by Anna Todd
“I’d ask you the same thing.” He smiles.
“Well . . . I’m . . .” I take my bottom lip between my teeth.
But he saves me from having to explain myself. “My plumbing went haywire, so here I am.” Bending down, he gathers some of my stuff and hands me a soaked copy of Wuthering Heights with a raise of his brow. Then he hands me a couple of wet sweaters and Pride and Prejudice, saying ruefully, “Here . . . this one’s in bad shape.”
And like that, I know the universe is playing a sick joke on me.
“I somehow knew you would be into the classics,” he tells me with a friendly smile. He takes the bags from me and I give him a nod of thanks before sliding in the key card and opening the door. The room is freezing, so I go over to the heater immediately and turn it all the way up.
“You would think for how much they charge here they wouldn’t worry about their electric bill,” Trevor says and sets my bags on the floor.
I smile and nod in agreement. I grab the clothes that fell onto the snow and put them over the shower curtain rod. When I come back into the main room, there’s an awkward silence with this person I barely know in this room that isn’t really mine. “Is your apartment nearby?” I ask, to bring some life into the space.
“House. But yeah, it’s only about a mile away. I like to be close to work, so I know I won’t ever be late.”
“That’s a good idea . . .” It sounds like something I would do.
Trevor looks so different in casual clothes. I have only ever seen him in suits, but here he’s wearing snug blue jeans and a red sweatshirt, with his hair messy where it’s usually perfectly gelled.
“I think so, too. So are you alone?” he asks and looks at the ground, obviously uncomfortable prying.
“Yeah. I’m alone.” I mean that in more ways than he knows.
“I’m not trying to be nosy, I was just asking because your boyfriend doesn’t seem to like me much.” He half laughs and wipes his black hair from his forehead.
“Oh, Hardin doesn’t like anyone—don’t take it personally.” I pick at my nails. “He isn’t my boyfriend, though.”
“Oh, sorry. I just assumed he was.”
“He was . . . sort of.”
Was he? He said he was. But then, Hardin said a lot of things.
“Oh, sorry again. I just keep saying all the wrong things.” He laughs.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind,” I tell him and unpack the rest of my bags.
“Do you want me to go? I don’t mean to intrude.” He half turns toward the door, as if to show his offer is genuine.
“No, no, you can stay. If you want, of course. You don’t have to,” I say too quickly.
What is wrong with me?
“It’s settled, then, I’ll stay,” he says and sits down on the chair next to the desk. I look for a place to sit myself, and eventually decide on the edge of the bed. I’m pretty far away from him, which makes me realize how spacious the room really is.
“So, how are you liking Vance so far?” he asks, his fingers tracing patterns on the wooden desk.
“I love it. It’s so much more than I ever expected. It’s literally my dream job. I hope to get hired on after I graduate.”
“Oh, I think you’ll be offered a position there well before then. Christian is very fond of you—that manuscript you turned in last week was all I heard about at lunch the other day. He says you have a good eye, and from him that’s a huge compliment.”
“Really? He said that?” I can’t help but smile. The action feels odd and unwelcome but also comforting all at once.
“Yeah, why else would he invite you to the conference? Only the four of us are going.”
“Four of us?” I ask.
“Yeah. Me, you, Christian, and Kim.”
“Oh, I didn’t know Kim was going.” I hope desperately that Mr. Vance didn’t only invite me because he feels obligated due to my relationship with Hardin, his best friend’s son.
“He wouldn’t be able to go a weekend without her,” Trevor teases. “Because of her office management skills, of course.”
I give a little smile. “I can see that. So why are you going?” I ask, and then mentally slap myself. “I mean why are you going, since you work in finance, don’t you?” I try to clarify.
“No, I get it, you bookies don’t need the human calculator around.” He rolls his eyes, and I laugh, really laugh. “He’s opening a second office in Seattle shortly and we’re going to a meeting with a potential investor. Also, we’ll be scouting locations, so he needs me to make sure we get a good deal, and Kimberly to make sure whatever building we like functions with our work flow.”
“Are you into real estate, too?” The room is finally warm, so I take my shoes off and tuck my feet underneath me.
“No, not at all, but I’m good with numbers,” he brags. “It’ll be a good time, though. Seattle is a beautiful city. Have you been?”
“Yeah, it’s is my favorite city. Not that I have a lot to choose from . . .”
“Me either; I’m from Ohio, so I haven’t seen much. Compared to Ohio, Seattle is like New York City.”
I find myself genuinely interested in knowing more about Trevor. “What made you come to Washington?”
“Well, my mother passed away my senior year of high school and I just had to go. There’s just so much more to see, you know? So I promised her right before she died that I wouldn’t spend my life in that dreadful town where we lived. The day I got accepted to WCU was the best and worst day of my life.”
“Worst?” I ask.
“She passed away that same day. Ironic, isn’t it?” He gives a wan smile. The way only half of his mouth turns up is lovely.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be. She was one of those people that didn’t belong here with the rest of us. She was too good, you know? My family got to have more time with her than we deserved, and I wouldn’t change a thing,” he says. He gives me full smile and gestures at me. “What about you? Are you going to stay here forever?”
“No, I always wanted to move to Seattle. But lately I’ve been thinking of going even further,” I admit.
“You should. You should travel and see everything you possibly can. A woman like you shouldn’t be kept in a box.” He must notice some odd look on my face, because he quickly says, “Sorry . . . I just mean you could do so much. You have a lot talents, I can tell.”
But I wasn’t bothered by what he said. Something about the way he called me a woman makes me happy; in my life, I’ve always felt like a child because everyone treats me like one. Trevor is only a friend, a new friend, but I’m really glad to have his company on this terrible day.
“Have you had dinner?” I ask.
“Not yet. I was debating whether or not to order a pizza, so I don’t have to go back into that blizzard.” He laughs.
“We could split one?” I offer.
“Deal,” he says, with the kindest look I’ve seen in a long time.
chapter six
HARDIN
My father has the stupidest expression on his face; it always happens when he tries to look authoritative, like now, with his arms crossed as he stands filling his front doorway.
“She isn’t going to come here, Hardin—she knows you’ll find her.”
I fight the urge to knock his teeth down his throat. Instead, I rake my fingers through my hair, flinching slightly when my knuckles twinge. The cuts are deeper than usual this time. Punching the drywall did more damage to my hands than I thought. It’s nothing compared to how I feel inside. I never knew this type of pain existed; it’s so much worse than any physical pain I could cause myself.
“Son, I really think you should give her some space.”
Who the fuck does he think he is?
“Space? She doesn’t need space! She needs to come home!” I yell. The old woman next door turns to look at us, and I raise my arms at her.
“Please don’t be rude to my neighbors,” my dad warns me.
&
nbsp; “Then tell your neighbors to mind their own damn business!” I’m sure the old gray-hair heard that.
“Goodbye, Hardin,” my father says with a sigh and closes the door.
“Fuck!” I yell and pace back and forth on the porch a few times before finally going back out to my car.
Where the hell is she? As mad as I am, I’m worried as hell about her. Is she alone, or afraid? Oh course, knowing Tessa, she isn’t afraid at all; she’s probably going over the reasons she hates me. Actually, she’s probably writing them down. Her need to be in control of everything and her stupid lists used to drive me crazy, but now I long to see her scribbling the most irrelevant things. I would give anything to watch her chew on her full bottom lip in concentration, or see that adorable scowl take over her sweet face, even one more time. Now that she’s with Noah and her mother, the small chance I thought I had is gone. Once she’s reminded why he’s better for her than me, she’ll be his again.
I call her again, but her phone goes straight to voicemail for the twentieth time. Goddammit, I’m such a fucking idiot. After driving around for an hour to every library, every bookstore, I decide to go back to the apartment. Maybe she’ll show up, maybe she’ll show up . . . I know she won’t.
But what if she does? I need to clean up the huge mess I made, and buy some new dishes to replace the ones that I smashed against the walls, just in case she comes home.
A MAN’S VOICE BOOMS through the air, and vibrates my bones: “Where are you, Scott?”
“I saw him leave the bar. I know he’s here,” another man says.
The floor is cold when I climb out of bed. At first I thought it was Daddy and his friends, but now I don’t think it is.
“Come out, come out wherever you are!” the deepest voice yells, and there’s a massive crash.
“He isn’t here,” my mummy says as I reach the bottom of the stairs and can see everyone. My mum and four men.
“Ohhh, look what we have here,” the taller man says. “Who knew Scott had such a bangin’ wife.” He grabs my mum by the arm and pulls her off the couch.
She grabs at her shirt desperately. “Please . . . he isn’t here. If he owes you money, I’ll give you all I have. You can take anything in the house, the television maybe . . .”
But the man only sneers at her. “A television? I don’t want a damn television.”
I watch her struggle to shake free of him, almost like a fish I caught once. “I have some jewelry—not much, but please—”
“Shut the fuck up!” another man says and smacks her.
“Mum!” I yell and run into the living room.
“Hardin . . . go upstairs!” she shouts, but I’m not leaving my mummy with these bad men.
“Get out of here, you little shit,” one of them tells me, pushing me so I land hard on my butt. “See, bitch, the problem is that your husband did this,” he snarls, pointing to his head, where I see a massive gash across his bald scalp. “And since he isn’t here, the only thing we want is you.” He smiles, and she kicks her legs at him.
“Hardin, baby, go upstairs . . . Now!” she yells.
Wait, why is she mad at me?
“I think he wants to watch,” the injured man says and pushes her onto the couch.
I jolt awake and sit up.
Fuck.
They keep coming, every night worse than the last. I got so used to them not coming that I could sleep. Because of her, it was all because of her.
But here I am at four in the damn morning with bloody sheets from my busted knuckles and a killer headache from my nightmares.
I close my eyes and try to pretend she’s really here, and hope that sleep will come.
chapter seven
TESSA
Tess, baby, wake up,” Hardin whispers as he touches his lips to the soft skin just under my ear. “You look so beautiful when you’re waking up.”
I smile, pulling him by his hair to meet my eyes. I brush my nose against his, and he chuckles.
“I love you,” he says and presses his lips to mine.
Only I can’t feel them. “Hardin?” I question. “Hardin?”
But he fades from my side—
I snap my eyes open and am thrown back into reality. The strange room is pitch black, and for a second I forget where I am. And then it comes to me: a motel room. Alone. I grab my phone off the bedside table and see it’s only 4 a.m. I wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes and close my eyes to try to get back to Hardin, even if it’s only in a dream.
WHEN I FINALLY wake up again, it’s seven. I step into the shower and try to enjoy the hot water as it relaxes me. I blow-dry my hair and do my makeup; today is the first day I feel like looking decent. I need to get rid of this . . . mess that’s inside of me. Not knowing what else to do, I take a page from my mother’s book and paint a perfect face on in order to bury what’s inside.
When I’m finished, I look well rested somehow and actually really nice. I curl my hair and dig my white dress out of my bag, and cringe. Good thing this room has an iron. It’s cold, too cold for this dress, which doesn’t quite reach my knees, but I won’t be outside long. I choose some plain black flats and set them on the bed with the dress.
Before I get dressed, I repack my bags so they’re more orderly. I hope my mother calls with some good news about the dorms. If not, I’ll have to stay here until she does, which will drain what little money I have, and fast. Maybe I should just look into getting my own place. I might be able to afford something small close to Vance.
I open the door to find the snow mostly melted under the morning sun. Thank goodness. Just as I unlock my car door, Trevor walks out of his room two doors down from mine. He’s wearing a black suit and a green tie; he looks so put together.
“Good morning! I would’ve helped you get those, you know,” he says when he sees I’m carrying my bags.
Last night, after we ate pizza, we watched a little television and shared stories of college. He had a lot more stories than me since he’s already graduated, and while I really enjoyed hearing about what my college experience could have—and should have—been like, it made me a little sad, too. I shouldn’t have been going to parties with people like Hardin. I should have found myself a small but true group of friends. It would’ve been so different, so much better.
“Did you sleep well?” he asks and pulls a set of keys out of his pocket. With a click, the BMW engine starts. Of course, the BMW is his.
“Your car starts itself?” I laugh.
He holds up his key. “Well, this thing starts it.”
“Nice.” I smile a little sarcastically.
“Convenient,” he counters.
“Extravagant?”
“A little.” He laughs. “But still very convenient. You look lovely today, as usual.”
I put my bags in the back of my car. “Thank you, it’s freezing out,” I say and get into the driver’s seat.
“See you at work, Tessa.” he says and climbs into his BMW.
Despite the sun, it’s still cold, so I quickly thrust my key into the ignition and turn it to start up the heater.
Click . . . click . . . click . . . is my car’s only response.
Frowning, I try again, and get the same thing.
“Can I get a freaking break!” I say aloud and hit my palms against the steering wheel.
For a third time I try to start my car, but of course nothing happens, not even the clicking this time. I look over, thankful that Trevor’s still here. His window rolls down, and I can’t help but laugh at my own misfortune.
“Do you think you could give me a ride?” I ask and he nods.
“Of course. I think I know where you’re going . . .” He laughs, and I climb out of my car.
I can’t help but turn my phone on during the short drive to Vance. Surprisingly, I have no new texts from Hardin. I have a few voicemails, but I don’t know if they’re from him or my mother. Choosing not to listen to them just in case, I instead text my mother and
ask her about the dorms. Trevor drops me off at the door so I don’t have to walk in the cold, which is really thoughtful of him.
“You look refreshed,” Kimberly says with a smile as I walk in and grab a donut.
“I feel a little better. Sort of,” I say and pour myself a cup of coffee.
“Are you ready for tomorrow? I can’t wait to get out of here for the weekend—Seattle has amazing shopping, and while Mr. Vance and Trevor have their meetings we’ll find some fun stuff to do. Is . . . um . . . have you talked to Hardin?”
It takes me a second, but I decide to tell her. She’ll probably find out anyway. “No. Actually, I moved my stuff out yesterday,” I say and she frowns.
“I’m sorry, girl. It’ll get easier as time goes by.”
God, I hope she’s right.
MY DAY GOES faster than expected, and I finish this week’s manuscript early. I’m excited to go to Seattle, and I hope that I can get my mind off Hardin, even if it’s only for a little bit. Monday is my birthday, which I’m not looking forward to it at all. If things hadn’t gone downhill so quickly, I’d be on my way to England with Hardin on Tuesday. I don’t really want to spend Christmas with my mother either. Hopefully I’ll be back in the dorms by then—even if they’ll basically be empty—and then maybe I can think of a good enough reason to not show at my mother’s. I know it’s Christmas, and that’s terrible of me, but I’m not exactly in a holiday mood.
My mother texts me as my day is winding down, saying that she hasn’t heard back about the dorm. Great. At least I only have one more night until the Seattle trip. Shuffling around from place to place is not fun at all.
As I’m getting ready to leave for the day, I remember I didn’t drive to work myself. I hope Trevor hasn’t already left.
“See you tomorrow, we’ll meet here, and Christian’s driver will take us to Seattle,” Kimberly tells me.
Mr. Vance has a driver?
Of course he does.
When I step off the elevator, Trevor is sitting on one of the black couches in the lobby; the contrast of the black couch, black suit, and his blue eyes is very appealing.
