After (After 1)

I can’t imagine how my mother would react to me leaving the country with Hardin. She would probably lock me in her attic and never let me out. I still haven’t spoken to her since she stormed out of my dorm after threatening me in an attempt to get me to stop seeing Hardin. I want to avoid that inevitable argument for as long as I can.

“What’s wrong?” he asks and dips his head down in front of my face.

“Nothing, sorry, I was just thinking of my mother.”

“Oh . . . she’ll come around, babe.” He sounds so sure, but I know her better than that.

“I don’t think so, but let’s talk about something else.”

We start talking about the wedding, but Hardin’s phone vibrates in his pocket after a moment. I shift off him so he can get it out, but he makes no move to do so.

“Whoever it is can wait,” he says, which makes me happy.

“Will we be staying at your dad’s house Saturday after the wedding?” I ask. I need to get my mind off my mother.

“Is that what you want to do?” he asks.

“Yeah, I like it there. This bed is tiny.” I crinkle my nose and he laughs.

“We could stay at my place more often. What about tonight?”

“I have my internship in the morning.”

“So? You can bring your stuff with you and get ready in an actual bathroom. I haven’t been to my room in a while; they are probably already trying to rent it out,” he jokes. “Don’t you want to take a shower without thirty other people in the same room?”

“Sold.” I smile and climb off the bed.

Hardin helps me pack my things for tomorrow and I grow more and more excited to go to the frat house. I hated that house, and still pretty much do, but the thought of a shower in an actual bathroom and Hardin’s large bed is too appealing to pass up. He grabs the red set of lingerie out of my dresser and hands it to me with a series of eager nods, and I flush before shoving it in my bag. I pack one of my old black skirts and a white blouse, wanting to space out my new dresses.

“Red bra with white shirt?” Hardin points out. I pull the white shirt out and grab a blue one instead.

“You could bring extra clothes with you so you won’t have to bring so much next time,” he suggests. He wants me to keep clothes at his place. I love how it’s a given that we will stay the night together every night.

“I guess I could,” I say and grab my new white dress and a few other random things.

“You know what would make it much easier?” he asks, and pulls my bag over his shoulder as we head outside.

“What?” I already know what he is going to say.

“If we both lived at the same place.” He smiles. “We wouldn’t have to decide which place to stay at and you wouldn’t have to pack a bag. You would have a private shower every day—well, not totally private.” He winks playfully. And just when I think he’s done, when we get to his car and he opens the door for me, he adds, “You could wake up and make your own coffee in our kitchen and get ready for the day and we could meet up at our place at the end of every day. None of this roommate or frat house shit.”

Every time he says “our” my stomach flutters. The more I think about it, the better it sounds. I am just terrified of moving too fast with Hardin. I don’t want it to blow up in my face.

As we drive to the house, he puts his hand on my thigh and again says, “Stop overthinking it.” I hear his phone vibrating again, but he ignores it. This time I can’t help but be a little suspicious of why he isn’t picking up the phone, but I push the thought from my head.

“What are you afraid of?” he asks when I don’t respond.

“I don’t know. What if something happens with my internship and I can’t afford it? Or if something happens with us?”

He frowns but recovers quickly. “Babe, I already told you I would pay for the place. It was my idea, and I make more, so let me do this.”

“I don’t care how much you make. I don’t like the idea of you paying for everything.”

“You can pay cable, then?” He smirks.

“Cable and groceries?” I offer. I can’t decide if I am speaking hypothetically anymore or not.

“Deal. Groceries . . . that sounds nice, doesn’t it? You could have my dinner ready every night when I get home.”

“Excuse me? It would be the other way around.” I laugh.

“We could rotate days?”

“Deal.”

“So you’re moving in with me then?” I don’t think I have ever seen a deeper grin on his perfect face.

“I didn’t say that, I was just . . .”

“You know I will take care of you, right? Always,” he promises.

I want to tell him that I don’t want to be taken care of, that I want to earn things and pay for my own share of things, but I get the feeling he isn’t talking just financially.

“I am afraid this is too good to be true,” I finally admit to Hardin and myself.

He surprises me by saying, “Me, too.”

“Really?” I am relieved that he feels the same way.

“Yeah, the thought crosses my mind all the time. You are too good for me and I am just waiting on you to realize it, and hoping that you don’t,” he says, his eyes focused on the road.

“That’s not going to happen.” And I mean it.

He doesn’t say anything.

“Okay.” I break the silence.

“Okay what?”

“Okay. I will move in with you.” I smile.