After Ever Happy (After #4)

by Anna Todd

  I ignore her despite the burning embarrassment I feel. “Back to Trevor,” I say, hiding as much of my face behind my glass as I can manage.

  “I knew he would be a freak. Men who wear suits every day are always freaks.”

  “Only in those smutty novels,” I counter, thinking of a book I’ve been planning to read but haven’t gotten around to yet.

  “Those stories have to come from somewhere, don’t they?” She winks at me. “I keep walking by Trevor’s office hoping to hear him nailing her, but no such luck . . . yet.”

  The ridiculousness of this entire night has made me feel light in a way I haven’t felt in so long. I try to grasp this feeling and hold it as tightly to my chest as I can—I don’t want it to slip away.

  “Who knew Trevor was such a freak, yeah?” She wiggles her eyebrows, and I shake my head.

  “Fucking Trevor,” I say, and wait in silence as Kimberly bursts into loud laughter.

  “Fucking Trevor!” she screeches, and I join her, thinking of the source of the nickname as we take turns repeating it in our best impressions of its creator.

  chapter forty-eight

  HARDIN

  This day has been long. Too damn long, and I’m ready to sleep. After the heart-to-heart with Ken, I’m worn-out. That, followed by Sarah, Sonya, S’whocares—whatever the hell her name is—and Landon eye-fucking her across the dinner table, has bored me to death.

  Even though I wish Tessa hadn’t left without telling me, I can’t say that out loud because she doesn’t owe me any type of explanation.

  I played nice, the way I promised Tessa I could, and ate my dinner in silence as Karen and my dad, or whoever he is, watched me with caution, waiting for me to explode or ruin their dinner somehow.

  But I didn’t. I stayed quiet and chewed each bite. I even kept my elbows off the ugly-ass table-cover thing that Karen thinks adds a nice pastel spring touch or some shit, but it doesn’t. It’s hideous, and someone should burn it when she’s not looking.

  I felt a little better—awkward as fuck—but a little better after talking with my dad. I find it amusing that I keep defaulting to calling Ken my dad now whereas when I was a teen I could barely speak his name without scowling or wishing he hadn’t left just so I could punch him. Now that I understand—well, somewhat understand—how he felt and why he did what he did, some of the anger I held inside me for so long has sort of fizzled.

  It was weird, though, feeling that slip from my body. I’ve heard it explained in novels—forgiveness, they call it—but I’ve never felt it until tonight. I’m not quite convinced that I like the feeling, but I’ll admit it helps distract me from the constant ache of missing Tessa. Sort of.

  I feel better . . . happier? I don’t know, but I can’t stop thinking of the future now. A future where Tessa and I shop for carpet and shelves, or whatever married people do. The only married people I know who can tolerate each other are Ken and Karen, and I have no clue what they do together. Aside from making babies in their forties. I immaturely cringe at the thought and pretend that I wasn’t just thinking about their sex life.

  Truth be told, thinking of the future is much more fun than I ever imagined. I never expected anything from the future, or the present, before. I always knew I would be alone, so I didn’t bother entertaining stupid plans or wishes. Up until eight months ago, I didn’t know there could be someone like Tessa. I had no clue that this obnoxious blonde was walking around waiting to turn my entire life upside down by driving me absolutely insane and making me love her more than I love breathing.

  Hell, if I had known she was out there, I wouldn’t have wasted my time fucking every chick that I could. I wasn’t running on anything before; no driving force with blue-gray eyes was helping me, guiding me through my fucked-up life, so I made too many mistakes, and now I have to work harder than most at trying to right those wrongs.

  If I could take it back, I wouldn’t have touched another girl. Not one. And if I had known just how good touching Tessa would be, I would have been preparing myself, counting down the days until she barged into my room at that frat house, touching all my books and things after I explicitly told her not to.

  The only thing that’s keeping me remotely in control of myself is the hope that she will come around eventually. She will see that this time I’m not going to take my words back. I will marry her ass, even if I have to drag her down the aisle.

  This is another of our problems, these pushy thoughts. As much as I’ll deny them to her face, I can’t help but smile now at the vision of her in a white dress, scowling and yelling at me, as I literally drag her by her feet down a carpeted aisle while some bullshit song is played on a harp or some other instrument that no one uses outside of weddings and funerals.

  If I had her number, I would text her just to make sure she’s okay. She doesn’t want me to have it, though. It took a lot of control not to snatch Landon’s phone from his pocket and just steal it after dinner.

  I’m lying in this bed when I should be driving to Seattle. Should be, could be, need to be, but can’t. I need to give her a little space or she’ll pull farther away from me. I hold my phone up in the dark and scroll through the pictures of her. If images of memories are all I will have for a while, I’m going to need more pictures. Seven hundred and twenty-two isn’t enough.

  Instead of continuing down the path of an obsessive stalker, I climb out of bed and pull on some pants. I don’t think Landon or pregnant Karen would appreciate seeing me naked. Well, maybe they would. I smile at my thoughts and take a moment to come up with my plan. Landon will be stubborn, I know it, but he’s easy to break. By the second embarrassing joke I crack about his new crush, he’ll be shouting Tessa’s number and blushing like a kindergartener.

  I knock twice, giving the kid fair warning before pushing the door open. He’s asleep, lying on his back with a book on his chest. Fucking Harry Potter. Should have known . . .

  I hear a noise and see a little flash. As if a sign from above, his phone screen lights up, and I grab it from his nightstand. Tessa’s name and the beginning of a text: Hey Landon, you up? Because . . .

  The preview doesn’t show the rest. I need to see the rest.

  I circle my neck, trying not to allow the jealousy to take over. Why is she texting him so late?

  I try to guess his pass code, but he’s harder to read than Tessa. Hers was so obvious and comical, really. I knew that, like me, she would be afraid to forget the thing and choose 1234. That’s our password for everything. PIN numbers, pay-per-view code on our cable box, anything that requires numbers, that’s what we always use.

  See, we are practically fucking married anyway. We could be wed together at the same time some hacker steals our identities—ha.

  I smack Landon with a pillow from his bed, and he groans. “Wake up, dickhead.”

  “Go away,”

  “I need Tessa’s number.” Smack.

  “No.”

  Smack. Smack. Harder smack.

  “Ugh!” he whines, sitting up. “Fine. I’ll give you the number.”

  He reaches for his phone, which I place in his hand while watching the numbers he presses, just in case. He hands me the phone once it’s unlocked. I thank him and type her number in my phone. The relief I feel as I press save is pathetic, but I don’t care.

  I smack Landon again with the pillow, just for good measure, and leave the room.

  I think I hear him cussing at me until I close the door, laughing. I could get used to this feeling, this . . . hope-like feeling as I type in a simple good-night text to my girl and wait anxiously for her to reply. Everything seems to be getting better for me, finally, and the last step is Tessa’s forgiveness. I just need a sliver of the hope she has always had for me to return.

  Harrrdin? the message reads.

  Fuck, I was beginning to think she was going to ignore me.

  No, not Harrrdin. Just Hardin. I decide to start the conversation with teasing even though I want to beg her to
come back from Seattle, or not to freak out if I show up there in the middle of the night.

  Sorry, I can’t type on this keyboard. It’s too touchy.

  I can picture her lying in her bed in Seattle, squinting and frowning as she uses her index finger to tap each letter.

  Yeah, iPhones huh? Your old keyboard was massive so I can see why you are having a problem.

  She responds with a smiley face, and I’m impressed and amused by her newfound use of the emojis. I fucking hate them and have always refused to use them, but here I am rushing to download the shit so I can respond with a matching smiley face.

  You still there? she asks just as I send a matching face.

  Yeah, why are you up so late. I saw that you texted Landon. I shouldn’t have sent that.

  A few seconds pass, and she sends an image of a tiny wineglass. I should have known she was hanging out with Kim after all.

  Wine, huh? I send, accompanied by something that looks like a surprised face, I think. Why are there so many of these damn things? When would anyone ever need to send a picture of a tiger, for fuck’s sake?

  Being curious and a little high off the attention she’s giving me, I send the damn tiger and laugh to myself when she responds with a camel. I laugh each time she sends me a stupid little image that no one could possibly have a use for.

  I love that she caught on, that she knew I sent the tiger because it literally makes no damn sense, and now we are playing a “send the most random emoji” game, and I’m lying here in the dark, alone, laughing so hard that my stomach actually hurts.

  I ran out, she says after about five minutes of back-and-forth.

  Me too. Are you tired?

  Yes, I drank too much wine.

  Did you have fun? I’m surprised when I want her to say yes, that she did have a good time, even though I wasn’t a part of her night.

  Yes, I did. Are you okay? I hope everything went well with your father.

  It did, maybe we can talk about it when I get to Seattle? I accompany my pushy message with a heart and the picture of what looks like a skyscraper.

  Maybe.

  I’m sorry I was such a shitty boyfriend. You deserve better than me but I love you. I send the message before I can stop myself. It’s true and I just can’t help saying it now. I’ve made the mistake of keeping my feelings for her inside, and that’s why she’s so quick to doubt my promises now.

  Too much wine in my brain for this conversatoine. Christian heard Trevor having sex in his office.

  I roll my eyes at his name on my screen. Fucking Trevor. Fucking Trevor.

  That’s whatf I said. I otld Kim that sain things.

  Too many typos to read. Go to sleep, text me tomorrow, I send, then start a new message. Please. Please text me tomorrow.

  A smile creeps across my face when she sends a picture of a cell phone, a sleepy face, and that damn tiger.

  chapter forty-nine

  HARDIN

  The familiar voice of Nate echoes through the narrow hallway: “Scott!”

  Fuck. I knew I wouldn’t make it through this shit without seeing one of them. I came to campus to talk to my professors. I wanted to make sure my father could drop my last assignments off to them. Having friends, or parents, in high places really does help, and I’m given permission to miss the remainder of classes for this semester. I have been missing so many anyway, there won’t be much of a difference.

  Nate’s blond hair is longer now, pushed up into some sort of messy spike in the front. “Hey, man, I get the feeling you were trying to avoid me just now,” he says, looking me straight in the face.

  “Perceptive, aren’t you?” I shrug, no point in lying.

  “I always hated your big words.” He laughs.

  I could have done without seeing him today, or ever again. It’s nothing against him; I always sort of liked him more than any of my other friends, but I’m over this shit.

  He takes my silence for another opening to speak. “I haven’t seen you on campus in forever. Aren’t you graduating soon?”

  “Yeah. Middle of next month.”

  He follows next to me at a slow pace. “Logan is, too. You’re going to walk, right?”

  “Hell no.” I laugh. “Did you really just ask me that?”

  Tessa’s scowl flashes in my head, and I bite down on my lip to keep a smile away. I know she wants me to walk at my graduation, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to.

  Maybe I should at least consider it?

  “Okay . . .” he says. Then he points to my hand. “What’s with the cast?”

  I lift it a little and look at it. “Long story.” One that I’m not going to tell you.

  See, Tessa, I have learned some self-control.

  Even though I’m talking to you inside of my head and you’re not even here.

  Okay, so maybe I’m crazy still, but I’m being nice-ish to people . . . You would be proud.

  Fuck, I’ve got it so bad.

  Nate shakes his head and holds the door open for me as we walk out of the administration building. “So, how are things?” he asks, always having been the most talkative of the bunch.

  “Fine.”

  “How’s she?”

  My boots stop moving against the concrete sidewalk, and he takes a step back, holding his hands in the air in defense.

  “I’m only asking as a friend. I haven’t seen either of you, and you stopped taking our calls a while ago. Zed’s the only one that talks to Tessa.”

  Is he trying to piss me off? “Zed doesn’t talk to her,” I snap, annoyed that I let Nate and his mention of Zed get under my skin so easily.

  Nate lifts his hand to his forehead, a nervous gesture. “I wasn’t saying it like that, but he told us about her dad and he said he was at the funeral so . . .”

  “So nothing. He’s nothing to her. Move on.” This conversation is going nowhere and I’m reminded why I don’t waste my time hanging out with any of them anymore.

  “All right.” If I look over at him, I know he will be rolling his eyes. But then I’m surprised when he says with a hint of emotion, “I never did anything to you, you know.” When I turn to him, sure enough his expression matches his voice.

  “I’m not trying to be a dick,” I tell him, feeling a tiny bit guilty. He’s a nice guy, nicer than me and most of our friends. His friends, not mine anymore.

  He looks a little past me. “Seems like it.”

  “Well, I’m not. I’m just over the bullshit. You know?” I face him. “I’m over all the shit. The parties, the drinking, the smoking, the hookups—I’m just over all of it. So I’m not trying to be an asshole toward you personally, but I’m just over all that shit.”

  Nate pulls a cigarette from his pocket, and the only noise between us is the click of his lighter. It feels so long ago that I would walk around campus with him and the rest of our group. It feels so long ago that talking shit about people and nursing hangovers was my morning routine. It feels so long ago that my life revolved around anything other than her.

  “I get what you’re saying,” he says after taking a drag. “I can’t believe you’re saying it, but I do get it, and I hope you know that I’m sorry for my part in the shit with Steph and Dan. I knew they were up to something, but I had no clue what.”

  The last thing I want to think about is Steph and Dan and the shit they pulled. “Yeah, well, we could go on and on about it, but the outcome would be the same. They won’t ever be close enough to even dare to breathe the same air as Tessa.”

  “Steph is gone, anyway.”

  “Gone where?”

  “Louisiana.”

  Good. I want her as far away from Tessa as possible.

  I hope Tessa texts me soon; she sort of agreed to today, and I’m holding her to that. If she doesn’t soon, I’m sure I’ll break down and text her first. I’m trying to give her space, but our emoji conversation last night was the most fun I’ve had since . . . well, since I was inside her only hours before. I still c
an’t believe what a lucky son of a bitch I am that she allowed me near her.

  I was a dick afterward, but that’s beside the point.

  “Tristan went with her,” Nate tells me.

  The wind is picking up, and the entire campus just seems like a better fucking place now that I know Steph has left the state.

  “He’s a dumb-ass,” I say.

  “No, he’s not,” Nate says, defending his friend. “He really likes her. Well, loves her, I guess.”

  I snort. “Like I said, he’s a dumb-ass.”

  “Maybe he knows her in a way that we don’t.”

  His words make me laugh, a quiet and annoyed laugh. “What else is there to know? She’s a crazy bitch.” I can’t believe he’s actually defending Steph—well, Tristan, who is dating Steph again, despite that she’s a fucking psycho who tried to hurt Tessa.

  “I don’t know, man, but Tristan’s my boy, so I don’t judge him,” Nate says, then looks at me coolly. “Most people would probably say the same shit about you and Tessa.”

  “You better be comparing me and Steph, not Tessa and Steph.”

  “Obviously.” He rolls his eyes and ashes his cigarette beside him. “You should come with me to the house. Just for old times’ sake. There won’t be a lot of people, just a few of us.”

  “Dan?” My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out to find Tessa’s name on the screen.

  “I don’t know, but I can make sure he doesn’t come around while you’re there.”

  We are standing in the parking lot now. My car is only a few feet away, and his motorcycle is parked in the front row. I still can’t believe he hasn’t wrecked the damn thing. He dropped the piece of shit at least five times the day he got his permit for it, and I know his ass doesn’t wear a helmet while speeding across town.

  “I’m good. I have plans, anyway,” I lie as I send back a hello to Tessa. I’m hoping my plans could involve talking to Tessa for hours. I almost agreed to go by that damn frat house, but that my old “friends” still hang out with Dan reminds me exactly why I stopped hanging out with them to begin with.