“I just wish you’d have told me what classes you were taking.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know . . . maybe I could’ve taken one with you instead of just you and Landon signing up together and becoming eternal study buddies.”
“You’ve already taken French and American Lit, and I didn’t think you’d be interested in World Religion.”
“I’m not,” he huffs.
I know this conversation isn’t going to go anywhere, so when I see the big V on the Vance Building, I’m grateful. The snow has slowed, but Hardin pulls up close to the front door to minimize my exposure to the cold.
“I’ll be here to get you at four,” he says, and I nod before leaning across the small space to kiss him goodbye.
“Thank you for driving me,” I whisper against his lips, touching them once more.
“Mm-hmm . . .” he mumbles, and I pull away.
When I step out of the car, Trevor appears only a few feet away, his black suit speckled with white snow. My stomach churns as he gives me a warm smile.
“Hey, long time no—”
“Tess!” Hardin calls my name and shuts the car door to walk around to my side. Trevor’s eyes go to Hardin, then back to me, and his smile disappears. “You forgot something . . .” Hardin says, handing me a pen.
A pen? I raise my eyebrow.
He nods and wraps his arms around my waist, pressing his lips forcefully against mine. If we weren’t in a parking lot—and I didn’t feel like this was his sick way of marking his territory—I would melt under the aggressive manner with which his tongue parts my lips. When I pull away, his face holds a smug expression. I shiver and rub my hands over my arms. I should have worn a heavier jacket.
“Nice to see you. Trenton, was it?” Hardin says with false sincerity.
I know damn well he knows his name. He’s so rude.
“Uh . . . yeah. Nice to see you, too,” Trevor mumbles and disappears through the sliding doors.
“What the hell was that?” I scowl at Hardin.
“What?” He smirks.
I groan. “You’re such a pig.”
“Stay away from him, Tess. Please,” Hardin commands, kissing me on the forehead to soften his harsh words.
I roll my eyes and stomp inside the building like a child.
“How was your Christmas?” Kimberly asks as I grab a donut and coffee. I probably shouldn’t drink another cup, but Hardin’s caveman act has annoyed me, and the smell of the coffee beans alone calms me.
“It . . .”
Oh, you know, I took Hardin back, then found out he made sex tapes with multiple girls, ruining one of their lives, but then I took him back again. My mother showed up at my apartment and caused a scene, so now she and I aren’t speaking. Hardin’s mother was in town, so we had to pretend we were together, even though we weren’t, which basically brought us back together, and it was smooth sailing until my mother told his mother about him taking my virginity for a bet. Oh, and Christmas? To commemorate that holiday, Hardin beat the shit out of his dad and punched his hand through a glass cabinet. You know, the usual.
“. . . was great. How was yours?” I say, going with the short version.
Kimberly dives into her amazing Christmas with Christian and his son. The little boy cried when he saw the new bicycle that “Santa” brought him. He had even called Kimberly “Mommy Kim,” which made her heart warm, but made her slightly uncomfortable at the same time. “It’s strange, you know,” she says. “Thinking of myself as someone’s guardian or whatever I am. I’m not married, not even engaged, to Christian, so I don’t know my place with Smith.”
“I think Smith and Christian are both lucky to have you in their lives, whatever title you may have,” I assure her.
“You’re wise beyond your years, Ms. Young.”
She smiles, and I rush to my office after glancing at the clock. By the time lunch comes around, Kimberly’s not at her desk. When the elevator stops at the third floor, I silently scream as Trevor steps into it.
“Hey,” I say, my voice small.
I don’t know why this is so uncomfortable. It’s not like I was dating Trevor or anything. We went on one date and I had a nice time. I enjoy his company and he enjoys mine. That is all.
“How was your break?” he asks, his blue eyes shining under the fluorescent lighting.
I wish people would stop asking me that today. “Nice. Yours?”
“It was nice—had a huge turnout at the shelter downtown, fed over three hundred people.” He beams proudly.
“Wow, three hundred people? That’s incredible.” I smile. He’s so kind, and the tension between us is somewhat diminished.
“It was really great; hopefully next year we’ll have even more resources and we can feed five hundred.” As we both step off the elevator he asks, “Are you going to lunch?”
“Yeah, I was going to walk over to Firehouse, since I didn’t drive myself,” I say, not wanting to discuss Hardin and me at the moment.
“You can ride with me if you want. I’m going to Panera, but I can run you by Firehouse first. You shouldn’t walk in the snow,” he offers politely.
“You know? Panera’s good. I’ll just come with.” I smile, and we head to his car.
The heated seats in his BMW warm me up before we’re even out of the parking lot. At the eatery, Trevor and I stay mostly silent while we order our lunch and sit down at a small table toward the back.
“I’m thinking about moving to Seattle,” Trevor tells me as I dip a cracker into my broccoli soup.