After (After 1)

“Good. Just wipe the flour off your face first.”

He laughs and I gently push his arm. I stay a little while longer to hang out with Landon; I don’t want him to think I was just using him for a roundabout ride to the party, even though I know he doesn’t think that.

“GOOD LUCK; CALL ME if you need me,” he says as I get out of the car in front of the frat house. After he drives away I think of the irony of my leaving my phone in my room to avoid worrying about Hardin, and yet here I am showing up at his house.

A group of scantily clad girls are standing in the yard, causing me to look down at my outfit: jeans and a cardigan. I barely have any makeup on and my hair is in a bun on top of my head. What the hell was I thinking coming here?

I swallow my anxiety and walk inside. I don’t see any familiar faces except Logan, who’s doing a body shot off a girl wearing only a bra and panties. I walk through the kitchen and someone hands me a red cup full of alcohol, which I put to my lips. If I am going to confront Hardin, I need alcohol. I push my way through the crowded living room to the couch that their group usually hangs out on. Between bodies and over shoulders, Molly’s pink hair comes into view . . .

And I feel sick as I notice she isn’t sitting on the couch, but on Hardin’s lap. His hand is on her thigh and she leans back against him, laughing among her friends like this is the most normal thing in the world.

How did I get myself in this situation with Hardin? I should have stayed away from him. I knew it then and I am slapped in the face with it now. I should just leave. I don’t belong here, and I don’t want to cry in front of these people again. I am sick of crying over Hardin, and I am done trying to make him something he isn’t. Every time I think I feel as low as I can, he does something else that makes me realize I previously had no idea of the real pain that unrequited feelings can cause. I watch as Molly puts her hand over Hardin’s; he moves his away, only to put it on her hip, giving her a playful squeeze and she giggles. I try to force myself to move, to back up, to run, to crawl, to do anything to get me out of here, but my eyes are locked on the boy I was falling for while his eyes are locked on her.

“Tessa!” someone calls. Hardin’s head snaps up and his green eyes meet mine. They are wide with shock, and Molly looks my way, then leans farther onto Hardin. His lips part as if he is going to say something, but he doesn’t.

Zed appears at my side and I finally force my eyes from Hardin’s. I try to muster a smile for him, but all of my energy is being used to prevent myself from bursting into tears.

“Do you want a drink?” Zed asks and I look down. I was holding a cup of beer, wasn’t I?

At my feet is my cup, the beer spilled across the carpet. I take a step away from it; I normally would clean it up and apologize, but right now I would rather just pretend it wasn’t mine. It’s so crowded in here, nobody will know.

I have two options: I can run out of here in tears and let Hardin know he got the best of me, or I can put on a brave face and act like I don’t care about him and the way he is still holding Molly on his lap.

I decide to go with option two.

“Yes, please. I’d love a drink,” I say, my voice strained.

Chapter fifty-nine

I follow Zed to the kitchen, mentally psyching myself up so I can get through this party. I wanted to go over and curse Hardin out, tell him to never speak to me again, slap him and rip Molly’s pink hair out of her head. However, he would probably just smirk the whole time, so instead I decide to gulp down the entire cherry vodka sour that Zed makes me and ask for another. Hardin has ruined too many of my nights, and I refuse to be that girl.

Zed makes me another sour, but when I hold my cup out again a couple of minutes later, he laughs and holds up his hands. “Whoa, slow down, killer. You already drank two!”

“It just tastes really good.” I laugh and lick the remaining cherry flavor off my lips.

“Well, let’s just take it slow on this one, yeah?”

When I agree, he mixes me up another one and then says, “I think we are about to play another round of Truth or Dare.”

What is with these guys and their annoying games of Truth or Dare? I thought people stopped playing those ridiculous games when they were in high school. The pain in my chest returns as my mind goes over all the things Hardin and Molly may have already been dared to do tonight.

“What did I miss during the last round?” I ask him with the best flirty smile I can manage. I probably look insane, but he smiles back, so it seems to work.

“Just some drunk people sucking face, the usual.” He shrugs. The lump in my throat rises but I swallow it back down with my drink. I give a fake laugh and continue to drink out of my cup as we make our way back to the others. Zed takes a seat on the floor diagonally from Hardin and Molly’s spot on the couch, and I sit down next to him, closer than I usually would, but that’s the point. Part of me had assumed Hardin would have gotten Molly off his lap by now, but he hasn’t. So I lean in a little closer yet to Zed.

Hardin’s eyes draw to slits, but I ignore him. Molly is still perched on his lap like the whore she is, and Steph gives me a sympathetic smile and glances toward Hardin. The vodka is beginning to take its effect as Nate’s turn comes around.

“Truth or dare?” Steph asks.

“Truth,” he answers, and she rolls her eyes.

“Pussy.” Her colorful language never ceases to surprise me. “Okay . . . Is it true that you pissed in Tristan’s closet last weekend?” she asks and they all start laughing except me. I have no clue what they are talking about.