I need to stretch my legs out anyway.

“Good morning.” He gives me a dimpled smile, soothing my fear.

“Good morning.”

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“My neck hurts,” I say, and he brings me to lie next to him, my back pressed against his front. He startles me by bringing his hand to my neck, causing me to jump. I recover quickly as his hand begins to rub my neck. My eyes close and I wince a little at his contact with the ache, but the pain slowly disappears as he massages.

He speaks before me. “Thank you.”

I turn my head to look at him. “For what?”
Maybe he is telling me to thank him for the neck rub?

“For . . . coming in here. For staying.” His cheeks flush and his eyes dart away from mine. He is embarrassed. Hardin embarrassed; he never ceases to amaze and confuse me.

“You don’t have to thank me. Do you want to talk about it?” I hope he does. I want to know what he dreams about.

“No,” he states plainly, and I nod. I want to push it further, but I know what will happen if I do.

“I will talk about how incredibly sexy you look wearing my shirt, though,” he coos in my ear. He nudges my head with his and brings his lips to my skin. My eyes close in response to his plump lips wrapping around my earlobe, gently tugging. I can feel him hardening against me, making me feel drowsy in an incredible way. This type of mood swing is one that I can enjoy.