After (After 1)

Hardin still looks angry as he pulls out of the parking lot. He turns the screeching music up way too loud. I reach down and shut it off.

“Don’t touch my radio,” he scolds.

“If you’re going to be a jerk the whole time, I don’t want to hang out with you.” And I mean it. If he’s like this, I don’t care where we are, I’ll hitchhike back to the dorms or something.

“I’m not. Just don’t touch my radio.”

My thoughts go back to Hardin tossing my notes into the air, and in turn I want to yank his radio out and throw it out the window. If I knew I could tear it from the dash, I would.

“Why do you care if I go to the movies with Zed anyway? Steph and Tristan were going, too.”

“I just don’t think Zed has the best intentions,” he says quietly, his eyes glued to the road.

I begin to laugh and he frowns. “Oh, and you do? At least Zed is nice to me.” I can’t stop laughing. The idea of Hardin trying to protect me in some way is hilarious. Zed is a friend, nothing more. Just like Hardin.

Hardin rolls his eyes but doesn’t give me an answer. He turns the music back on and its guitars and bass literally hurt my ears.

“Can you please turn it down?” I beg.

To my surprise, he does, but leaves it on for background noise.

“That music is terrible.”

He laughs and taps the steering wheel. “No, it’s not. Though I would love to know your opinion on what is good music.” When he smiles like this, he looks so carefree, especially with his window down, the breeze blowing through his hair. He reaches one hand up and pushes his hair back. I love the way it looks when it’s back like that. I shake the thoughts from my head.

“Well, I like Bon Iver, and the Fray,” I finally answer.

“Of course you do,” he says, and chuckles.

I defend my two favorite bands. “What is wrong with them? They are insanely talented, and their music is wonderful.”

“Yeah . . . they are talented. Talented at putting people to sleep.”

When I reach across and playfully swat his shoulder, he mock winces and laughs.

“Well, I love them,” I say with a smile. If we could just stay in this playful state, I might actually have a good time. I look out the window for the first time, but I don’t really know where we are. “Where are we going?”

“To one of my favorite places.”

“Which is where?”

“You really have to know everything that is going on in advance, don’t you?”

“Yeah . . . I like to—”

“Control everything?”

I stay quiet. I know he’s right, but that’s just the way I am.

“Well, I’m not telling you until we get there . . . which will be only about five minutes from now.”

I lean back against the leather seat of his car and turn my head to glance at the backseat. A messy stack of textbooks and loose papers rest on one side and a thick black sweatshirt rests on the other.

“See something that you like back there?” Hardin catches me by embarrassed surprise.

“What kind of car is this?” I ask. I need a distraction from both not knowing where we are going and him calling me out for being nosy.

“Ford Capri—a classic,” he boasts, obviously proud. He goes on to tell me all about it even though I have no idea what he is talking about. Still, I like to watch his lips as he talks, the way they move slowly as the words are even slower. After looking over at me a few times during the conversation, he pretty harshly says, “I don’t like to be stared at,” though he does smile a little after.

Chapter twenty-five

We start down a gravel road, and Hardin turns the music off so that the only noise is the little stones crunching beneath the tires. I suddenly realize we are out in the middle of nowhere. I get nervous now; we are alone, really alone. There are no cars, no buildings, nothing.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t bring you out here to kill you,” he jokes and I gulp. I doubt he realizes that I’m more afraid of what I might do when alone with him than if he was to actually try to kill me.

After another mile he stops the car. I look out the window and see nothing but grass and trees. There are yellow wildflowers across the landscape and the breeze is perfectly warm. Granted, the place is nice and serene. But why bring me here?

“What are we going to do here?” I ask him as I climb out of the car.

“Well, first, a bit of walking.”

I sigh. So he took me here to exercise?

Noticing my sour expression, he adds, “Not too much walking,” and begins along a part of the grass that looks flattened from being used a number of times.

We’re both quiet for most of the walk, save a few rude snips from Hardin about me being too slow. I ignore him and take in my surroundings. I am beginning to understand why he likes this seemingly random place. It’s so quiet. Peaceful. I could stay here forever as long as I brought a book with me. He turns off the trail and goes into a wooded area. My natural suspiciousness kicks in, but I follow. A few minutes later we emerge from the woods to a stream, or really more of a river. I have no idea where we are but the water looks pretty deep.

Hardin doesn’t say anything as he pulls his black T-shirt over his head. My eyes scan his inked torso. The way the empty branches of the dead tree are drawn into his skin is more appealing than haunting under the bright sun. He then bends down to untie his dirty black boots, glancing up at me, catching me staring at his half-naked body.

“Wait, why are you undressing?” I ask and look at the stream. Oh no. “You are going to swim? In that?” I say and point to the water.