After We Collided

by Anna Todd

  I want to spend it with him more than anything, but something bad happens every single time I go to that damn frat house, and I don’t want to continue the cycle, especially when we’re in such a fragile state as it is. The last thing I need is to drink and make things worse. I’d like to get Hardin something for his birthday, though. I’m terrible at gifts, but I’ll think of something. I stop by Landon’s room but he doesn’t answer when I knock; when I open the door he’s asleep and I decide to go to bed myself.

  I open the bedroom door and nearly jump out of my skin when I’m confronted with a figure sitting on the bed. I drop my toiletry bag on the dresser . . . then realize it’s Hardin and I calm down. As I watch, he awkwardly crosses his ankles in front of him.

  “I . . . I, um, I’m sorry for being a dick down there, I wanted to stay.” Hardin runs his fingers through his unruly hair.

  “I asked you, too,” I remind him and cross over to the bed.

  He sighs. “I know and I’m sorry. Can I please stay? I had such a good time tonight just being around you, and I’m so tired . . .”

  I contemplate this for a few moments. I wanted him to stay. I miss the comfort of having him in my bed, but he was just saying that he had things to do.

  “What about your work?” I raise a brow.

  “It can wait,” he says, looking distressed.

  I sit next to him on the bed and grab the pillow, covering my lap with it.

  “Thank you,” Hardin says, and I scoot closer. He’s still a magnet to me; I can’t seem to stay even feet away from him.

  I look over at him, and he smiles, then quickly looks down at the floor. My body has a mind of its own, and I lean into him, wrapping my hand around his. His hands are cold, his breathing heavy.

  I’ve missed you, I want to say. I want to be close to you, I want to confess.

  He squeezes my hand gently and I rest my head on his shoulder. One of his arms wraps around my back, holding me close.

  “I had a really nice time tonight,” I tell him.

  “Me too, baby. Me too.”

  Being called “baby” makes me want to be even closer to him. I look up at him to find his eyes resting on my mouth. Instinctively, my head tilts up, bringing my mouth closer to his. When I close the space between us and press my lips to his, he leans back on his elbows and I climb onto his lap. I feel one hand resting on my lower back, pushing my body further onto his.

  “I missed you,” he says, then sweeps his tongue over mine. I miss the cold of the metal ring, but my body is heated by my need for him, making everything else irrelevant.

  “I missed you, too.” I wrap my fingers into his hair and kiss him harder. My other hand snakes down to touch the hard muscles under his shirt, but he stops me, leaning up with me still on his lap.

  He smiles, not without chagrin. “I think we should keep it PG.” His cheeks are flushed and his breath heavy against my face.

  I want to protest, to tell him that I need his touch, but I know he’s right. Sighing, I climb off of his lap and lie down on the far side of the bed.

  “I’m sorry, Tess. I didn’t mean . . .” he trails off.

  “No, you’re right. Really, it’s okay. Let’s get some sleep.” I smile, my body still reeling from the contact.

  He lies across from me, keeping to his side of the bed with a pillow shoved between us, reminding me of our earlier days. He falls asleep fast, his peaceful snores filling the air, but when I wake up in the middle of the night, Hardin is gone. Instead, a note on his pillow has taken his place.

  Thank you again, had to get some work done, it says.

  THE NEXT MORNING I text Hardin as soon as I wake up to wish him a happy birthday and get dressed while I wait for a reply. I wish he would have stayed, but, in the light of day, I’m a little relieved to not have to deal with the awkward morning-after-a-first-date thing.

  With a sigh I put my phone into my bag and head downstairs to meet Landon, to tell him I’m going to miss half the day today in order to get Hardin a birthday present.

  chapter one hundred and four

  HARDIN

  It’s gonna be sick, man,” Nate tells me as he climbs onto the stone wall at the end of the parking lot.

  “Sure it will,” I remark. I move out of the way of Logan’s cigarette smoke and sit next to Nate.

  “It will, and you better not bitch out, because we’ve had this planned for months,” Logan tells me.

  My legs swing back and forth, and for a second I think of pushing Logan off the stone wall for all the shit he gave me about taking my piercings out.

  “I’m coming. I already told you I was.”

  “Are you bringing her?” Nate asks, obviously talking about Tess.

  “Nah, she’s busy.”

  “Busy? It’s your twenty-first birthday, dude. You took your rings out for her, she needs to be there,” Logan remarks.

  “Whenever she comes, shit always goes down anyway. And for the last fucking time, I didn’t take them out for her.” I roll my eyes and trace the cracks in the concrete.

  “Maybe you should have her beat Molly’s ass again—that was priceless.” Nate chuckles.

  “That was so funny; she’s funny when she’s drunk, too. And when she cusses it’s so funny. It’s like hearing my Nan cuss.” Logan laughs along with Nate.

  “Would you two just shut the fuck up about her, already? She’s not coming.”

  “All right, calm down, would you?” Nate asks with a smile.

  I wish the two of them hadn’t put together a party for me, because I wanted to spend my birthday with Tessa. I don’t really give a shit about birthdays, but I wanted to see her. I know she doesn’t have shit to do, she just doesn’t want to be around my friends—not that I blame her.

  “Is something going on with you and Zed?” Nate asks as we head to class.

  “Yeah, he’s a dick and won’t stay away from Tessa. Why?”

  “I’m just wondering because I saw Tessa going into the environmental-whatever-the-fuck-it’s-called building and I thought it was weird . . .” Nate tells me.

  “When was this?”

  “Like two days ago. Monday, I think.”

  “Are you . . .” But I stop midsentence because I know he’s serious.

  Goddammit, Tessa, what part of “stay the fuck away from Zed” do you not understand?

  “You don’t care if he comes, though, right? Because we already told everybody and I don’t want to uninvite anyone,” Nate says; he’s always been the nice one out of our group.

  “I don’t give a shit. He’s not the one fucking her, I am,” I tell him and he laughs. If he only knew what was actually going on.

  Nate and Logan leave me in front of the athletic building, and I have to admit I’m anxious to see Tessa. I wonder how she wore her hair today and if she’ll be in those pants that I love so much.

  What the fuck? It still blows my mind the way I think about the dumbest shit. Months ago, if you’d told me I’d be daydreaming about the way some girl was wearing her hair, I would have knocked your teeth out. And yet here I am hoping that Tessa’s pulled hers back so I can see her face.

  LATER, I CAN’T BELIEVE I’m back at the frat house again. It feels like ages ago that I lived here. I don’t miss it at all, but I don’t exactly love living in that apartment alone either.

  This year has been fucking insane. I really can’t believe I’m twenty-one now and will be finished with university next year. My mum kept crying on the phone earlier about how I’m growing up too quickly, and I ended up hanging up on her because she just wouldn’t stop. In my defense, I was somewhat polite about it, acting as if my phone was about to die the whole conversation.

  The house is packed, the street is lined with cars, and I wonder who the fuck-all these people are that are here for my birthday. I know the party isn’t totally for me. It’s just an excuse to throw a big-ass party, but still. Just as I begin to wish Tessa were here, I spot Molly’s hideous pink hair and I’m glad Tessa
didn’t come.

  “There’s the birthday boy.” She smiles and walks into the house before me.

  “Scott!” Tristan calls from the kitchen; he’s already been drinking, I can tell.

  “Where’s Tessa?” Steph asks.

  All of my friends are standing in a small circle basically staring me down as I try to think of something on the spot. The last thing I need is for them to know I’m trying to persuade her to come back to me.

  “Wait . . . more importantly, where the hell are your rings?” Steph puts her hand under my chin and tilts my head to examine me like I’m a fucking lab rat.

  “Get off,” I groan and pull away from her.

  “Holy shit! You’re turning into one of them,” Molly says and points to a group of preppy douche bags across the room.

  “No, I’m not.” I glare at her.

  She cackles and presses on: “Yes, you are! She told you to take them out, didn’t she?”

  “No, she didn’t, I took them out because I fucking felt like it. Mind your own damn business,” I snap, and she rolls her eyes.

  “Whatever you say.” She walks away, thank God.

  “Ignore her. Anyway, is Tessa coming?” Steph asks me, and I shake my head. “Well, I miss her! I wish she would hang out more.” She takes a drink from her red cup.

  “Me, too,” I say under my breath and fill a cup with water.

  Much to my misery, the music and voices get louder as the night goes on. Everyone is wasted before eight o’clock. I still haven’t decided if I want to drink or not. I went a long time without drinking until that night at my father’s when I destroyed all of Karen’s china. I used to go through these lame-ass parties without drinking . . . well, for the most part. I barely remember my early college days, bottle after bottle, slut after slut—it’s a blur, and I’m glad. Shit didn’t make sense before Tessa came around.

  I find a spot on the couch next to Tristan and zone out to thoughts of Tessa while my friends play another dumb-ass drinking game.

  chapter one hundred and five

  TESSA

  Hey, the text from Hardin reads.

  The butterflies that appear in my stomach are ridiculous.

  How’s your party? I send, and shove another handful of popcorn into my mouth. I’ve been staring at the screen of my e-reader for two hours straight, and I need a break.

  Lame. Can I come over? he responds.

  I nearly jump off the bed. I made the decision earlier after spending hours finding a decent gift for him that my “space” can wait until after his birthday. I don’t care how needy or pathetic that is. If he chooses to spend time with me over his friends, I’ll take it. He really is trying and I need to acknowledge that; granted, we need to discuss his not wanting a future with me and how that will affect my career.

  But that can wait until tomorrow.

  Yeah, how long until you’ll be here? I write.

  I dig through the dresser and grab a blue sleeveless shirt that Hardin once told me looks nice on me. I’ll have to wear jeans; otherwise I’ll look like an idiot sitting in this bedroom in a dress. I wonder what he’ll be wearing. Will his hair be pushed back like it was yesterday? Was his party boring without me and he wanted to see me instead? He really is changing and I love him for it.

  Why am I so giddy?

  Thirty minutes.

  I rush to the bathroom to brush the popcorn kernels from my teeth. I shouldn’t be kissing him, should I? It is his birthday . . . one kiss won’t be so bad, and let’s be honest: he deserves a kiss for all the effort he’s put into this so far. One kiss won’t hurt anything I’m trying to do.

  I touch up my makeup and run the hairbrush through my hair before pulling it into a ponytail. I clearly have no sense of judgment where Hardin is involved, but I’ll scold myself tomorrow. I know he doesn’t do much for birthdays, but I want this one to be different—I want him to know that his birthday is important.

  I grab the gift I bought and begin to wrap it quickly. The paper I bought is covered in music notes and would make a good book cover. I’m getting nervous and sidetracked even though I shouldn’t be.

  Okay, see you soon, I send, and head downstairs after scribbling his name on the small gift tag.

  Karen is dancing to an old Luther Vandross song, and I can’t help but laugh when she turns around with flushed cheeks. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were there,” she says, clearly embarrassed.

  “I love this song. My father used to play it all the time,” I tell her, and she smiles.

  “He has good taste, then.”

  “He did.” I smile at the somewhat decent memory of my father twirling me around the kitchen . . . before the sun fell and he gave my mother a black eye for the first time.

  “So what are you up to tonight? Landon’s at the library again,” she tells me, though I already knew.

  “I was actually going to see if you could help me make a cake or something for Hardin. It’s his birthday and he’s going to be here in about a half hour.” I can’t help but smile.

  “He is? Well, of course, we can make a quick sheet cake . . . or actually, let’s do a two-layer circle cake. What does he like better, chocolate or vanilla?”

  “Chocolate cake and chocolate icing,” I tell her. No matter how much I feel I don’t know him sometimes, I know him better than I think I know myself.

  “Okay, get the pans out for me?” she asks, and I jump to it.

  Thirty minutes later I’m waiting for the cake to cool the rest of the way so that we can ice it before Hardin gets here. Karen has dug out some old candles; she could only find a one and a three, but I know he’ll find humor in that.

  I walk to the living room and look out the window to see if he’s here yet, but the driveway is empty. He’s probably just running a little late. It’s only been forty-five minutes.

  “Ken’ll be home in an hour or so, he had a dinner with some colleagues. Being a terrible person, I claimed to have a stomachache. I just hate those dinners.” She laughs and I giggle as I attempt to smooth the chocolate icing along the edges of the cake.

  “I don’t blame you,” I tell her and place the numbers on the top of the cake.

  After arranging them to say thirty-one, I decide to have them say thirteen instead. Karen and I laugh at the corny candles and I struggle with the thick icing to write Hardin’s name below the candles.

  “It looks . . . nice,” she lies.

  I cringe at my terrible icing skills. “It’s the thought that counts. Or at least it better be . . .”

  “He’ll love it,” Karen assures me before heading upstairs so Hardin and I can have some privacy when he gets here.

  It’s now been an hour since he texted, and I’m sitting in the kitchen alone waiting for him to show. I want to call him, but if he isn’t coming he should be the one to call me and tell me.

  He’ll come. It was his idea to come, anyway. He will come.

  chapter one hundred and six

  HARDIN

  For a third time, Nate tries to hand me his cup. “C’mon, man. Just one drink, it’s your twenty-first birthday, dude—it’s illegal not to!”

  Because it will get me out of here smoother, I finally relent. “Fine, one drink. But that’s it.”

  Smiling, he pulls his cup back and grabs the bottle of liquor out of Tristan’s hand. “Okay, then. At least have a proper one,” he says.

  I roll my eyes before taking a swig of the dark liquid. “All right, that’s all. Now you can leave me alone,” I tell him, and he nods in agreement.

  I head to the kitchen to get another cup of water, and Zed, of all fucking people, stops me. “Here,” he says, handing me my phone. “You left it on the couch when you got up.”

  Then he wanders back into the living room.

  chapter one hundred and seven

  TESSA

  After two hours, I leave the cake on the counter and head upstairs to take my makeup off and change back into my pajamas. This is what happens every single ti
me I let myself give him another chance. Reality smacks me in the face.

  I really thought he was coming; I’m so foolish. I was downstairs baking him a cake . . . God, I’m an idiot.

  I grab my headphones before I allow myself to cry again. The music pours into my ears as I lie back on the bed and do my best to not be too hard on myself. He acted so different last night—mostly in a good way, but I do miss his perverted and rude remarks that I always pretend to hate but secretly love.

  I’m glad Landon didn’t come to say hello when I heard him get home. I was still holding a little hope and I would have looked even more ridiculous, not that he’d ever tell me that, of course.

  I reach over and turn off the light on the nightstand, then turn down the music slightly. If this were a month ago, I would jump into my car and drive to that stupid house and ask him why the hell he stood me up, but it’s now, and now I just don’t have it in me to fight him. Not anymore.

  I’M WOKEN UP by my phone ringing in my ears, and the noise coming through my headphones startles me.

  It’s Hardin. And it’s almost midnight. Don’t answer it, Tessa.

  I literally have to force myself to ignore his call and shut off my phone. I reach over and set the alarm clock on the nightstand and close my eyes.

  Of course he’d be drunk, dialing me after standing me up. I should have known better.

  chapter one hundred and eight

  HARDIN

  Tessa isn’t answering my calls, and it’s pissing me off. It’s my damn birthday for fifteen more minutes, and she doesn’t answer the phone?

  Yeah, I probably should have called her sooner, but still. She hasn’t even responded to my text from hours ago. I thought we had a nice time yesterday, and she even tried to get me naked. It killed me to say no, but I knew what would happen if we went there. I don’t need to take advantage of her right now, even though I really fucking want to.