by Anna Todd
Hardin’s hand moves from my hair down to my breasts. He tugs at the neckline of my blouse, exposing my chest. His hand finds my nipple, tugging at it gently before he rolls it between his fingers. I gasp and arch my back as he repeats the action over and over.
“Oh God,” I utter, then clamp my mouth shut. I’m aware that we are in my office, but I can’t seem to worry in the way that I normally would. My thoughts begin with Hardin and end with pleasure. The reality of this and the taboo around our act isn’t relevant to me right now.
“Feels good, doesn’t it, baby? I told you, nothing different . . . well, nothing different-bad, at least.” He moans and wraps his arm around my waist. I nearly slip from the edge of the desk as he changes positions, resting my back against the hard wood of my desk. “I fucking love you, you know that, don’t you?” Hardin pants into my ear.
I nod, but I know that he needs more.
“Say it,” he insists.
“I know you love me,” I assure him. My body is tightening and he straightens his back, bringing his fingers to rub over my clit. I lean up, trying to watch his fingers work their magic on my body, but the sensation is too much.
“Come, baby, go on.” Hardin picks up the pace and lifts one of my legs higher into the air.
His eyes roll back in his head. My release is so close, so intense, and so overpowering that I can’t see anything but stars as I grip his inked arms. I press my lips together, hard, to keep from calling out his name as I come undone. Hardin’s release isn’t as composed: he leans down, burying his head in my neck, calling my name once before pressing his mouth into my skin to silence his voice.
Hardin pulls out, places a kiss on my ear. I stand up and adjust my clothes, figuring I should get to the restroom soon. God, this is weird. I can’t deny that I enjoyed it, but it’s hard to get past the idea that has been so ingrained in my mind.
“Ready?” he asks.
“For what?” I say, my breathing ragged.
“To go home.”
“I can’t go home. It’s only two.” I gesture to the clock on the wall.
“Call Vance’s office on our way out. Come home with me,” Hardin instructs and grabs my purse from my desk.
“Though you may want to replug yourself before we go.” He pulls a tampon from my purse and taps me on the nose with it.
I swat his arm. “Stop saying that!” I groan, stuffing it back into my bag as he laughs.
THREE DAYS LATER, I’m waiting patiently for Hardin to pick me up, staring out the large glass windows in the lobby, thankful that it hasn’t snowed of late. The only evidence of the snowfall from days before is the black sludge littering the dips in the sidewalk.
Much to my annoyance, Hardin has insisted on driving me to work every day since our fight over Trevor. I’m still surprised that I was able to calm him down the way that I did. I don’t know what I would have done if he’d assaulted Trevor in the office; Kimberly would have been forced to call security, and Hardin surely would have been arrested.
Hardin was supposed to be here at four thirty and it’s now five fifteen. Nearly everyone has left for the day, and multiple people have offered to give me a ride home, including Trevor, though he did say it from about ten dozen feet away. I don’t want things to be awkward between us, and I would still like to be friends, despite Hardin’s “orders.”
Finally Hardin’s car pulls into the lot, and I step outside into the chilling wind. It is warmer today than it has been, the bright sun adding a small amount of warmth, but not enough. “Sorry for being late, I fell asleep,” he tells me as I climb into the warm car.
“It’s okay,” I assure him and stare out the window.
I’m slightly nervous about New Year’s Eve tonight and don’t want to add fighting with Hardin to my list of stressors today. We haven’t decided what we are actually doing yet, which drives me insane—I want to know the details and have the entire night planned.
I’ve been debating whether or not to reply to the text messages that Steph sent me a couple days ago. Part of me really wants to see her, to show her and everyone that they did not break me—though they humiliated me, yes—and that I’m stronger than they think. That being said, the other half of me thinks it will be incredibly awkward to see Hardin’s friends. I know they’ll probably think I’m an idiot for being with him again.
I won’t know how to act around them, and honestly I’m afraid that everything will be different when Hardin and I are not in our own small bubble. What if he ignores me the entire time, or what if Molly’s there? My blood boils at the thought.
“Where do you want to go?” he asks.
I had earlier mentioned that I needed something to wear tonight, so I say, “The mall is fine. We need to decide where we’re going so I know what to get.”
“Do you really want to hang out with everyone, or just go out, the two of us? I’m still rooting for staying in.”
“I don’t want to stay in, we stay in all the time.” I smile. I love staying in with Hardin, but he used to be out all the time, and sometimes I worry if I keep him in the house too much, he’ll get bored with me.
When we arrive at the mall, Hardin drops me off at the entrance to Macy’s and I hurry inside. By the time he joins me, I already have three dresses draped over my arms.
“What is that?” Hardin scrunches his nose at the canary-yellow dress on top. “That color is hideous,” he says.
“You find every color hideous, apart from black, of course.”
He shrugs at my truthful statement and runs his finger along the fabric of the gold dress underneath. “I like this one,” he says.
“Really? That was the one I was unsure about. I don’t want to stand out, you know?”
He arches his brow. “And you wouldn’t be standing out in yellow?”
He has a point. I place the yellow dress back on the rack and hold up a white strapless, then ask, “What about this one?”
“You should try them on,” he suggests with a cheeky smile.
“Pervert,” I tease.
“Always.” He smirks and follows me to the dressing room.
“You are not coming in here,” I scold him and close the door to the stall, leaving just enough room to pop my head out.
He pouts before taking a seat on the black leather couch outside the dressing room. “I want to see each one,” he calls when I close the door the rest of the way.
“Be quiet.”
I hear him chuckle, and I want to open the door just to see his smile, but I decide against it. I put the white strapless dress on first and struggle to zip it up the back: tight. Too tight and short, way too short. Finally I get the thin fabric to zip, and I tug at the bottom of the dress before opening the door to the dressing room.
“Hardin?” I almost whisper.
“Holy shit.” He practically gasps when he turns the corner and takes in the sight of me in the barely-there dress.
“It’s short.” I flush.
“Yeah, you aren’t getting that,” he says as his eyes move up and down my body.
“If I want to, I will,” I say, reminding him that he will not tell me what to wear.
He glares at me for a moment before speaking. “I know . . . I just meant you shouldn’t. It’s too revealing for your taste.”
“That’s what I thought.” I hum and look in the full-length mirror once more.
Hardin smirks, and I see him check out my bottom. “It is incredibly sexy, though.”
“Next,” I say and walk back into the dressing room.
The gold dress feels silky against my skin despite the entire dress being covered in tiny gold disks. It falls to the middle of my thighs, and the sleeves are quarter length. This is much more me, only a touch riskier than usual. The sleeves give the illusion of the dress being more conservative, but the way the material clings to my body and the short length say otherwise.
“Tess,” Hardin whines impatiently from directly outside. I open the door, and his react
ion makes my heart flutter.
“Christ.” He swallows.
“You like it?” I chew my bottom lip. I feel pretty confident in the dress, especially after Hardin’s cheeks turn pink and he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.
“Very much.”
This is such a normal couple thing to be doing, trying on clothes for him at Macy’s, it feels strange yet very comforting. I was terrified a few days ago when he found out about my dinner with Trevor in Seattle.
“I’m going to get this one, then,” I say.
After finding a pair of thick and rather intimidating black pumps, we head to check-out. Hardin pesters me to let him pay, but I refuse, this time winning the battle.
“You’re right, you really should be buying me something . . . you know, to make up for the lack of Christmas gifts I received,” he teases as we exit the mall.
I swat at his arm, but he grabs my wrist before I can connect. His lips press a light kiss against my palm before he encases my hand in his and leads me to the car. Holding hands in public is never our thing . . . As soon as the thought crosses my mind, he seems to realize what we’re doing and drops my hand. One step at a time, I suppose.
BACK AT THE APARTMENT, after I’ve declared for the eighth time that we should hang out with his friends, my nerves begin to get the best of me as I imagine the possibilities of how the night could turn out. But we can’t hide from the world forever. How Hardin behaves around his old friends will really show me how he truly feels about me, about us.
When I shower, I shave my legs three times, staying under the hot water until it is no longer warm. When I get out, I ask Hardin, “What did Nate say about tonight?” I’m unsure what I want the answer to be.
“He texted to meet them at the house . . . my old house. At nine. They’re having a big thing, apparently.”
I glance at the clock: already seven. “Okay, I’ll be ready.”
I do my makeup and blow-dry my hair quickly. My hair is in tight curls, and I pin my bangs back as usual. I look . . . nice . . .
Boring. Boring. The same as I always do. I need to look better than ever before for my comeback. This is my way of showing them that they didn’t get the best of me. If Molly is there, she’ll certainly be dressed to get attention, including Hardin’s. And as much as I hate her, she is gorgeous. Molly’s pink hair burning in the back of my mind, I grab my black eyeliner and draw a thick line across my top eyelid; for once the line is straight, blessedly. I do the same on the bottom and add more pink to my cheeks before pulling the bobby pin from my hair and tossing it in the trash.
Quickly, I retrieve the pin from the top of the trash. Okay, so maybe I’m not quite ready to throw it away yet, but I’ll skip it tonight. I flip my head down and rake my fingers through my tight curls. The reflection in the mirror shocks me. She looks like she belongs in a nightclub, she looks wild and . . . sexy, even. The last time that I wore this much makeup was when Steph gave me a “makeover” and Hardin taunted me. This time, I look even better.
“It’s eight thirty, Tess!” Hardin warns me from the living room.
I check the mirror one last time and take a deep breath before rushing to the bedroom to get dressed before Hardin can see me. What if he thinks I look bad? Last time he didn’t care for my new and improved look. I shut off my doubtful thoughts and pull the dress over my head, zip it up, and step into my new pumps.
Maybe I should wear tights? No. I need to calm down and stop overthinking this.
“Tessa, we really need—” Hardin’s voice gets louder as he comes into the room, but then stops midsentence.
“Do I look—”
“Yes, fuck yes,” he practically growls.
“You don’t think it’s too much, all the makeup?”
“No, it’s . . . um . . . it’s nice, I mean . . . it’s good,” he stammers.
I try not to laugh at his apparent loss for words, something that never occurs with him. “Let’s go . . . we need to go now or we won’t make it out of this apartment,” he mutters.
His reaction has given my confidence an extreme boost. I know it shouldn’t, but it does. He looks flawless as usual, wearing a simple black T-shirt and snug black jeans. The black Converses I’ve quickly become fond of complete the look I know as “Hardin.”
chapter fifty-six
TESSA
The Fray quietly sings about forgiveness as we pull up to Hardin’s old fraternity house. The drive here was nerve-racking, and both of us stayed silent. Memories, mostly bad memories, flood my mind, but I push them back. Hardin and I are in a relationship now, a real one, so he’ll be different now. Won’t he?
Hardin stays close to me as we walk through the crowded house to the smoke-filled living room. Red cups are immediately placed in our hands, but Hardin discards his quickly before taking mine from me. I reach to take it back, and he frowns.
“I don’t think we should drink tonight,” he says.
“I don’t think you should drink tonight.”
“Fine, only one,” he warns and hands me back the cup.
“Scott!” a familiar voice calls. Nate appears in the kitchen and pats Hardin’s shoulder before giving me a friendly smile. I’d almost forgotten how cute he is. I try to picture what he’d look like without tattoos and piercings, but I can’t seem to do it. “Wow, Tessa, you look . . . different,” he says.
Hardin rolls his eyes and grabs my drink from my hand to take a sip. I want to take it from him, but I don’t want to cause a fight. One drink won’t hurt. I slide my phone into Hardin’s back pocket so I can hold my cup more easily.
“Well . . . well . . . well . . . look who it is,” a female voice says at the same time as a mop of pink hair steps around a big round guy.
“Great.” Hardin groans as Molly the skank walks toward us.
“Long time no see, Hardin,” she says with a sinister grin.
“Yep.” He takes another drink from the cup.
Her eyes move to me. “Oh, Tessa! I didn’t see you there,” she says with obvious sarcasm.
I ignore her, and Nate hands me a new drink.
“Did you miss me?” Molly asks Hardin. She’s wearing more than usual, which is to say she’s still barely clothed. Her black shirt is ripped down the front, purposely, I assume. Her red shorts are incredibly short, with tears in the fabric going up the sides, revealing even more pale skin.
“Not so much,” Hardin says without looking at her. I bring the cup to my lips to hide my smirk.
“I’m sure you did,” she responds.
“Fuck off,” he groans.
She rolls her eyes like it’s all a game. “Jeez, someone is pissy.”
“Come on, Tessa.” Hardin grabs my hand and pulls me away. We walk to the kitchen, leaving an annoyed Molly and a laughing Nate behind.
“Tessa!” Steph squeals as she jumps up from one of the couches. “Damn, girl! You look so hot! Wow!” Then she adds, “I would actually wear that!”
“Thanks.” I smile. It’s a little awkward seeing Steph, but not nearly as bad as seeing Molly. I have honestly missed Steph and am hoping that tonight goes smoothly enough that we can explore the possibility of rebuilding our friendship.
She hugs me. “I’m glad you came.”
“I’m going to go talk to Logan—stay right here,” Hardin instructs before walking away.
Steph eyes him with humor. “Rude as ever, I see.” She laughs loudly over the raucous music and partygoers’ voices.
“Yeah . . . some things never change.” I smile and gulp down the remainder of the sweet drink in my cup. I hate to think about it, but the taste of cherries reminds me of my kiss with Zed. His mouth was cold and his tongue sweet. It seems like another world, another Tessa, who shared that kiss with him.
As if Steph can read my thoughts, she taps my shoulder. “There’s Zed, have you seen him since . . . you know?” She points her zebra-print nail at a black-haired boy.
“No . . . I haven’t seen anyone, really. E
xcept Hardin.”
“Zed felt like such an ass after everything. I almost felt sorry for him,” she says.
“Can we talk about something else, please?” I beg as his eyes meet mine and I look away.
“Oh yeah, shit; sorry. Want another drink?” she asks.
I smile to minimize the tension. “Yes, definitely.” I glance around the kitchen to where Zed was previously standing, but he’s gone. I chew on the inside of my cheek and look back at Steph, who is staring into her cup. Neither of us knows what exactly to say.
“Let’s go find Tristan,” she suggests.
“Hardin . . .” I begin to say that he asked me to stay put. But he didn’t ask, he demanded, which is annoying. I tip back my cup, gulping down the remainder of the cold drink. My cheeks are already getting warm from the alcohol running through me . . . My nerves are slightly calmer as I reach for yet another cup before following Steph into the living room.
The house is more crowded than I’ve ever seen it, and Hardin is nowhere to be found. Half of the living room has been taken over by a long card table filled with rows of red cups. Drunk college students throw Ping-Pong balls into the cups and then swallow the contents down. I’ll never understand the need for them to play all sorts of games when they’re intoxicated, but at least this one doesn’t seem to involve kissing. I spot Tristan sitting on the couch next to a redheaded guy who I remember seeing here before. He was smoking a joint with Jace the last time I saw him. Zed is seated on the arm of the couch and says something to the group, causing Tristan’s head to fall back from laughter. When Tristan looks up at Steph walking toward him, he smiles. I’ve liked Nate’s roommate from the first time I met him. He’s sweet, and he seems to really care for Steph.
“How are things between the two of you?” I ask her before we approach them.
She turns her whole body to me and beams. “Great, actually. I think I love him!”
“Think? You guys haven’t said it yet?” I gasp.
“No . . . God no. We’ve only been dating three months!”