After (After 1)

“What was that?” I hear Molly ask Hardin. She should really work on her whispering voice.

“Nothing, she doesn’t like ketchup,” he simply says and she huffs before taking a drink of her beer.

“So?” Molly says and Hardin glares at her.

“So, nothing. Just drop it.”

At least I know I am not the only one he is rude to.

My new food sans ketchup arrives, and I eat most of it despite my lack of appetite. Zed ends up paying for my meal, which is both nice and awkward at the same time. Hardin’s annoyance seems to grow as Zed puts his arm around me yet again on the walk outside.

“Logan says the party is already packed!” Nate says, reading a text.

“You should ride with me there,” Zed offers, then frowns when I shake my head.

“Oh, I am not going to the party. Tristan is going to take me back.”

“I can take her back to her room since I drove,” Hardin says.

I almost trip over my feet at this, but fortunately Steph grabs hold of me and smiles at Hardin. “No, Tristan and I will take her. Zed can ride with us, too.”

If looks could kill, Steph would be collapsing on the floor right now.

Hardin turns to Tristan. “You don’t want to drive drunk on campus; the police are going to be looking for people to give tickets to because it’s Friday.”

Steph looks at me, waiting for me to speak up, but I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to be in the car with Hardin alone, but I don’t want to drive with Tristan when he has been drinking. I shrug and lean into Zed while they settle this among themselves.

“Great, let’s drop her off and then go have some fun,” Molly tells Hardin, but he shakes his head.

“No, you ride with Tristan and Steph,” he says forcefully and Molly shrinks.

“For God’s sake can we just get in the cars and go!” Nate whines and pulls his keys out.

“Yeah, let’s go, Tessa,” Hardin says and I look up at Zed and then at Steph.

“Tessa!” Hardin barks again as he unlocks his car door. He looks back at me and I get the feeling that if I don’t follow he will drag me to the car. But why would he even want to be around me if he told Steph that I had better not come around? He disappears inside the car and starts the engine.

“It’ll be okay, just text me as soon as you get back to the room,” Steph says, and I nod and walk to Hardin’s car. My curiosity gets the best of me, and I have to know what his intentions are. I just have to.

Chapter forty

No matter how hard I tried to avoid seeing him all week, I somehow end up in his car with him. He doesn’t look at me as I get in or while I buckle my seat belt. I tug at the dress again, trying to pull it over my thighs. We sit in silence for a moment and then he pulls out of the parking lot. One saving grace is his not allowing Molly to ride with us—I would have rather walked home than watch her fawn all over him.

“What’s with the new look?” he finally asks once we’re on the freeway.

“Um . . . well, Steph wanted to try something new with me, I guess.” I keep my eyes fixed on the buildings passing by outside the window. His usual aggressive music is playing quietly through the car.

“It’s a little over-the-top, don’t you think?” he asks and I ball my fists on my lap. So this is his plan today, to insult me the whole way back to my room.

“You didn’t have to drive me home, you know.” I lean my head against the window, trying to create as much space between us as possible.

“Don’t get so defensive; all I am saying is your little makeover is a little extreme.”

“Well, good thing I don’t care what you think, but considering your distaste for my usual appearance, I’m surprised you don’t think I look better like this,” I snap and close my eyes. I am already exhausted from being around him and he is sucking the little bit of energy that remained from me.

I hear him chuckle quietly and he turns the radio off completely. “I never said there was anything wrong with your appearance. Your clothes, yes, but I’d much rather see the hideous long skirts than these clothes.”

He’s trying to explain but his answer doesn’t really make sense. He seems to like when Molly dresses this way, only much skankier, so why not me?

“Did you hear me, Tessa?” he asks when I don’t respond, and I feel his hand touch my thigh. I jerk away from his touch and open my eyes.

“Yes, I did. I just don’t have anything to say about it. If you don’t like the way I’m dressed, then don’t look at me.” One good thing that comes from talking to Hardin is that for once in my life I can say exactly what comes to my mind without worrying about hurting his feelings, seeing as how he has none.

“That is precisely the problem here, isn’t it? That I can’t stop looking at you.” The words leave his mouth and I consider opening the car door and hurling myself onto the freeway.

“Oh! Please!” I laugh. I know he will say just enough nice, yet cryptic, things to make it more painful when he takes them back and throws more insults at me later.

“What? It’s true. I approve of the new clothes, but you don’t need all this makeup. Regular girls wear tons of makeup to look as good as you do without it.”

What? He must have forgotten that we aren’t speaking, that he tried to ruin my life less than a week ago, and that we despise each other.

“You don’t expect me to thank you, do you?” I half-laugh. He is so confusing; he is brooding and angry one minute and telling me he can’t stop looking at me the next.