Chapter Six
ICAN’T TELL IF I’M a slob or not. I wear sweatpants a lot, but mostly because they’re comfortable. If I were a woman, I could never wear heels and tight dresses. I would be like Tessa: yoga pants and tank tops all the time. I grab a blue T-shirt and gray sweatpants and decide to shelve the issue for later thought.
When I return to the living room, Hardin is sitting on the couch, his laptop open and a pen held between his teeth.
“Already working?” I ask. What the hell is he working on, anyway?
Sitting down on the chair, I watch him ruffle through a stack of papers on the table. A cup of coffee, half-empty, is sitting next to his shiny laptop. There’s a sticker—for a band, I assume—covering the Apple logo. I glance to my laptop on the edge of the coffee table and compare the two of them. His with a metal-band sticker, thorns and roses, and mine emblazoned with a HUFFLEPUFF FOR LIFE sticker. In my defense, mine is pretty damn cute, and also funny because I’m not a Hufflepuff. Some silly online quiz told me I was, so I tried to own it. I bought the sticker and everything, but deep down I know I’m a Gryffindor through and through.
“Yeah. It took you long enough to get dressed,” he complains.
Hardin complaining? Such a surprise.
I toss a pillow at him, and he grumbles something under his breath. “Where’s Tess?”
“Working. She’s staying busy while you’re here.”
He lets out a huff but otherwise stays quiet. I can see the pain haunting his green eyes. I can hear the quickness of his breathing at the mention of her.
“How busy? What time does she get home usually?” he asks.
I hesitate. I need to keep my feet on neutral ground here. “Tonight she’ll be home around two.”
Hardin closes his laptop and leans toward me as if he’s going to stand up. “Two? In the morning?”
“Yeah. She’s closing tonight. And working a double shift during the day.”
“Two in the morning is ridiculous. There’s no reason for her to be working until the fucking morning.” Hardin gathers the loose pages and shoves them back into his binder.
“I can’t control how much she works. Neither can you.”
He sighs and nods, clearly not wanting an argument. “So, what’s up with you? Why was Delilah here looking like someone killed her puppy?”
Such grace Hardin Scott has, let me tell you. “Her dad’s dying.”
I watch his face fall slightly. “Oh, my bad.”
I shake my head and lean back against the chair. My hair is messy under my fingertips. “She’s going back to Michigan and wants me to go. Monday.”
Hardin crosses one leg over his knee and brushes his hair back. He hasn’t gotten it cut since the last time I saw him. “What about Nora? Are you guys still hooking up?”
So he does know her name . . . “No. She stormed out of here about a week ago saying that I was too wrapped up in Dakota to see that she liked me. She hasn’t been here since.”
“So you have the clearance there. If she hasn’t been here or talked to you, you’re free to do what you want. If you feel guilty, ask yourself why.”
Okay: Why do I feel guilty? Nora got upset with me over something I couldn’t help. Would she have rather had me cheat on Dakota with her? I couldn’t pay attention to Nora’s feelings for me because first, in Washington, I was in love with Dakota, and then, since I’ve moved here, I’ve