by Anna Todd
“I don’t think so. I’ve never seen anyone fight the way you two do.”
“It’s because we’re so different, that’s all.”
“Yeah, I guess you are.” He smiles.
By the time I check the clock again, it’s been an hour since Hardin left me here. Maybe he isn’t coming back after all. “Would you forgive someone if they kissed someone else?” I finally ask Zed.
“I guess it depends on the details.”
“What if they did it right in front of you?”
“Hell, no. That’s unforgivable,” he says with a disgusted expression.
“Oh.”
Zed leans toward me sympathetically. “He did that?”
“No.” I look up at him with wide eyes. “I did.”
“You did?” Zed is clearly surprised.
“Yeah . . . I told you I’m an idiot.”
“Yeah, I hate to say it, but you are.”
“Yep,” I agree.
“How are you getting home?” he asks.
“Well, I keep thinking he’s going to come back to get me, but he’s obviously not going to.” I bite my lip.
“I can take you if you want,” he says. But when I look around uncertainly, he adds, “Or Steph and Tristan are probably upstairs . . . you know.”
I look at him quickly. “Actually, can you take me now?” I don’t want to dig myself in any deeper, but I’m beginning to sober up, thank goodness, and I just want to be home to try to talk to Hardin.
“Yeah, let’s go,” Zed says, and I down the last of my water before following him outside to his car.
WHEN WE’RE ONLY about ten minutes away from the apartment, I begin panicking over Hardin’s reaction to Zed driving me home. I keep trying to force myself to sober up, but it doesn’t work that way. I’m a lot less intoxicated than I was an hour ago, but I’m still drunk.
“Can I use your phone to try to call him?” I ask Zed.
He removes one hand from the steering wheel to dig into his pocket for his phone. “Here . . . shit, it’s dead,” he says, pressing the button on the top and revealing an empty-battery symbol.
“Thanks anyway.” I shrug. Calling Hardin from Zed’s phone probably isn’t the best idea I’ve had. Not as bad as my idea to kiss a random guy in front of Hardin, but still not a good one.
“What if he isn’t here?” I say.
Zed looks at me quizzically. “You have a key, don’t you?”
“I didn’t bring mine . . . I didn’t think I would need it.”
“Oh . . . well . . . I’m sure he’ll be here,” Zed says, but he sounds nervous.
Hardin would literally murder him if he found me at Zed’s place. When we do arrive at the apartment, Zed parks and I scan the parking lot for Hardin’s car. And it’s parked in his usual spot, thank God. I have no idea what I would have done if he weren’t here.
Zed insists on walking me up. As much as I think that will not end well, I don’t know if I’m capable of getting myself up to the apartment alone in my intoxicated state.
Damn Hardin for leaving me at that party. Damn me for being an impulsive idiot. Damn Zed for being so sweet and fearless when he shouldn’t be. Damn Washington for being so damn cold.
When we reach the elevator, my head begins to pound along with my heart. I need to go over what I’m going to say to Hardin. He’ll be so mad at me, and I need to think of a good way to apologize without using sex. I’m not used to being the one to apologize for anything, because he’s always the one who messes up. Being on this side of things doesn’t feel good at all. It feels terrible.
We walk down the hallway, and I can’t help but feel as if we’re preparing to walk the plank. I just don’t know whether it will be Zed or myself that drops down into the water.
I knock, and Zed stands a few feet behind me as we wait for the door to open. This was a terrible idea, I should’ve just stayed at the party. I knock again, this time louder. What if he doesn’t answer?
What if he took my car and isn’t even here? I didn’t think of that.
“If he doesn’t answer, can I go to your place?” I try to hold my tears back.
I don’t want to stay at Zed’s and make Hardin even more upset with me, but I can’t really think of another option.
What if he doesn’t forgive me? I can’t be without him. Zed’s hand touches my back, and he rubs up and down to soothe me. I cannot cry, I need to be calm when he answers . . . if he answers.
“Of course you can,” Zed finally replies.
“Hardin! Please open up,” I quietly beg and rest my forehead against the door. I don’t want to yell and cause a scene at nearly two in the morning; our neighbors probably have issues with us yelling enough already.
“I guess he’s not going to answer.” I sigh and lean up against the wall for a minute. Then, finally, as we turn to walk away, the door clicks open.
“Well . . . look who decided to show up,” Hardin says as he stands in the doorway and eyes us. Something about his tone sends chills down my spine. When I turn to face him, his eyes are bloodshot and his cheeks are pink. “Zed! Pal! It’s so nice to see you,” he slurs. He’s drunk.
My thoughts suddenly clear. “Hardin . . . have you been drinking?”
He looks at me imperiously, clearly unsteady. “What’s it to you? You have a new boyfriend.”
“Hardin . . .” I don’t know what to say to him. He’s obviously wasted. The last time I saw him this drunk was the night Landon called me to come to Ken’s house. With his father’s history of drinking, and the way Trish was so fearful that Hardin had began to drink again, my heart sinks.
“Thank you for bringing me home, I think you should go now,” I politely say to Zed. Hardin is too drunk to be around Zed.
“Noooo-ho-ho . . .” Hardin exhales. “Come on in! Let’s have a drink together!” He grabs Zed’s arm and pulls him through the doorway.
I follow them in, protesting, “No, this is not a good idea. You’re drunk.”
“It’s fine,” Zed tells me, waving me off. It’s almost like he has a death wish.
Hardin stumbles over to the coffee table, grabs the bottle of dark liquor standing on it, and pours the liquid into a glass. “Yeah, Tessa. Chill the fuck out.” I want to yell at him for speaking to me that way, but I can’t find my voice. “Here you go—I’ll get another one. One for you, too, Tess,” Hardin mumbles and walks into the kitchen.
Zed sits in the chair, and I take a seat on the couch. “I’m not leaving you here alone with him. Look how drunk he is,” he whispers. “I thought he didn’t drink?”
“He doesn’t . . . not like this. This is my fault.” I put my head in my hands. I hate that Hardin is drunk because of what I did. I wanted us to have a civil conversation so I could apologize for everything.
“No, it’s not,” Zed assures me.
“This one’s . . . for you,” Hardin says loudly as he bursts back into the room and hands me a glass half full of liquor.
“I don’t want any more. I drank enough tonight.” I take the glass from his hands and set it on the table.
“Suit yourself, more for me.” He smiles at me something evil, not the same as the smile I’ve grown to adore. I’m honestly a little frightened. I know Hardin would never hurt me physically, but I don’t like this side of him. I would rather him be screaming at me or punching a wall than sitting here drunk off his ass and being so calm. Too calm.
Zed gives a little “cheers” and brings his drink to his lips.
“This is just like old times, isn’t it? You know, back before you wanted to fuck my girl,” Hardin says, and Zed spits his drink back into the glass.
“It’s not like that. You left her there, and I just brought her home,” Zed says in a threatening tone.
Hardin waves his own drink in the air. “I’m not just talking about tonight, and you know it. Though I am pretty annoyed by you taking it upon yourself to bring her home. She’s a big girl, she can fend for herself.”
�
�She shouldn’t have to fend for herself,” Zed fires back.
Hardin slams his glass onto the table, and I jump. “That’s not up to you! You wish it was, though, don’t you?”
I feel like I’m in the middle of a gunfight, and I want to move, but my body won’t allow it. I watch in horror as my Mr. Darcy begins to transform into Tom Buchanan . . .
“No,” Zed responds.
Hardin sits down next to me but keeps his glassy eyes focused on Zed. I look down at the bottle, which is at least a fourth gone. I pray that Hardin has not consumed all of it tonight, within the last hour and a half.
“Yeah, it is. I’m not stupid. You want her; Molly told me everything you said before.”
“Leave it alone, Hardin,” Zed growls, only egging Hardin on. “Your first problem is talking to Molly.”
“ ‘Oh, Tessa is so beautiful, Tessa is so sweet! Tessa is too good for Hardin! Tessa should be with me!’ ” Hardin mocks.
What?
Zed avoids looking at me. “Shut the fuck up, Hardin.”
“Hear that, babe? Zed thought he could actually have you.” Hardin laughs.
“Stop it, Hardin,” I say and get up from the couch.
Zed looks humiliated. I shouldn’t have asked him to drive me home. Did he really say those things about me? I had assumed the way he acted toward me had to do with shame over the bet, but now I’m not so sure.
“Look at her, I bet you’re thinking about it right now . . . aren’t you?” Hardin taunts him. Zed glares at Hardin and sets his drink on the table. “You will never have her, kid, so give it up. No one will have her except me, I’m the only one who will ever fuck her. The only one who will know how good it feels to have her—”
“Stop it!” I yell. “What the hell is wrong with you!”
“Nothing, I’m just telling him how it is,” Hardin answers.
“You’re being cruel,” I tell him. “And disrespectful to me!” I turn to Zed. “I really think you should go.” Zed looks at Hardin, then back to me. “I’m fine,” I assure him.
I don’t know what will happen, but I know it won’t be as bad as what will occur if he stays. “Please,” I beg.
Finally Zed nods. “Fine, I’ll go. He needs to get his shit together. Both of you do.”
“You heard her, get the fuck out. Don’t be too sad, though, she doesn’t want me either.” Hardin takes another drink. “She likes those clean-cut pretty boys.”
My heart sinks even lower, and I know I’m in for a long night. I don’t know if I should be afraid, but I’m not. Well . . . a little, but I’m not leaving.
“Out,” Hardin repeats, pointing, and Zed heads for the door.
Once Zed is no longer in the apartment, Hardin locks the door and turns to face me. “You’re lucky I didn’t beat his ass for bringing you here. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I agree. Arguing with him doesn’t seem like a good idea.
“Why did you even come here?”
“I live here.”
“Not for long.” He pours more alcohol.
“What?” The air leaves my lungs. “You’re going to kick me out?”
When the glass is full, he cocks one eye at me. “No, you’ll leave on your own eventually.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Maybe your new lover has room at his place. The two of you looked really nice together.” The hateful way he’s speaking to me takes me back to the beginning of our relationship, and I don’t like it.
“Hardin, please stop saying those things. I don’t even know him. And I’m incredibly sorry for what I did.”
“I will say what I want, just the way you do whatever the fuck you want.”
“I made a mistake, and I’m sorry, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat me so cruelly and drink like this. I was so drunk, and I really thought something happened with you and that girl, I didn’t know what to think. I’m so sorry, I’d never hurt you purposely.” I say it all as fast as I can, with as much emphasis as possible, but he isn’t listening.
“You are still talking?” he snaps.
I sigh and chew on my cheek. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. “I’m going to go to bed and we can talk when you aren’t so drunk.”
He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t even look at me, so I take off my shoes and walk into the bedroom. As soon as I go to close the door, I hear glass shatter. When I rush into the living room, the wall is wet and glass litters the floor. I watch helplessly as he grabs the other two glasses and slams them against the wall. He takes one last swig from the bottle and then uses all of his strength to shatter it against the wall.
chapter sixty-three
TESSA
He grabs the lamp off the table, causing the cord to rip out of the wall before smashing it on the floor. Then he grabs a vase and breaks it against the brick. Why is his first instinct to break everything in sight?
“Stop it!” I scream. “Hardin, you’re going to break all of our stuff! Please stop it!”
“This is your fault, Tessa! You fucking caused this!” he shouts back and grabs another vase. I scurry into the living room and snatch the object from his hand before he can break it.
“I know it is! Please just talk to me,” I beg. I can’t hold my tears back any longer. “Please, Hardin.”
“You fucked up, Tessa, so badly!” His fist slams against the wall.
I knew this was coming, and honestly, I’m surprised it took this long. I’m thankful he chose the drywall to hit—the brick surely would have damaged his hand much worse.
“Just leave me alone, dammit! Go away!” He paces back and forth before slamming both palms against the wall.
“I love you,” I blurt. I need to try to calm him, but he’s just so drunk and intimidating.
“Well, you don’t act like it! You kissed another fucking guy! Then you bring Zed to my fucking house!”
My heart lurches at the mention of Zed’s name. Hardin humiliated him. “I know . . . I’m sorry.” I fight the urge to call him out for being a hypocrite. Yes, I know what I did was wrong, so wrong—but I have forgiven him for hurting me repeatedly.
“You know how fucking crazy, how absolutely fucking mad it makes me to see you with anyone else, and you go and do this shit!” The veins in his neck are turning a deep purple, and he’s beginning to resemble a monster.
“I said I’m sorry, Hardin.” I speak as softly and slowly as I can manage. “What more can I say? I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
He tugs at his hair. “Sorry doesn’t erase the image from my mind. It’s all I can see.”
I walk toward him and stand directly in front of him. He reeks of whiskey. “Then look at me, look at me.” I put my hands on his face, directing his gaze.
“You kissed him, you kissed someone else.” His voice is much lower than it was seconds ago.
“I know I did, and I’m so sorry, Hardin. I wasn’t thinking. You know how irrational I can be.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
“I know, baby, I know.” I’m hoping those words will soften him.
“It hurts,” he says, though his bloodshot eyes have lost their edge. “I knew better than to have a girlfriend, not that I ever wanted one, but this is what happens when people date . . . or get married. This type of shit is why I need to be alone. I don’t want to go through this.” He pulls away from me.
My chest aches because he sounds like a child, a lonely, sad child. I can’t help but picture Hardin as a child, hiding away as his parents fight over his father’s alcohol abuse. “Hardin, please forgive me. It won’t happen again, I will never do anything like this again.”
“It doesn’t matter, Tess, one of us will. That’s what people do when they love each other. They hurt each other, then break up or get divorced. I don’t want that for us, for you.”
I step closer to him. “That won’t happen with us. We’re different.”
He shakes his head lightly. “It happens with everyone; look at our parents.
”
“Our parents just married the wrong people, that’s all. Look at Karen and your dad.” I’m relieved that he’s being much calmer now.
“They’ll get divorced, too.”
“No, Hardin. I don’t think they will.”
“I do. Marriage is such a fucked-up concept: ‘Hey, I sort of like you, so let’s move in together and sign some paperwork promising to never leave each other, even though we won’t stick to it anyway.’ Why would anyone do that willingly? Why would you want to be tied down to one person forever?”
I’m not mentally prepared to process what he’s just said to me. He doesn’t see a future with me? He’s only saying this because he’s drunk. Right?
“Do you really want me to go? Is that what you want, to end this now?” I ask, looking straight into his eyes. He doesn’t answer me. “Hardin?”
“No . . . fuck . . . no, Tessa. I love you. I love you so fucking much, but you . . . what you did was so wrong. You took every single fear that I have and brought them to life in one action.” His eyes begin to water, and my chest begins to cave in.
“I know I did, I feel terrible for hurting you.”
He looks around the room, and I can see in his eyes that everything we’ve built here was him trying to prove himself to me. “You should be with someone like Noah,” he says.
“I don’t want to be with anyone except you.” I wipe my eyes.
“I’m afraid you will.”
“Afraid I’ll what? Leave you for Noah?”
“Not him exactly, but someone like him.”
“I won’t. Hardin, I love you. No one else, I love you. I love everything about you, please stop doubting yourself.” It hurts me to think that he feels this way.
“Can you honestly tell me that you didn’t start seeing me to piss off your mum?”
“What?” I say, but he just watches me and waits for an answer. “No, of course not. My mother has nothing to do with us. I fell in love with you because . . . well, because I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t help it. I tried not to because of what my mother would think, but I never had a choice. I’ve always loved you, whether I wanted to or not.”