After We Collided Read online

  I turn to face him. “I was doing just fine before you even came here. Trevor was here,” I say, because I know how mad it will make him.

  But he surprises me by laughing. “Oh, please, you and I both know Trevor isn’t enough for you. You wanted me, only me. You still do,” he scoffs.

  “I was drunk, Hardin! Why would I want you when I can have him?” I instantly regret the words.

  Hardin’s eyes flash with either pain or jealousy, and I take a step toward him.

  “Don’t,” he says, holding his arm out. “You know what—that’s fine. He can fucking have you! I don’t even know why I came here. I should have known you would act like this!”

  I try to keep my voice down before someone calls in a complaint, but I’m not sure I’m able to pull that off. “Are you kidding me? You come here and take advantage of me and have the nerve to insult me?”

  “Take advantage of you? You took advantage of me, Tessa! You know that I can’t say no to you—and you kept pushing and pushing!”

  I know he’s right, but now I’m pissed off and humiliated by my aggressive behavior last night. “It doesn’t matter who took advantage of who—all that matters is that you are leaving and not coming around me again,” I say with finality, then turn the blow dryer on to muffle his comeback. Within seconds, he’s ripped the blow-dryer cord—and nearly the outlet—from the wall.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” I yell and plug it back in. “You could have broken that!”

  Hardin’s so infuriating—what the hell was I thinking, calling him?

  “I’m not leaving until you talk to me about all of this,” he huffs.

  Ignoring the pain in my chest, I tell him, “I already told you, we have nothing to talk about. You hurt me, and I can’t forgive you. End of story.” As much as I try to fight it, deep down I love having him here. Even if we’re fighting and yelling at each other, I’ve missed him so much.

  “You haven’t even tried to forgive me,” he says, his voice much softer.

  “Yes, I have. I have tried mentally to get over this, but I can’t. I can’t trust that this isn’t still part of your game. I can’t trust you won’t hurt me again.”

  I plug my curling iron in and sigh. “I need to finish getting ready.”

  When I turn the blow dryer back on, he disappears from the bathroom, and I hope he leaves. The small part of me that hopes he’s sitting on the bed when I come out is an idiot. She isn’t the rational part of me. She’s the naive, ridiculous girl who fell in love with a boy who is the furthest thing from what she needs. Hardin and I will never work, I know that. I just wish she did, too.

  I curl and style my hair, making sure that it will cover Hardin’s mark on my neck. When I walk out of the bathroom to gather my clothes, Hardin is sitting on the bed, and that stupid girl rejoices a little. I grab my light red bra and panties out of my bag and slip them on without removing my towel. When I drop the towel, Hardin gasps, then tries to hide it with a cough.

  As I slip a dress over my head, I feel like I’m being pulled toward him by an invisible string, but I fight it and grab my white dress out of the closet. I feel strangely comfortable around him right now, considering our situation. Why is this all so confusing and consuming? Why does it have to be so complicated? And most importantly why can’t I just get over him and move on?

  “You really should go,” I say quietly.

  “Do you need help?” he asks when I struggle with zipping the dress.

  “No . . . I’m fine. I’ve got it.”

  “Here.” He stands up to walk over to me. We are walking this fine line between love and hate, anger and calm. It’s strange and surely toxic for me.

  I lift my hair, and he zips my dress, taking longer than he should. I feel my pulse quicken and scold myself for allowing him to help me.

  “How did you find me?” I ask him just as soon as the thought enters my mind.

  He shrugs like he didn’t just stalk me across the state. “I called Vance, of course.”

  “He gave you my room number?” I’m not pleased at the idea.

  “No, the front desk did.” He gives a little smirk. “I can be very persuasive.”

  That the hotel would do that doesn’t make me feel any better. “We can’t do this . . . you know, you making jokes and acting all friendly,” I say and step into my black heels.

  He grabs his pants and starts putting them on. “Why not?”

  “Because it’s not good for either of us to be around the other.”

  He smiles, those evil dimples coming out. “You know that’s not true,” he says casually and puts on his T-shirt.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “No.”

  “Will you please just go?” I beg.

  “You don’t mean that, I know you don’t. You knew what you were doing when you let me stay.”

  “No, I didn’t,” I whine. “I was intoxicated. I didn’t know what I was doing at all last night, from kissing that guy to letting you in.”

  Immediately, I snap my mouth shut. I did not just say that out loud. But by the way Hardin’s eyes pop and his jaw clenches, I know that I did. My headache multiplies by ten and I want to slap myself.

  “Wh-wh-what? What did you . . . what did you just say?” he growls.

  “Nothing . . . I . . .”

  “You kissed someone? Who?” he asks, his voice strained as if he just ran a marathon.

  “Someone at the club,” I admit.

  “Are you serious?” he breathes. And when I nod, he explodes. “What the—what the actual fuck, Tessa? You kiss some guy at a fucking club, then have sex with me? Who are you?” He runs his hands over his face. If I know him as well as I think I do, he’s getting ready to break something.

  “It just happened, and we aren’t even together.” I try to defend myself, but only make myself sound worse.

  “Wow . . . you are unbelievable. My Tessa would never kiss a fucking stranger at a club!” he barks.

  “There is no ‘your’ Tessa,” I tell him.

  He just shakes his head no over and over and over again. Finally he stares deep into my eyes and says, “You know what? You’re right. And just to let you know, while you were kissing that guy? I was fucking Molly.”

  chapter nineteen

  TESSA

  I was fucking Molly. I was fucking Molly. I was fucking Molly. I was fucking Molly. I was fucking Molly. I was fucking Molly. I was fucking Molly. I was fucking Molly. I was fucking Molly. I was fucking Molly. I was fucking Molly. I was fucking Molly.

  Hardin’s words echo in my head over and over long after he’s slammed the door and marched out of my life forever. I try to calm myself down before having to go down to meeting everyone.

  I should have known Hardin was toying with me, I should have known that he was still messing around with that skank. Hell, he was probably sleeping with her the whole time he was “dating” me. How could I be so stupid? I almost believed him last night when he said he loved me—I was thinking, why else would he drive all the way to Seattle? But the answer really is: because he’s Hardin and he does things like that to mess with me. He always has and always will. Confusing me is this guilt I feel for blurting out that I kissed that guy, and the way I basically blamed Hardin for last night when I know I wanted it just as much as he did. I just don’t want to admit that to him, or to myself, not really.

  Thinking of him and Molly together makes my stomach churn. If I don’t eat something soon, I’ll vomit. Not only from my hangover but from Hardin’s confession. Molly, of all people . . . I despise her. I can picture her, with her stupid smirk, knowing that her sleeping with Hardin again would torture me.

  These thoughts circle around me like vultures until, finally, having pulled myself back from the abyss of a total breakdown, I dot the corners of my eyes with a tissue and grab my purse. In the elevator I nearly lose it again, but by the time I reach the bottom floor, I’ve regained control.

  “Tessa!” Trevor calls from the o
ther side of the lobby. “Good morning,” he says as he hands me a cup of coffee.

  “Thank you. Trevor, I’m so sorry for Hardin’s behavior last night—” I start.

  “It’s okay, really. He’s a little . . . intense . . . ?”

  I almost laugh, but the thought of doing this makes me nauseous again. “Um, yeah . . . intense,” I mumble and take a sip of my coffee.

  He looks at his phone then tucks it back into his pocket. “Kimberly and Christian will be down in a few minutes.” He smiles. “So . . . is Hardin still here?”

  “No. And he won’t be coming back.” I try to sound like I could care less. “Did you sleep well?” I ask in attempt to change the subject.

  “Yeah, but I was worried about you.” Trevor’s eyes travel to my neck, and I move my hair to cover where my mark maybe is showing.

  “Worried? Why?”

  “Can I ask you something? I don’t want to upset you . . .” His tone is cautious, and it makes me a little nervous.

  “Yeah . . . go ahead.”

  “Has Hardin ever . . . you know . . . he hasn’t ever hurt you, right?” Trevor looks at the ground.

  “What? We fight a lot, so, yeah, he hurts me all the time,” I answer and take another gulp of the delicious coffee.

  He looks up at me sheepishly. “I mean physically,” he mutters.

  I snap my head to the side to look at him. He didn’t just ask me if Hardin puts his hands on me? I cringe at the thought. “No! Of course not. He would never do that.”

  I can tell by the look in Trevor’s eyes that he doesn’t mean to offend me. “I’m sorry . . . he just seems so violent and angry.”

  “Hardin is angry, and sometimes violent, but he would never, ever hurt me like that.” I feel an odd wave of anger toward Trevor for accusing Hardin of such a thing. He doesn’t know Hardin . . . but then again, neither do I, apparently.

  We stand in silence for a few minutes, and I ponder that until I spot Kimberly’s blond hair coming toward us.

  “I really am sorry. I just think you should be treated much better,” Trevor says quietly right before the others join us.

  “I feel like shit. Absolute shit.” Kimberly groans.

  “Me, too—my head is killing me,” I agree as we all walk down a long corridor toward the conference center.

  “You look so good, though. I, on the other hand, look like I just crawled out of bed,” she says.

  “You do not,” Christian says and kisses her forehead.

  “Thank you, babe, but your opinion is quite biased.” She laughs and then rubs her temples.

  Trevor smiles and says, “Looks like we won’t be going out tonight.” Everyone readily agrees.

  When we arrive at the conference, I go straight to the breakfast bar and grab a bowl of granola. I eat it much faster than I should, and I can’t seem to shake Hardin’s words from my mind. I wish I had at least kissed him once more . . . No, I don’t. I must still be drunk.

  The seminars go by quickly, and though Kimberly groans as the keynote speaker’s voice booms far too loudly through the room, come the lunchtime break my headache is almost completely gone.

  Noon. Hardin would be back home by now, probably with Molly. He probably drove straight to her place just to spite me. Have they already slept together in our room? I mean, our old room? In the bed that was meant for us? When I remember the way he touched me and moaned my name last night, my body is replaced by hers. All I can see is Hardin and Molly. Molly and Hardin.

  “Did you hear me?” Trevor asks and takes a seat next to me.

  I smile apologetically. “Sorry, I was out of it.”

  “I was wondering if you want to grab dinner tonight since everyone’s staying in.” I look into his shining blue eyes, and when I don’t immediately answer him, he stutters, “I-if you don’t . . . want to, that’s okay, too.”

  “Actually, I would love to,” I tell him.

  “Really?” he breathes. I can tell he thought I would turn him down, especially after Hardin’s behavior toward him.

  For the next four hours of talks, I let it warm my heart that Trevor would still want to take me out even after being threatened by my crazy ex.

  “THANK GOODNESS THAT’S OVER. I need sleep,” Kimberly groans as we get into the elevator.

  “Looks like you’re just not as young as you used to be,” Christian teases, and she rolls her eyes and leans against his shoulder.

  “Tessa, tomorrow we’ll go shopping in the morning while these two are at meetings,” she says and closes her eyes.

  Which sounds great to me. As does a nice quiet dinner in Seattle with Trevor—in fact, it sounds amazing after my wild night with Hardin. I’m a little uneasy about my behavior this weekend already, kissing a stranger, basically forcing Hardin to have sex with me, and now going to dinner with a third guy. But the last of these is the most benign, and at least I know there won’t be anything physical involved.

  Not for you, sure, but for Hardin and Molly . . . my subconscious throws in.

  Man, she is getting on my nerves.

  At my door, Trevor stops and says, “I’ll come get you at six thirty, is that okay?”

  I answer him with a smile and a nod and go inside to the scene of the crime.

  I was going to try to take a small nap before my dinner with Trevor, but I end up taking another shower instead. I feel dirty from the events of last night, and I need to rewash Hardin’s scent from my body. This time two weeks ago, I had thought everything would be so different right now, with Hardin and me getting ready to visit his mother in London for Christmas. Now I don’t even have anywhere to live, which prompts the thought that I need to call my mother back. She called me multiple times last night.

  After I get out of my shower, I start reapplying my makeup and hit her number.

  “Hello, Theresa,” she says in a clipped tone.

  “Hey, sorry I didn’t call you back last night. I’m in Seattle for that publishing conference, and we were talking to clients later over dinner.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Is he there?” she asks, and I’m a little stunned she would even ask me that.

  “No . . . Why do you ask?” I say as nonchalantly as possible.

  “Because he called here last night trying to find out where you were. I don’t appreciate you giving him this number—you know how I feel about him, Theresa.”

  “I didn’t give him the number—”

  “I thought the two of you ended things?” she interrupts.

  “We did. I did. He probably just needed to know something about the apartment, or something,” I lie. He must have been really desperate to get hold of me if he called my mother’s house. That thought hurts and pleases me at the same time.

  “Speaking of which, we can’t get you into a dorm until Christmas break is over, but since you’ll be off of work and school for the week, you can just come here.”

  “Oh . . . okay,” I agree. I don’t want to spend my break at my mother’s, but what choice do I have?

  “I will see you Monday. And, Tessa, if you know what’s good for you, you will stay far away from that boy,” she says and hangs up.

  Spending a week at my mother’s house will be hell; I don’t know how I lived there for eighteen years. Honestly, I never realized how bad she was until I got a taste of freedom. Maybe since Hardin is leaving the country Tuesday, I can stay in that motel for two more nights and go to the apartment while he’s gone. As much as I don’t want to ever go there again, it is still my name on the lease, and it’s not like he would ever know.

  Scrolling through my phone, I see that I have no new messages or calls from him, though I knew that I wouldn’t. I can’t believe he would sleep with Molly and throw it in my face like that. The worst part is that if I hadn’t blurted out that I kissed someone else, he would have never told me. Just like with the bet that started our “relationship.” And that means I just can’t trust him.

  I finish getting myself ready, deciding upon a pla
in black dress. My days of woolen, pleated skirts seem so long ago. I apply another layer of concealer to my neck and wait for Trevor to come. True to his nature, he knocks on the door at exactly six thirty.

  chapter twenty

  HARDIN

  I stare at my father’s massive house, unable to decide whether or not to go inside.

  Karen has decorated the outside with too many lights, mini Christmas trees, and what appear to be dancing reindeer. The blow-up Santa in the yard twists with the wind in a way that seems to mock me as I climb out of my car. Pieces of ripped-up airline tickets blow around the seat before I close the door.

  I will have to call and make sure I can get a credit for the unused tickets, otherwise I just blew two grand. I probably should just go alone and escape this dreadful state for a while, but for some reason, going home to London doesn’t sound as appealing with Tessa not coming along. I’m grateful that my mum was okay with coming here instead. She actually seems excited to come to America.

  As I ring my father’s doorbell, I try to come up with an excuse as to why the hell I am here. But before I can conjure something, Landon appears.

  “Hey,” I say as he opens the door wider for me to come inside.

  “Hey?” he questions.

  I dig my hands into my pockets, unsure what to say or do.

  “Tessa isn’t here,” he says and walks toward the living room, indifferent to my presence.

  “Yeah . . . I know. She’s in Seattle,” I say, following a few feet behind him.

  “So . . .”

  “I . . . um . . . well, I came to talk to you . . . or my dad, I mean Ken. Or your mum,” I ramble on.

  “Talk? About what?” He takes the bookmark from the book he’s holding and begins to read. I want to snatch the book from his hands and toss it into the fire, but that won’t get me anywhere.

  “Tessa,” I say quietly. My fingers fiddle with my lip ring as I wait for him to burst into laughter.

  He looks at me and closes his book. “Let me get this straight . . . Tessa doesn’t want anything to do with you, so you’re here to talk to me? Or your father, or even my mother?”