After We Collided

  “What more proof do you need? Was him texting you from my phone not enough?”

  “It wasn’t him! He wouldn’t do that.”

  I don’t think he would, at least. Why would he?

  I’m going to ask him about it either way, but I just don’t see him doing that to me.

  “You are literally the most naïve person I’ve ever met, and it’s really fucking infuriating.”

  “Can we please stop arguing?” I sit back down on the bed and hold my head in my hands.

  “Agree to stay away from him.”

  “Agree to not fight him, again,” I fire back.

  “You’ll stay away if I don’t fight him?”

  I don’t want to agree, but I don’t want Hardin to fight him either. This is all giving me a headache. “Yes.”

  “When I say stay away from him, I mean no contact with him at all. No texts, no going by the science building, nothing,” he says.

  “How did you know I went there?” I ask him. Did he see me?

  My heart begins to race at the thought of Hardin seeing Zed and me in the greenhouse full of glowing flowers.

  “Nate told me he saw you.”

  “Oh.”

  “Is there anything else you need to tell me while we’re on the topic of Zed? Because once this conversation is over, I don’t want to hear another word about him,” Hardin says.

  “No.” I lie.

  “You’re sure?” he asks again.

  I don’t want to tell him, but I have to. I can’t expect honesty from him when I don’t give the same in return.

  I close my eyes. “I kissed him,” I whisper, hoping that he didn’t hear me. But when he knocks the books off the desk, I know he did.

  chapter one hundred and thirteen

  TESSA

  I open my eyes and look up at Hardin from the bed, but he isn’t looking at me. I feel like he’s barely registering that I exist. His eyes are focused on the books he pushed to the floor as he clenches his fists at his sides.

  To bring him back to me from wherever he is, I say it again. “I kissed him, Hardin.”

  Instead of looking at me, he taps his fists against his forehead in frustration, and my mind scrambles for an explanation. “I . . . you . . . why?” he mumbles.

  “I thought you forgot about me . . . that you didn’t want me anymore, and he was there and . . .” My explanation isn’t fair, and I know it. But I don’t know what else to say. My feet won’t move toward him like my mind wants them to, and I remain on the bed.

  “Stop saying that shit! Stop fucking saying he was there. I swear to God, if I hear that one more fucking time . . . !”

  “Okay! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Hardin. I was so hurt and confused, he was saying all the things that I was so desperate for you to say and—”

  “What was he saying?”

  I don’t want to repeat anything that Zed said, not to Hardin. “Hardin . . .” I hold on to the pillow as an anchor.

  “Now,” he demands.

  “He was just saying what would have happened if he had won the bet, if we had dated instead.”

  “And what was that like?”

  “What?”

  “What was that like, hearing that bullshit? Is that what you want? You want to be with him instead of me?” His anger is boiling and I can tell he’s trying his hardest to keep the lid on it, but the steam is pressing and pressing.

  “No, that’s not what I want.” I climb off the bed and take a cautious step toward him.

  “Don’t. Don’t come near me.” His words pierce me, pinning me to where I am.

  “What else did you do with him? Did you fuck him? Suck his dick?”

  I’m so thankful that the house is empty and they can’t hear Hardin’s foul accusations.

  “Oh my God! No! You know I didn’t. I don’t know what I was thinking when I kissed him. I was just being stupid, and I was at such a bad place with you abandoning me.”

  “Abandoning you? You’re the one who fucking left me, and now I find out you were flaunting yourself around campus like a fucking whore!” he screams.

  I want to cry but this isn’t about me, it’s about him and how hurt and angry he must be. “I didn’t mean it that way. Don’t call me names.” I squeeze the back of the desk chair.

  Hardin turns his back to me, leaving me alone in my guilt. I can’t imagine how I would feel if he had done this during the worst time in my life. I hadn’t thought about how he’d feel when I did it, though; I had only assumed he was doing the same.

  I don’t want to continue to push him. I know the way his temper gets too heated for him to control, and he’s been trying his best to do so.

  “Do you want me to leave you alone for now?” I weakly ask.

  “Yes.”

  I didn’t want him to agree for me to leave him be, but I do what he asks and head out of the bedroom. He doesn’t turn around.

  I’m unsure what to do with myself as I lean against the wall in the hallway. In a sick way I’d rather him be screaming at me, pinning me against the wall, and demanding me to tell him why I did what I did instead of staring out of the window and asking me to leave the room.

  Maybe that’s what’s wrong with us: we both crave the drama of disagreements. I don’t believe that to be true; we have come a long way since the beginning of our relationship, even if we’ve fought more than we’ve had peace. Most of the novels that I’ve read led me to believe quarrels come and go in the blink of an eye, a simple apology will bandage any problem and everything will be worked out within minutes. The novels lie. Maybe that’s why I’m so enamored with Wuthering Heights and Pride and Prejudice; both are incredibly romantic in their own way, but they reveal the truth behind blind love and promises of forever.

  This is the truth. This is a world where everyone makes mistakes, even the incredibly naïve girl who is usually the victim of a boy’s insensitivity and temper. No one is truly innocent in this world, no one. The people who believe themselves to be perfect are the worst ones of all.

  A crash from within Hardin’s room frightens me, and I bring my hand to my mouth as I hear another and another. He’s destroying the room. I knew he would. I should stop him from breaking more and more of his father’s property, but honestly, I’m afraid to. I’m not afraid that he’ll hurt me physically—I’m afraid of the words he’ll say while he’s in this state. I can’t be afraid, though, I can handle it.

  “Fuck!” he screams, and I step into the room. I’m half thankful that Ken took Karen and Landon out for dessert, but I almost wish someone was here to help me stop him.

  In Hardin’s hand is a piece of wood, the leg of a chair, I realize when I see the chair lying on its side at Hardin’s feet. He tosses the dark wood away, and his eyes glow an angry green when he sees me.

  “What part of leave me the fuck alone do you not get, Tessa?”

  I take another breath and let his angry words bounce off of me. “I’m not leaving you alone.” My voice doesn’t come out as strong as I intended.

  “If you know what’s good for you, you will,” he threatens.

  I take a few steps forward to meet him and stop less than a foot away. He tries to back up, but he’s blocked by the wall.

  “You won’t hurt me.” I call him out on his empty threat.

  “You don’t know that, I’ve done it before.”

  “Not purposely. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you did, I know that.”

  “You don’t know anything!” he yells.

  “Talk to me,” I calmly say. My heart is in my mouth as I watch him close his eyes and open them again.

  “I don’t have anything to say to you, I don’t want you.” His voice is labored.

  “Yes, you do.”

  “No, Tessa, I don’t. I don’t want shit to do with you. He can have you.”

  “I don’t want him.” I try not to let his harsh words penetrate me.

  “You obviously do.”

  “No, I only want y
ou.”

  “Bullshit!” He slams his open palm against the wall. It startles me, but I stay still. “Get out, Tess.”

  “No, Hardin.”

  “Don’t you have anything better to do? Go find Zed. Go fuck him, for all I fucking care—I’ll do the same, believe me, Tessa. I will leave here and fuck every girl I lay eyes on.”

  Tears spring to my eyes, but he doesn’t pay any mind. “You’re saying these things out of anger, you don’t mean them.”

  His eyes search the room for something, anything, left to break. He hasn’t left much unscathed. Luckily, the things that have been demolished are mostly mine. The poster board I brought home for Landon’s biology assignment . . . the suitcase full of books has been dumped out and my novels are scattered across the carpet. Some of my clothes have been pulled from the dresser, and the chair, of course, has been knocked to the floor and broken.

  “I don’t want to look at you . . . go,” he says gruffly, but softer than before.

  “I’m sorry for kissing him, Hardin. I know it hurts you, and for that I’m sorry.” I look up at him.

  Silently he studies my face. I jump slightly when his thumb wipes away the tears staining my cheeks.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he whispers.

  “I’m not,” I say in an equally hushed tone.

  “I don’t know if I can get past this.” He breathes heavily.

  My knees nearly buckle at the thought. I don’t think there has ever been a time since we declared our love for each other that I’ve had to consider Hardin being the one to end things over an infidelity. My kiss with the stranger on New Year’s was nothing like this; he was pissed off and I knew he would let me have it, but deep down I knew he wouldn’t hold on to it for too long. This time, though, it was with Zed, whom he had had a rocky friendship with because of me; they’ve been in several fights, and I know it drives Hardin insane for me to even speak to Zed.

  I don’t think getting back into a full-blown relationship with Hardin is a good idea at this moment, but our problems have shifted from uncertainty over the future to this. Unwanted tears spill from my unfaithful eyes, and his frown deepens.

  “Don’t cry,” he coaxes, his fingers expanding and resting against my cheek.

  “I’m sorry,” I breathe; a single tear falls onto my lips, and I lick it away. “Do you love me still?” I have to ask.

  I know he does, but I’m desperate and needy for the words.

  “Of course I do, I always will.” He comforts me in a soothing voice.

  It’s a strangely beautiful sound, really: the way his exasperated breathing is heavy and loud but his voice is calm and soft, like an image of angry waves crashing against the shore with no sound.

  “When will you know what you want to do?” I ask him, afraid of the answer.

  He sighs and presses his forehead against mine as his breathing begins to slightly slow down. “I don’t know; it’s not like I can be without you.”

  “I can’t either,” I whisper to him. “Be without you.”

  “We can’t seem to get our shit together, can we?”

  “No, not at all.” I almost smile at our calm exchange of words after his tantrum only minutes ago.

  “We can try?” I offer, and I attempt to lean into him, nervously waiting for him to stop me.

  “Come here.” His fingers press into the skin on my arms, and he brings me to his chest.

  It feels heavenly, like visiting home after being away for so long, and the scent of him as I bury my face into his T-shirt calms my heart.

  “You won’t go near him again,” he says into my hair.

  “I know.” I agree without thinking.

  “This doesn’t mean I’m over it, I just miss you.”

  “I know,” I repeat, nuzzling further into him. His heartbeat is solid and rapid against my ear.

  “You can’t go around kissing people every time you’re angry. It’s fucked up and I won’t have it. You would lose your shit if I did that.”

  I lift my head from Hardin’s chest to look at his hostile face. My fingers unwrap from around the thin material of his T-shirt and I thread them through his soft curls.

  His gaze is harsh, but the way his lips are parting slowly lets me know he won’t stop me when I tug at his hair to bring his face down to mine. If it weren’t for his height, this would be much easier. Hardin sighs into the kiss; tightening his grip around my waist, his fingers move to my hips and back around me again.

  My tears are mixed with his harsh breathing into the most lethal combination of love and lust. I love him a thousand times more than I lust for him, but the two mix and intensify as he removes his mouth from mine to trail his warm lips down my jaw and neckline. He bends at his knees to get better contact with my skin, and I can barely stand on my feet as he bites down softly just above where my collarbone would show if I were as thin as society wanted me to be.

  I begin to walk back toward the bed and tug at his shirt when he tries to protest. He gives in with a huff and a firm kiss to my neck; we reach the bed and stop to look at each other.

  I don’t want either of us to speak and ruin what we’ve started, so I grab ahold of the hem on my shirt and pull it up over my head. His breathing is deepening again, this time out of need, not anger.

  When my shirt hits the floor, I reach in front of me to undress him. He lifts his own shirt, and as my nervous but quick fingers fumble with his belt and tug his jeans down his legs, he grows impatient and uses the leg I’m not holding to push them to the floor.

  I climb back onto the bed as he does the same, his fingers constantly running along my bare skin. Hardin shifts his weight as his lips find mine again, his tongue pushing through my lips slowly as he hovers over me, using his arms to support his weight.

  I can feel him getting hard just from our kissing, so I lift my hips slightly off of the bed to meet his in order to create friction between us. He groans and tugs his boxers down with one hand, leaving them at his knees. My hand immediately grips his length, and he hisses into my ear. My hand pumps slowly up and down him. I lean down, tracing my tongue over the tip of his cock, wanting to elicit more sounds from him. I lift my head back up to face him and wrap my hand around him again.

  “I love you,” I remind him as he moans into my neck.

  He moves one hand to my chest and tugs carelessly at the cups of my bra to expose my breasts to him.

  “I love you,” he finally says.

  “Are you sure you want to do this? What with everything going on, and we aren’t together right now . . .” he explains, and I nod.

  “Please,” I beg.

  His mouth meets my chest, and his hands travel behind my back to unclasp my bra so he can remove it fully. His fingers are cold against my hot skin, but his tongue is warm and needy as he flicks it over my nipple, grazing the skin with his teeth.

  I tug at his hair, and I’m rewarded with a low moan as his mouth moves to my other breast.

  chapter one hundred and fourteen

  HARDIN

  One look at her while she’s undressing and I’m ready to bury myself inside of her. I know all of our issues haven’t been resolved, but I need this, we fucking need this.

  I push my jeans down over my ankles and climb back onto the bed to meet her, the infuriating girl who has stolen every ounce of me, body and soul, and I never want it back. I don’t even care what she does with it. It’s hers. I’m hers.

  I’m already hard just from looking at her naked body. I tear my mouth away from her beautiful tits just long enough to grab a condom from the dresser. She lies down on her back, legs spread open.

  “I want to be able to see you,” I tell her.

  She tilts her head to the side slightly in confusion, so I gently hold on to her arms and pull her on top of me. Her body feels so damn good on top of mine; she was made for me.

  Tessa’s thighs part farther, and she moves her hips, rubbing her wetness against my hard cock. I’m already fucking anxious and read
y, but this, the way she glides over my length with a teasing roll of her hips, is driving me fucking crazy.

  I reach my hand down between us and rub my thumb over her clit. She gasps and wraps her hand around the back of my neck.

  She lowers herself down onto me, and we both hiss as I enter her. Fuck, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed us.

  “You feel so good with me filling you.” I praise her and watch as her eyes roll back in pleasure. Her hips begin to move in slow circles as I take in the sight in front of me. She’s beautiful and so damn sexy, exquisite really. I’ve never seen anything or anyone like her. Her chest is full, pushing out each time her hips move. I love watching her ride me.

  She’s getting better and better at this, being on top. I can remember the first time she tried. She wasn’t bad, but she was so nervous the entire time. Right now she’s taking full control, and it couldn’t be any fucking better. She’s getting more and more comfortable in her body, and that makes me happy. She’s fucking sexy, and she should own it.

  I lift my hips from the bed and meet her movements. She moans, her eyes widening.

  “Feels good, doesn’t it, baby? You’re fucking amazing,” I encourage her.

  I gently tug at Tessa’s arm to bring her down to me. As much as I want to look at her as her body owns mine, I want to kiss her even more. My mouth finds hers, and I love the way she whimpers into my kiss.

  “Tell me how it feels,” I say into her mouth and cup her ass, pushing my cock deeper inside of her.

  “Good . . . so good, Hardin,” she whimpers. Her hands rest on my chest to support her weight.

  “Move faster, baby.” I reach up and take one of her tits in my hand. I squeeze, and she fucking loves it.

  “Mm-hmm . . .” she agrees.

  Seconds later she winces and stills. Her eyes meet mine.

  “What’s wrong?” I try to sit up with her against my chest without removing myself from her.

  “Nothing . . . it just felt . . . deeper or something. I can feel you so much deeper.” She flushes, her voice soft with wonder.

  “Good or bad?” I lift my hand to push her hair back behind her ear.

  “Oh, it’s good,” she says as her eyes roll back.