After We Collided (After 2)
Chapter seventy-five
HARDIN
After watching Tessa sleep for a while, I gather her into my arms and carry her to our bedroom. She hugs on to my arms and rests her head against my chest. I gently lay her onto our bed and pull the covers up to her chest. I give her a soft kiss on the forehead and am about to turn and get myself ready for bed when she says something.
“Zed,” she mumbles.
Did she just . . . ? I stare at her, trying to replay the last three seconds in my mind. She didn’t say—
“Zed.” She smiles, rolling onto her stomach.
What the fuck?
Part of me wants to wake her up and demand to know why she would call his name—twice—in her sleep. The rest of me, the paranoid and fucking fed-up part of me, knows what she’d say. Tessa will tell me that I have nothing to worry about, that they’re only friends, that she loves me. Some of that may be true, but she just said his name.
Hearing that asshole’s name fall from her lips on top of fucking Landon and his certainty about his future—it’s too much. I’m not certain of anything, not in the way he is, and Tessa obviously isn’t sure about me either. Otherwise she wouldn’t be dreaming of Zed.
Grabbing paper and pen, I scribble out a note for her, leave it on the dresser, and head out into the night.
I TURN THE CAR toward the Canal Street Tavern. I don’t want to go there in case Nate and the group are still there, but there’s a place close by where I used to drink all the time. Gotta love the state of Washington and the dumb-asses that never ID college kids.
Tessa’s voice plays in my mind, warning me not to drink again after the last time, but I don’t give a shit. I need a drink. I hear Zed and Landon’s voices next. Why does everyone around me think their opinions matter to me?
I’m not moving to Seattle—Landon and his shit advice can fuck off. Just because he wants to follow his girlfriend around doesn’t mean that I want to. I can see it now: I pack my shit and move to Seattle with her, and two months later she decides she’s had enough of my shit and she leaves me. In Seattle, it’ll be her world, not mine, and I could be pushed out of it just as easily as I was brought in.
When I arrive at the bar, the music is low and there aren’t many people inside. A familiar blonde stands behind the bar and looks at me with surprise, and interest, in her eyes.
“Long time, no see, Hardin. Miss me?” She grins and licks her full lips, remembering our nights together, I’m sure.
“Yeah, now give me a drink,” I respond.
Chapter seventy-six
TESSA
When I wake up, Hardin isn’t in the bed. I assume he went for a coffee run or he’s in the shower, so I check the time on my phone and force myself out of bed. Despite not having gone out last night, I’m feeling pretty tired, so I don’t really make an effort with my appearance, just pulling on a WCU T-shirt and jeans. I’m tempted to wear yoga pants so I can tease Hardin when I see him, but I can’t find them anywhere. Knowing him, he probably hid them or put them somewhere so no other guys can see me in them.
I look in my top drawer again, and when I close it, a piece of paper falls from the dresser.
Went out with my dad for breakfast, it says in Hardin’s handwriting. I’m equally confused and happy about this. I really hope Hardin and Ken can continue to build their relationship.
Figuring that they’re probably done, I try calling Hardin, but he doesn’t answer. I shoot him a text message and head out to meet Landon at the coffee shop.
When I get there, Landon is sitting at a table, and gestures to the two drinks in front of him. “I already got yours,” he says with a smile and lifts the paper cup to me.
“That was nice, thanks.” The sweet yet bitter taste of the coffee wakes me up the rest of the way, but then I start getting anxious that I haven’t heard back from Hardin.
“Look at us, looking like regular college students,” Landon jokes, pointing at my shirt and then at his, which is identical to mine. I laugh and take another drink of the blessed coffee.
“Hey, where’s Hardin today?” Landon grins. “He didn’t walk you to class this morning.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. He left me a note that he left early to have breakfast with his dad.”
Landon stops mid-drink and gives me a quizzical look. “Really?” Then after a moment, he nods and says, “Stranger things have happened, I guess.”
His response only makes my mind fill with doubt. Hardin did go to breakfast with his father. Didn’t he?
As Landon and I walk to class, and Hardin still hasn’t responded to my previous or recent texts, an ache in my chest grows.
When we take our seats, Landon looks at me and asks, “Are you okay?” and I’m about to respond when I look up to see Professor Soto entering the room.
“Morning, everyone! Sorry I’m late, I had a late night last night.” He smiles and shakes a leather jacket from his shoulders before throwing it across the back of his chair. “I hope everyone took the time to either purchase or steal a journal?”
Landon and I look at each other and pull out our journals. When I glance around, I see we’re two of the only people to do so, and once again I’m amazed at just how unprepared college students are.
But Professor Soto continues undeterred and absently straightens his tie. “If not, take out a blank piece of paper, because we’re going to use the first half of class to work on the first journal assignment. I haven’t decided how many there will be exactly, but like I said, the journal will make up the majority of your grade, so you need to put in at least a little effort.” He grins and sits, putting his feet on the desk. “I want to know your ideas on faith. What does it mean to you? There is literally no wrong answer here, and your personal religion doesn’t make a difference. You can take this in many different directions—do you yourself have faith in some higher power? Do you feel that faith can bring good things into people’s lives? Maybe you think of faith in a completely different way altogether—does having faith in something or someone change the outcome of a situation? If you have faith that your unfaithful lover will stop being unfaithful, does that make a difference at all? Does having faith in God . . . or a number of gods, make you any better of a person than someone who doesn’t? Take the topic of faith and do what you want with it . . . just do something,” he says.