After We Collided

  Zed looks at me with worry. “He’s coming with you?”

  “No—well, yes. You won’t have to worry about him anymore. If you don’t press charges, you won’t have to hear from him again.”

  Zed looks at me through swollen eyes for a few seconds. “Fine.” He sighs. “I won’t press charges against him, but please promise me that you’ll really think about this. All of this; think of how much easier your life would be without him, Tessa. He attacked me for no reason, and here you are cleaning up his mess, as always,” he says, utterly irritated

  I don’t blame him, though. I’m using the feelings he has for me against him, to persuade him to not press charges against Hardin.

  “I will, thank you so much,” I tell him and he nods.

  “I wish I had fallen in love with someone who could love me back,” he says so quietly that I barely hear him.

  Love? Zed loves me? I know he has feelings for me . . . but he loves me? His fight with Hardin—the reason he’s in the hospital right now—is my fault. But he loves me? He has a girlfriend and I’m so back and forth with Hardin. I look over at him and pray it’s the pain medication speaking, not really him.

  chapter one hundred and twenty-one

  HARDIN

  I’ll see you at home, Tessa,” Landon says as Tessa and I climb out of my dad’s car and walk toward mine.

  I look back at him and mumble a nice “fuck you” under my breath.

  “Leave him alone,” she warns and disappears into my car.

  When I get inside, I turn the heat up and look at her with thankfulness in my eyes. “Thanks for coming home with me, even if it’s just for the night.”

  Tessa just nods and leans her cheek against the window.

  “You okay? I’m sorry about today, I—” I begin.

  She sighs, cutting me off. “I’m just tired.”

  Two hours later, Tessa is fast asleep on the bed, her arms hugging my pillow and her knees curled up to her chest. She’s breathtaking even when she’s exhausted. It’s still too early for me to go to sleep, so I go into the closet and grab the copy of Pride and Prejudice she gave me. Bright yellow marker covers much more of the book than I expected, so I lie next to her once again and begin to read the marked passages. One catches my eye:

  “There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense.”

  This one is certainly from our earlier days. I can picture her now, annoyed and flustered, sitting on her tiny bed in that dorm with a highlighter and novel in hand.

  I glance over at her and chuckle lightly at her expense. Flipping through the pages, I see a pattern here; she despised me. I knew that then, but being reminded of it is pretty damn strange:

  “An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do.”

  Her mother and Noah.

  “Angry people are not always wise.”

  Isn’t that the truth . . .

  “I have not the pleasure of understanding you.”

  I didn’t understand my own damn self and still don’t, really.

  “I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine.”

  She did this the day I told her I loved her and took it back. I know she did.

  “I must learn to be content with being happier than I deserve.”

  Easier said than done, Tess.

  “To be fond of dancing was a certain step toward falling in love.”

  The wedding. I know it. I remember the way she beamed up at me and pretended not to be in pain as I stepped all over her shoes.

  “We all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of man; but this would be nothing if you really liked him.”

  This still applies. Landon would say some shit like this to Tessa, he probably has before.

  “Till this moment I never knew myself.”

  I’m not sure which of us this applies to more.

  “ ‘There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil, a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome.’

  “ ‘And your defect is a propensity to hate everybody.’

  “ ‘And yours,’ he replied with a smile, ‘is willfully to misunderstand them.’ ”

  Each part holds more truth than the last as I skip back to the front section of the familiar novel.

  “She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me, and I am in no humor at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men.”

  I had once told Tessa she wasn’t my type—what a fucking idiot I was. I mean, look at her: she’s everyone’s type, even if they’re too damn stupid to see it at first. My hands work the pages, and my eyes skim over countless marked lines that relate to the two of us and how she feels about me. This is the best gift I’ll ever receive, that’s for damn sure.

  “You have bewitched me, body and soul.”

  One of my favorite lines, I used it on her once when we first moved into this place. She scrunched up her nose at my corny use of the line, laughed at me, and tossed a piece of broccoli at me. She’s always throwing shit at me.

  “But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them forever.”

  I have changed for the better, for her, since I met her. I’m not perfect, fuck, nowhere near, but I could be one day.

  “How little of permanent happiness could belong to a couple who were only brought together because their passions were stronger than their virtue.”

  I don’t like this one at all. I know exactly what was going through her mind as she highlighted it. Moving on . . .

  “A lady’s imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment.”

  At least it isn’t just Tessa’s mind that does this crazy shit.

  “Only the deepest love will persuade me into matrimony.”

  She left the rest of the sentence out, the part that says “which is why I shall end up and old maid.”

  Only the deepest love can persuade me into matrimony. Hmm . . . I’m not sure even that will do it for me. There is no possible way that there is a love deeper than what I feel for this girl, but it doesn’t change my opinion on marriage. People don’t get married for the right reasons anymore, not that they ever did. In the past it was for status or money, and now it’s only to be sure you won’t be lonely and miserable—two things nearly every married person still feels anyway.

  I place the book on the bedside table before I switch off the light and lay my head flat on the mattress. I want to take my pillow back, but she’s holding it too tight and I don’t want to be a dick.

  “Would you please just stop being so stubborn and come to England with me? I can’t be without you,” I whisper to her in her sleep, running my thumb along the warm skin of her cheek.

  I’m looking forward to getting some sleep again, real sleep with her next to me.

  chapter one hundred and twenty-two

  TESSA

  When I wake up, Hardin is sprawled across the bed, one arm covering his face and the other hanging over the edge of the mattress. His T-shirt is soaked in sweat, and I feel disgusting. With a quick kiss to his cheek, I hurry to the bathroom.

  When I return from my shower, Hardin’s awake, like he’s been waiting for me. He leans up on his elbow. “I’m afraid to be expelled,” he says. His voice startles me, but his confession startles me even more.

  I sit next to him on the bed, and he doesn’t even try to tear the towel from around my body. “You are?”

  “Yeah. I know it’s stupid . . .” he begins.

  “No, it’s not stupid. Anyone would be
afraid, I know I would be. It’s okay to be afraid.”

  “What will I do if I can’t go to WCU anymore?”

  “Go to another college.”

  “I want to go back home,” he says, and my heart sinks.

  “Please don’t,” I say quietly.

  “I have to, Tess. I can’t afford university if my dad isn’t the chancellor.”

  “We could find a way.”

  “No, this isn’t your problem.”

  “Yes, it is. If you go to England, we’ll never see each other.”

  “You have to come, Tessa. I know you don’t want to, but you have to. I can’t be away from you again. Please just come.” His words are so full of emotion that I can’t seem to find mine.

  “Hardin, it’s not that easy.”

  “Yes, it is. It’s easy—you could get a job doing exactly what you’re doing now and possibly make even more money and go to an even better university.”

  “Hardin . . .” I focus my eyes back on his bare skin.

  He sighs. “You don’t have to decide right now.”

  I almost tell him that I’ll pack my bags and go to England with him, but I can’t.

  For now, I’ll stay the coward that I am and push the news of Seattle back another day while I roll onto my side and he gathers me in his arms.

  For once, he’s gotten me to crawl back into bed with him in the morning. Comforting him is more of a priority than my routine.

  “THE OWNER, DREW, seems like a dick, but he’s pretty cool,” Hardin informs me as we approach the small brick building.

  A bell sounds above my head when Hardin opens the door for me and we walk inside. Steph and Tristan are already there. Steph is seated on a leather chair, and Tristan is looking through what appears to be . . . a book of tattoos?

  “Took you long enough!” Steph kicks her leg out as Hardin and I walk by and he grabs her boot in his hand before it touches me.

  “Already being annoying, I see . . .” He rolls his eyes and attempts to lead me over to Tristan, but I pull my hand from his and stand near Steph.

  “She’s fine with me,” she tells him, and he scowls at her but doesn’t say anything in return.

  Hardin stands next to Tristan about twenty feet away, grabs a black book like the one Tristan has in his hands, and flips through the pages.

  “I haven’t seen you in here before.” The guy looks up at me while he wipes the surface of Steph’s bare stomach with a towel.

  “I’ve never been here before,” I reply.

  “Name’s Drew. I own the place.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Tessa.”

  “Are you getting any work done today?” He smiles.

  “No, she’s not.” Hardin answers for me, wrapping his arm around my waist.

  “She’s with you, Scott?”

  “Yes, she is.” Hardin pulls me closer. He’s obviously doing this for show. He said that Drew seems like an asshole, but I don’t get that vibe from him at all. He seems really nice.

  “Cool. Cool. About time you got a girlfriend.” Drew laughs. Hardin relaxes a little but keeps his arm around me. “So why don’t you get something done, hombre?”

  A buzzing noise fills the space, and I look down at Steph’s stomach to watch in amazement as the tattoo gun drags slowly across her skin. Drew wipes the excess ink off with a towel and continues.

  “I might, actually,” Hardin tells him.

  I look up at Hardin, and his eyes meet mine. “Really? What do you want to get?” I ask him.

  “I don’t know yet, something on my back.” Hardin’s back is virtually the only part of his body that is completely ink-free.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” He rests his chin on top of my hair.

  “Speaking of getting work done, where the fuck are your rings?” Drew asks, dipping the gun into a small plastic cup full of black ink.

  “I’m over them.” Hardin shrugs.

  “If he messes this up because you won’t stop talking to him, you’re paying for the whole thing.” Steph looks at Hardin, and I laugh.

  “I’m not going to pay for that shit,” Hardin and Drew say in unison.

  Tristan finally joins us and pulls a chair over to sit by Steph; he takes her hand in his. I look over at the small and freshly inked cluster of birds drawn into Steph’s skin. It’s sort of lovely, actually, the placement of them. Drew gives her a mirror so she can get a better look.

  “I love it!” She smiles, handing the mirror back to Drew before sitting up.

  “What are you going to get, Hardin?” I ask him quietly.

  “Your name.” He smiles.

  Shocked, I step back from him with my jaw on the floor.

  “You wouldn’t want that?” he asks.

  “No! Gosh no, that’s . . . I don’t know, that’s insane,” I whisper.

  “Insane? Not really, it’s just showing you that I’m committed to you and don’t need a ring or marriage proposal to stay that way.”

  His voice is so clear that I’m no longer sure if he’s joking. How did we go from joking to commitments and marriage in less than three minutes? This is how it always is with us, so I suppose I should be used to it by now.

  “Ready, Hardin?”

  “Sure.” Hardin steps away from me and pulls his shirt over his head.

  “A quote?” Drew speaks my exact thoughts.

  “I just want it across the top of my back; it’s ‘I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.’ Just make it like an inch in height, do it in your cool freehand,” Hardin instructs and turns his back to face Drew.

  I never wish to be parted from you from this day on . . .

  “Hardin, can we talk about this for a second, please?” I ask him.

  I swear he knows about my plans to go to Seattle and he’s taunting me by getting this tattoo. The line he chose is perfect but cruelly ironic, considering I’ve been withholding telling him about my move to Seattle.

  “No, Tess, I want to do it,” he says, dismissing me.

  “Hardin, I really don’t think—”

  “It’s not a big deal, Tessa, it’s not my first tattoo,” he jokes.

  “I just—”

  “If you don’t shut up, I’ll have your name and Social Security number printed across my entire back,” he threatens with a laugh, but I get the feeling he would actually go through with it to prove his point.

  I stay quiet to try to think about what to say. I should just blurt it out right now before the gun touches his clear skin. If I wait . . .

  The now-familiar buzz of the gun sounds, and black ink litters Hardin’s back.

  “Now, come over here and hold my hand.” He smirks, holding out his hand to me.

  chapter one hundred and twenty-three

  HARDIN

  Tessa shyly grasps my hand, and I pull her closer to me.

  “Stop moving,” Drew snaps.

  “My bad.”

  “Does it hurt?” she softly asks.

  The innocence in her eyes astounds me, to this day. She was on her knees last night, and twenty hours later she’s speaking to me the way she would speak to a wounded child.

  “Yes, really fucking bad,” I lie.

  “Really?” Worry flashes over her features.

  I love the feeling that comes with the needle transferring the ink to my skin; it’s no longer painful, it’s relaxing.

  “No, baby, it doesn’t hurt,” I assure her, and Drew, being the dick he is, makes gagging noises behind my back.

  Tessa giggles, and I put my middle finger in the air. I didn’t mean to call her baby just now, in front of Drew, but I don’t really give a fuck what he thinks, and I know for a fact he’s head over heels for the girl he just had a baby with a few months ago, so he can’t say shit to me.

  “I still can’t believe you’re doing this,” she says as Drew spreads the ointment over the new tattoo.

  “It’s already done,” I remind her, and she looks worried as she stares at her phone s
creen.

  I hope Tess doesn’t make too big of a deal out of this tattoo; it’s not that serious. I have a shitload of tattoos. This one is for her, and I’m hoping she’s excited about it. I know I am.

  “Where the fuck are Steph and Tristan?” I look out the windows of the shop in an attempt to spot Steph’s bright-ass hair.

  “We can go next door and find them?” Tessa suggests after I pay Drew and promise to come back and let him give me an entire back piece.

  I nearly knock his teeth out when he suggests giving Tessa a sleeve or belly piercing.

  “I think I would look cool with my nose pierced.” She smiles as we walk outside.

  I laugh at the thought and bring my arm around her waist as a bearded man stumbles past us. His jeans and shoes are dirty, and his thick sweatshirt is stained with liquid. From the smell of it, I assume vodka.

  Tessa stops next to me, and the man does the same. I gently pull her behind me. If this homeless drunk thinks he’s coming any fucking closer to her, I will fucking. . . .

  What she says next is so spoken so softly that it comes out as a whisper, and I watch in confusion as all the color drains from her face.

  “Dad?”

  acknowledgments

  Here we are again, the second book over already. Two down, two to go. I am going to try to make it through this without turning into a blubbering mess like I did while writing the first book’s acknowledgments. (Not likely, but it’s worth a try.)

  First, I want to thank my husband, who continued to support me while I spent hours and hours writing and tweeting and writing and tweeting and then writing again.

  Next are my Afternators (I think we decided on this name—hah!). You all mean the world to me, and I still can’t believe how lucky I am to have you supporting me. (Here come the tears.) Every single tweet, every comment, every random selfie you send me, every secret you share with me has made us into the family we are now. Those of you who were here from the beginning (Wattpad days), we have a bond that can never be explained. We will be the ones who remember how it felt the first time Harry and Tess kissed. You know how nerve-racking it was waiting for updates—you remember commenting things like OMH HARTYSH SHJD, and we all know exactly what it means. I could never thank you enough, and I hope Hardin has the same place in your heart as our Harry.