After We Collided (After 2)

“You’re never honest.” I take another sip.

“Yes, I am. So they’re fucking?” He raises a brow.

I nearly choke on my breath from his question. “Don’t fucking go there. Have you seen them together?” I breathe in and out slowly.

“Nope, I don’t know anything about them.” Jace puts his joint in the ashtray. “I thought he was dating some high school chick.”

I stare at a pile of dirty laundry in the corner of the room. “So did I.”

“So she ditched you for Zed?”

“Don’t mock me, I’m not in the mood.”

“You came here asking questions. I’m not mocking you,” Jace sneers.

“I heard they were together on Friday, and I wanted to know who was there.”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t, though. Don’t you two live together or some shit?” He takes his wannabe-hipster glasses off and places them on the table.

“Yes. Why do you think I’m so pissed about this shit with Zed.”

“Well, you know how he’s after what you—”

“I know.” I hate Jace, I really do. And Zed. Couldn’t Tessa have chosen Trevor to move on with? Holy shit, I never thought I would consider her being with Trevor a positive.

I roll my eyes and fight the urge to knock Jace through his coffee table. This is getting me nowhere, none of this is—the drinking, the anger, none of it.

“You’re sure you don’t know shit, because if I find out you do, I will kill you. You know that, don’t you?” I threaten, meaning every word.

“Yes, dude, we all know how psychotic you are over this chick. Stop being such a dick.”

“I’m just warning you,” I tell him, and he rolls his eyes.

Why did I start hanging out with him in the first place? He’s a fucking slime ball, and I should have let our so-called friendship end with me beating his ass.

Jace gets up and does a slow stretch. “Well, man, I’m going to bed now. It’s four a.m. You can crash on the couch if you want.”

“No, I’m good,” I say and head for the door.

It’s four in the morning, and it’s cold outside, but I’ll never be able to sleep knowing she’s with Zed. At his apartment. What if he’s touching her? What if he spent this entire weekend touching her?

Would she fuck him to spite me?

No, I know her better than that. This is a girl who still blushes each time I slide her panties down her thighs. However, Zed can be pretty convincing, and he could have her drinking. I know she can’t handle alcohol—two drinks and she starts cursing like a sailor and trying to unfasten my belt.

Fuck, if he gets her drunk and touches her . . .

I make a U-turn right in the middle of the intersection and hope there are no cops around, especially since they’ll smell the beer on my breath.

Fuck this staying-away-from-her shit. I may have been a dick to her, and I have treated her like shit—but Zed is far worse than me. I love her more than he, or any other man, possibly could. I know what I had now. I know what the fuck I had to lose—and now that I’ve lost it, I need it back. He can’t have her, no one can. No one except me.

Goddammit. Why didn’t I just apologize to her at the party? That’s what I should have done. I should have dropped to my knees in front of everyone and begged for her to forgive me, and we could be in our bed together right now. Instead I argued with her, and accidentally knocked her over when I was so mad I couldn’t tell who was who.

Zed is a fucking prick. Who the fuck does he think he is, picking her up from that party? Is he serious?

My anger is getting the best of me again. I need to calm down before I get there. If I stay calm she’ll speak to me, I hope.

By the time I get to Zed’s door, it’s four thirty in the morning. I stop and stand still for a few minutes in an attempt to calm myself down. Finally, I knock and wait impatiently.

Just as I’m about to turn my knocking into pounding, the door swings open, revealing Tyler, Zed’s roommate, who I’ve spoken to a few times when they had parties here.

“Scott? What’s up, man?” he slurs.

“Where’s Zed?” I push past him, not wasting any time.

He rubs his eyes. “Dude, you know it’s like five in the morning, right?”

“Nope, only four thirty. Where . . .” But then I notice the folded-up blanket on the couch. Neatly folded: a Tessa indicator. It takes a moment for my brain to connect to the fact that the couch is empty.

Where is she if she’s not on the couch?

Bile rises in my throat, and I lose the ability to breathe for the hundredth time tonight. I storm across the apartment, leaving a confused Tyler in my wake.

When I open Zed’s bedroom, it’s dark, near pitch black. I pull my phone from my pocket and switch on its flashlight. Tessa’s blond hair is sprawled out on the pillow under her, and Zed is shirtless.

Oh my fucking God.

When I find the light switch and flip it on, Tessa stirs and rolls over onto her side. My boot hits the edge of a desk with a loud thud. She scrunches her eyes shut and then opens them slightly to find the source of disruption.

I try to think of what to say as I process the scene in front of me. Tess and Zed in bed, together.

“Hardin?” she whines, and a frown takes over as she appears to wake up. She looks over to Zed before she looks up at me, clearly shocked. “What . . . what are you doing here?” she asks frantically.

“No, no. What are you doing here! In bed with him?” I try my best not to shout, my fingernails digging into my palm.