After We Collided (The After Series) (57 page)

“Yes, of course.” Zed drapes his jacket over her shoulders and opens the passenger seat of his truck for her and helps her inside.

“Tessa . . .” I call again, but she doesn’t acknowledge me as she buries her face in her hands and her body is racked with sobs.

I point a finger at Zed and threaten, “This isn’t over.”

He nods and goes around to the driver’s side before looking at me again. “I think it is, actually.” He smirks and climbs inside his truck.

I
’m so sorry that he pushed you like that,” Zed tells me as I swipe the warm cloth across his busted cheek. The skin is cut and just won’t stop bleeding.

“No, it’s not your fault. I’m sorry you keep getting dragged into this.” I sigh and dip the cloth back into his sink.

He had offered to take me back to Landon’s instead of following our previous plan of seeing a movie, but I didn’t want to go back to Landon’s. I didn’t want Hardin to show up there and cause a scene

He’s probably there destroying Ken and Karen’s entire house right now. God, I hope not.

“It’s cool. I know how he is, I’m just glad he didn’t hurt you. Well, worse than he did.” He sighs.

“I’m going to apply pressure to this, so it may hurt,” I warn him.

He closes his eyes as I press the cloth to his skin. The cut is deep—it looks like it may scar, even. I hope not; Zed’s face is too perfect to have a scar like this, and I certainly don’t want to be the cause of it.

“Done,” I say, and he smiles despite the fact that his mouth is swollen as well.
Why am I always cleaning up wounds?

“Thank you.” He smiles again as I rinse off the bloodstained towel.

“I’ll send you a bill,” I tease.

“Are you sure you’re okay, though? You hit the ground pretty hard.”

“Yeah, I’m a little sore, but I’m fine.” The events from tonight took a drastic turn for the worse when Hardin followed me outside. I had a feeling he wasn’t too hurt by me leaving him, but I thought he would be more affected than he was. He said he was busy and that’s why he hadn’t called me. Even though I thought he wouldn’t care as much as I did, I thought he loved me enough to care a little. Instead, he acted as if nothing had even happened, as if we were friends having a casual conversation. That is, until he saw Zed and lost it. If anything, I thought seeing Trevor would anger him and he would try to start a fight in front of everyone, but he couldn’t have cared less. Which is kind of strange.

Regardless of how brokenhearted I am, I know Hardin wouldn’t hurt me purposely, but this is the second time something like this has happened. The first time I was quick to excuse his behavior. I was the one who convinced him to go to his father’s for Christmas, and he just couldn’t handle it. Tonight was his fault—he shouldn’t even have been there.

“Are you hungry?” Zed asks me as we leave his small bathroom for the living room.

“No, I already ate at the party,” I say; my voice is still hoarse from my excessive, embarrassing sobbing on the way to Zed’s apartment.

“Okay, we don’t have much anyway, but I could order you something if you want, so just let me know if you change your mind.”

“Thank you.” Zed is always so incredibly sweet to me.

“My roommate will be here in a little while, but he won’t bother us. He’ll probably crash as soon as he gets in.”

“I really am sorry that this keeps happening, Zed.”

“Don’t apologize. Like I said, I’m just glad I was there for you. Hardin seemed pretty angry when I got there.”

“We were already fighting.” I roll my eyes and take a seat on the couch, wincing from the soreness. “Go figure.”

All of my bruises and cuts from my automobile accident just healed, and now I’m going to have another, from Hardin. The back of my dress is dirty and ruined, and my shoes are scuffed down the sides. Hardin really does ruin everything that he comes in contact with.

“Do you need some clothes to sleep in?” Zed asks, handing me the old blanket I slept with a few nights ago.

I’m slightly apprehensive about borrowing Zed’s clothes. That’s something I share with Hardin, and I’ve never worn anyone else’s clothing.

“I think Molly has some stuff here . . . in my roommate’s room. I know that’s probably awkward . . .” He half smiles. “But I’m sure they’re better than sleeping in that dress.”

Molly is much thinner than me, and I almost laugh. “I can’t fit in her clothes, but thank you for thinking I could.”

Zed seems to be confused by my answer; his cluelessness is adorable. “Well, I have some clothes you can wear,” he offers, and I nod before I allow myself to overthink it. I can wear whoever’s stuff I want, Hardin doesn’t own me—he didn’t even care enough to try to explain himself to me.

Zed disappears into his bedroom and returns moments later with his hands full of clothing. “I grabbed a few different things, I don’t know what you like.” There’s something behind his tone that makes me think he’d really like to get to that stage with me. The one where you know what the other likes. The stage I’m at with Hardin.
Was
at. Whatever.

I grab a blue T-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. “I’m not picky.” I give him a thankful smile before I go into the bathroom to change.

To my horror, the plaid thing that I thought was pants is in fact a pair of boxers. Zed’s boxers. Oh God. I unzip my dress and pull the large T-shirt over my head before considering what to do about the boxers.

The shirt is smaller than Hardin’s shirts are; it barely hits the top of my thigh and it doesn’t smell like Hardin. Of course it doesn’t, it’s not Hardin’s. It smells like laundry soap with the smallest hint of cigarette smoke. The smell is nice somehow, though not as nice as the familiar scent of the boy that I miss.

I pull the boxers up my legs and look down. They aren’t too short. In fact, they’re sort of baggy, tighter than Hardin’s would be, but not too tight. I’ll just walk to the couch and cover myself with the blanket as fast as I can.

I’m incredibly embarrassed to be wearing them, but it would be even more embarrassing to make a big deal out of it after everything Zed has been through tonight because of me. His poor face holds the proof of Hardin’s anger, a big bloody reminder of why Hardin and I would never work. Hardin only cares for himself, and the only reason he lost it when he saw Zed is his pride. He doesn’t want me, but he doesn’t want me to be with anyone else either.

I leave my dress folded on the bathroom floor; it’s already dirty and ruined anyway. I’ll try the dry cleaners, but I’m not sure if it can be saved. I really loved that dress, too, and it cost me a decent amount of money—money that I sorely need once I find my own apartment.

I walk as fast as I can, but when I reach the living room, Zed is standing next to the television. His eyes go wide as they rake up and down my body. “I . . . uh, I was putting something . . . I was putting, trying to find a movie . . . to watch. Or something for you to watch, I mean,” he stammers, and I sit on the couch and pull the blanket over me.

His fumbled words and the look in his eyes make him appear younger and more vulnerable than usual.

He laughs nervously. “Sorry, I was trying to say I was turning the TV on so you could watch it.”

“Thank you,” I say and smile as he takes a seat on the other
end of the couch. He rests his elbows on his knees and stares forward.

“If you don’t want to keep hanging out with me, I understand,” I say to break the silence.

He turns to face me. “What? No, don’t think that.” His eyes pour into mine. “Don’t worry about me, I can handle it. A couple beatings aren’t going to make me stay away from you. The only thing that will is if you tell me to. You want me to, then I will. But until you tell me to go, I’m here.”

“I don’t. Want you to go, that is. I just don’t know what to do about Hardin. I don’t want him to hurt you, again,” I tell him.

“He’s a pretty violent guy. I know what to expect, I guess. Don’t worry about me, though. I just hope that after seeing who he really is tonight, you’ll distance yourself from him.”

Sadness creeps in at the thought, but I say, “I am, I definitely am. He doesn’t care anyway, so why should I?”

“You shouldn’t. You’re too good for him, anyway; you always have been,” he assures. I scoot closer to him on the couch, and he lifts my blanket and gets under it, too, before pressing a button to turn on the television. I love the ease between us; he doesn’t say things just for the single purpose of pissing me off, and he doesn’t hurt my feelings on purpose.

“Are you tired?” I ask him after a bit.

“Nah, you?”

“A little.”

“Go to sleep, then. I can go to my room.”

“No. Actually, you can stay out here until I fall asleep?” My tone is more asking than telling.

He looks at me, relief and happiness in his eyes. “Yeah, sure. I can do that.”

I
pound my fist onto the trunk of my car and scream to let out some of my anger.

How did that happen? How did I push her to the ground? He knew what was going to happen the moment he stepped out of that truck, and he ended up getting his ass beat again. I know Tessa—she’s going to pity him and blame herself for his ass-beating, and then she’s going to think she owes him something.

“Fuck!” I scream even louder.

“What are you yelling about?” Christian appears in the snowy driveway.

I look over at him and roll my eyes. “Nothing.” The only person that I will ever love just left with the person I despise the most in the world.

Vance looks at me with bemusement for a second. “Obviously something,” he quips and takes a big sip of his drink.

“I don’t really feel like having a fucking heart-to-heart right now,” I snap.

“Such a coincidence—neither do I. I’m just trying to figure out why there’s an asshole screaming in my driveway,” he says with a smile.

I nearly laugh at that. “Fuck off.”

“I take it she didn’t accept your apology?”

“Who says I gave an apology, or a reason to need one?”

“Because you’re you, and on top of that, you’re a man . . .” He
salutes me and downs the rest of what’s in his glass. “We always have to apologize first. It’s the way it is.”

Letting out a hard breath, I say, “Yeah, well, she doesn’t want my apology.”

“Every woman wants an apology.”

I can’t get the image of her looking to Zed for comfort out of my mind. “Not mine . . . not her.”

“Fine, fine, fine,” Christian says, flapping his hands down. “Are you coming back inside?”

“No . . . I don’t know.” I shake the snow from my hair and push it back off my forehead.

“Ken . . . your dad and Karen are getting ready to leave.”

“And I give a shit . . . why?” I reply, and he chuckles.

“Your language never ceases to surprise me.”

I give him a grin. “What? You curse just as much as I do.”

“Exactly.” He puts his arm around my shoulders. And I surprise myself by letting him lead me back inside.

I
can’t sleep. I’ve been waking up every thirty minutes to check my phone to see if Hardin’s tried to contact me. Of course there’s nothing. I check my alarm again. I have classes tomorrow, so Zed’s going to take me back to Landon’s early enough to get ready and get to school on time.

When I try to close my eyes again, my mind races, remembering the way the dream Hardin pleaded with me to come home. Hearing it, dream or not, still kills me. After tossing and turning on the small couch, I decide to do what I should have done at the beginning of the night.

When I push Zed’s bedroom door open, I immediately hear his light snoring. He’s shirtless and lying on his stomach, with his arms folded under his head.

I’m waging an internal war with myself as he stirs in his sleep. “Tessa?” He sits up. “Are you okay?” He sounds panicked.

“Yeah . . . I’m sorry for waking you up . . . I was just wondering if maybe I could sleep in here?” I ask timidly.

He looks at me for a second before saying, “Yeah, of course.” Shifting his body a little, he makes sure there is plenty of room for me to lie down.

I try to ignore the fact that his bed doesn’t have a sheet on it. He’s a college boy, after all; not everyone is as neat as I am. He slides a pillow across the mattress, and I lie down next to him, the distance between us being less than a foot.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” he asks.

Do I?
I wonder. But I say, “No, not tonight. I can’t make out the mess that is inside of my head.”

“Is there anything I can do?” His voice is so soft in the darkness.

“Scoot closer?” I request, and he does just that.

I’m nervous as I turn on my side to face him. His hand moves up to my cheek, and he rubs his thumb back and forth. His touch is warm and gentle. “I’m glad you’re here with me, and not him,” Zed whispers.

“Me, too,” I respond, having no clue if I mean it or not.

L
andon’s developed quite the attitude since the night he attempted to assault me. He threw a tantrum at the airport when he saw me standing at the baggage claim and realized I was here to pick him up instead of his mum. Karen had agreed to allow me to pick her son up, maybe because she didn’t want to go out after Vance’s party, or maybe because she pities me. I’m not sure either way, but I’m glad she did.

For his part, Landon is flat-out annoyed, claiming that I’m the biggest asshole he’s ever met, and refusing to get into the car with me at first. It took me nearly twenty minutes to convince my lovely stepbrother that riding with me had to be better than walking thirty miles in the middle of the night.

After a few miles of driving in silence, I pick up the conversation where we agreed to let it die back in the terminal. “Well, I’m here, Landon, and I need you to tell me what I should do. I’m split. Right down the fucking middle.”

“Between what and what?” he asks.