by Anna Todd
Fuck, I was such a prick.
I still am.
“It’s fine, just don’t mess with my work shit. I don’t . . .” I couldn’t come up with an excuse as to why, because I hadn’t stopped her in the past. Whenever I came across a draft that I knew she would like, I would share it with her. She loved when I did that, and there I was scolding her for doing it now.
“Okay.” She turned away from me and started to pull the ornaments off the hideous tree.
I stared at her back for a few minutes, wondering why I was so angry. If she read what I was writing, how would she feel? Would she like it? Or would she be appalled and throw a fit? I didn’t know, and I still don’t, which is why she still has no clue about it to this day.
“Okay? That’s all you have to say?” I picked at her, wanting a fight. Fighting was better than ignoring; shouts were better than silence.
“I won’t mess with your things anymore,” she said without turning to look at me. “I didn’t know you would be so upset.”
“I . . .” I struggled to find something to fight about. Then I just went for the bone. “Why are you even with me?” I asked roughly. “After everything that happened—is it the drama that you like?”
“What?” She spun around, a small snowflake ornament in her hands. “Why are you starting a fight with me? I said I wouldn’t touch your things anymore.”
“I’m not starting a fight,” I lied. “I just want to know, because it seems like you are addicted to the drama and ups and downs more than anything.” I knew it wasn’t fair to say, but I said it anyway. I was in a mood and wanted her to join me.
She stepped toward me, dropping the ornament into the box next to the tree. “You know that isn’t true. I love you, even when you are looking for a fight with me. I hate the drama; you know that. I love you for you, end of story.” She leaned up on her toes to kiss my cheek, and I wrapped my arms around her.
“Why do you love me, then? I do nothing for you,” I argued weakly. The scene I’d caused at Vance’s earlier that day was fresh in my mind.
She took a patient breath and rested her head against my chest. “This”—she tapped her index finger over my heart—“that’s why. Now please stop trying to fight me. I have a paper to work on, and this tree won’t put itself away.”
She was so gentle with me, so understanding, even when I didn’t deserve it.
“I love you,” I said into her hair and moved my hands to her hips. She molded into me, letting me lift her into my arms, and she wrapped her legs around my waist as I carried her across the living room to the couch.
“I love you, always. Don’t doubt me, I will always love you,” she assured me, her mouth against mine.
I undressed her slowly, savoring every inch of her sexy curves. I loved the way her eyes went wide as I rolled the condom on. That same afternoon she had been nervous about fucking while on her period, but her chest was moving up and down with rapid jerks as I began to stroke myself in front of her. Impatient breaths and a small whine was all it took for me to stop teasing her. I moved between her thighs and pushed into her slowly. She was so wet and tight, I lost myself in her and I still can’t remember how that damn tree got stored away.
I HAVE BEEN DOING THIS too much lately, dwelling on happy memories from my time with her. My hands are shaking, gripping the steering wheel as I pull myself from my mind; her moans and whimpers fade away as I force myself back to the present.
I’m waiting in a slow line of traffic, only a few miles away from Tessa. I need to solidify my plan and make sure her ass is on that plane tonight. It’s a late flight, not departing until nine, so she will have plenty of time to make it to Heathrow. Kimberly will take her there; I know she will. My head still hurts—the liquor is making a slow departure from my body, and I still feel a little tipsy. Not so much so that I can’t drive, but my mind isn’t all there.
“Hardin!” a familiar voice says. The voice is muffled by my window, so I quickly roll it down. Every time I turn around, someone from my past is there, calling my name.
“Holy shit!” I yell to the car next to me. My old friend Mark is in the next lane. If this isn’t a sign from above, I don’t know what is.
“Pull over!” he shouts back, a wide grin spreading across his face.
I pull Vance’s rental into the lot of an ice-cream shop, and he parks next to me. He’s out of his piece-of-shit car before I am and rushes over to yank my door open.
“You’re back and you didn’t even tell me?” he yells, patting me on the shoulder. “And, damn, tell me this Beemer is a rental, or did you get rich on me?”
I roll my eyes. “Long story, but it’s a rental.”
“Are you back for good, or what?” His brown hair is cropped short now, but his eyes are just as glazed over as they always were.
“Yeah, I’m back for good,” I answer, settling it. I’m staying here and she’s going back, simple as that.
He studies my face. “Where are your fucking rings? You took them out?”
“Yeah, I got sick of them.” I shrug, but examine his face. When he turns his head a little, the light catches two little studs beneath his lips. Damn, the kid got snakebites.
“Damn, Scott, you look so different. It’s fucking crazy. It’s been, what, two years?” He throws his hands up. “Three? Hell, I’ve been high for the last ten years, so I couldn’t tell you.” He laughs and digs into his pocket to pull out a pack of smokes.
I decline when he offers me one, which earns me a raised brow. “What, you like straight edge now?” he accuses.
“No, I just don’t want a fucking cigarette,” I snap.
He laughs the way he always did when I would get this way. He was always the leader of our little group of delinquents, older than me by a year, but enough that I always looked up to him in a way and wanted to be like him. That’s why when an even older guy named James came along and he and Mark started the games, I jumped right in. It didn’t bother me the way they treated girls, even when they taped them without their knowledge.
“You’re a bitch now, aren’t you?” He smiles, his lit cigarette between his teeth.
“Fuck off. You’re high right now, aren’t you?” I knew he would always remain this way, always high and stuck in his glory days of fucking loads of chicks and staying high.
“Nah, I’m coming off of a long night, though.” He grins, obviously proud of himself as he remembers whatever, or whoever, he did last night. “Where you headed now? You staying at your mum’s?”
My chest tightens at the mention of my mum and the house that I burned to the ground. I can feel the hot smoke on my cheeks and see the bright flames swallowing the house when I looked back before climbing into the car with Tessa. “No, I’m staying between places.”
“Oh, got it.” He doesn’t get it, though. “If you need a place to crash, you can stay at my place. James is my roommate now—he’d get a kick out of seeing your grown ass, too. All Americanized and shit.”
I can hear Tessa’s voice in my head now, begging me not to go down this familiar, easy road, but I ignore her protests and nod at Mark. “I need a favor, actually.”
“I can find you anything you need—James sells now!” Mark responds with some pride.
I roll my eyes. “That isn’t what I mean. I need you to follow me to my hotel so I can drop something off, then take me to Gabriel’s to get my car.”
I will have to extend the rental time, if they’ll allow it. I choose to ignore that an entire apartment and a car are back in Washington. I’ll figure that shit out later.
“Then you’ll come to my flat?” He stops. “Wait, who are you dropping shit off to?” Even high, he didn’t miss that detail.
There is no fucking way in hell I’m telling Mark about Tessa, no fucking way. “Just some chick.” I feel the burn in my throat as I lie about who Tessa is to me, but I need to protect her from this.
He walks back over to his car, pausing before he gets in. “She hot? I can wait
outside if you need to fuck her again. Or maybe she’ll let me—”
My vision goes red and I take a few breaths to calm down. “No. Fuck no. Not happening. You’ll stay in the car. I’m not even going inside.” When he doesn’t look convinced, I add, “I mean it. If you get out of the fucking car and go anywhere near—”
“Dude, chill the fuck out! I’ll stay in the car!” he shouts, and holds up his hands like I’m a cop.
He’s still laughing and shaking his head as he follows me out of the parking lot and back onto the street.
chapter eleven
TESSA
I check my phone where it’s plugged into the wall. “He’s been gone for over an hour.” I try to call him again.
“He’s probably just taking his time,” Kimberly says, but I can see the doubt in her eyes as she tries to comfort me.
“He’s not answering. If he went back to that bar . . .” I stand up and being pacing.
“He’ll probably pull up any minute.” She opens the door and peeks out, looking left and right, then down. She says my name quietly, but her voice sounds off. Something’s not right.
“What? What is it?” Is Hardin in the hallway? I zip over to where Kimberly is just as she bends down . . . and grabs my suitcase.
Dread takes over, bringing me to my knees. I barely feel Kimberly’s arms around me as I open the front pocket of the suitcase.
An airline ticket, a single airline ticket, is there. Next to it, Hardin’s key chain with the keys to his car and apartment still attached.
I knew this was coming. I knew he would back away from me the moment he could. Hardin can’t handle any type of emotional trauma, he just isn’t equipped. I could have, should have, been preparing for this, so why does this ticket feel so heavy in my hand and my chest feel like it’s on fire? I hate him for doing this to me, so quickly and out of anger, and I hate myself for not preparing for this. I should be tough right now; I should pick up the tiny scrap of dignity I haven’t lost and stand tall. I should take this ticket, grab my damn suitcase, and get the hell out of London. That’s what any self-respecting woman would do. It’s simple, isn’t it? I keep this thought in my head as my knees buckle below me, my hands shake, covering the embarrassment on my face as I break into pieces over this man, again.
“He’s an ass,” Kimberly insults Hardin, as if I didn’t already know he’s an asshole. “You know he will come back; he always does,” she says against my hair. I look at her, and I can see the anger and the protective-friend threat in her eyes.
I gently pull myself out of her arms and shake my head. “I’m okay. I’m fine. I’m okay,” I chant, more so to myself than to Kim.
“You aren’t,” she corrects me, tucking a wild strand of my hair behind my ear.
I get a glimpse of Hardin’s hands doing that exact gesture, and I pull away. “I need a shower,” I say to my friend, just before I lose it.
NO, NOT BROKEN. I’m not broken; I’m defeated. What I feel right now is purely defeat. I’ve spent months and months fighting against the inevitable, pushing against a current that was much too big to brave alone, and now I’ve been swallowed into it with no lifeboats in sight.
“Tessa? Tessa, are you okay?” Kimberly yells from the other side of the bathroom door.
“I’m fine,” I manage, the words sounding as weak as I feel. If I don’t feel an ounce of strength, I can attempt to hide some of the weakness.
The water is cold now, it’s been cold for minutes . . . maybe even an hour. I haven’t the slightest idea of how much time I’ve been in here, crouched down on the floor of the shower, my knees folded against my chest, the cold water spraying down on me. It was borderline painful a while ago, but my body went numb a few Kimberly checkups ago.
“You have to get out of that shower. Don’t think I won’t break the door down.”
I don’t doubt for a second that she would do just that. I’ve ignored that threat a few times already, but this time I reach up and turn the shower off. Still, I make no move to leave my spot on the floor.
Seemingly satisfied that the water’s gone off, I don’t hear from Kimberly for another little while. But the next time she pounds, I call back to her, “I’m getting out.”
By the time I stand up, my legs are wobbly and my hair is almost dry. I dig into my bag and go through the mechanics of pulling on my jeans, one leg, then the next, lift arms above head, pull shirt down over stomach. I feel like a robot, and when I wipe my hand across the mirror, I see that I look like one, too.
How many times will he do this? I silently ask my reflection.
No, how many times will I let him do this? That’s the real question.
“No more,” I say out loud to the stranger looking back at me. I will find him, this last time, and only for the sake of his family. I will drag his ass out of London and do what I should have done a long time ago.
chapter twelve
HARDIN
Damn, Scott! Look at you—you’re a fucking mammoth!” James stands up from the couch and moves toward me. It’s true. Compared to both him and Mark, I’m fucking huge. “What are you, six foot fucking ten?” James’s eyes are glassy and bloodshot. It’s barely one in the afternoon.
“Six-three,” I correct, and receive the same friendly greeting Mark gave, a firm hand on my shoulder.
“This is fucking awesome! We need to get the word out that you’re back. Everyone’s still here, man.” James rubs his hands together like he’s plotting something big, and I don’t even want to know what that might be.
Has Tessa found the bag outside of the door yet? What did she think about it? Did she cry? Or is she beyond that now?
I sure as hell don’t want the answer to that question. I don’t want to picture her face when she opened the door. I don’t even want to think about the way she felt when she saw only one ticket stuffed into the front pocket of that suitcase. All my clothes have been removed from it and tossed into the backseat of my rental.
I know her well enough to know that she’s going to expect a goodbye from me. She’s going to try to find me before she gives up. But after her one last effort, she will give up. She won’t have a choice, because she will never be able to find me before the flight, and by tomorrow she’ll be far, far gone from me.
“Dude!” Mark’s voice is loud and his hand is waving in front of my face. “Are you fucking zoning out?”
“My bad,” I say with a shrug. But then it occurs to me: if Tessa gets lost in London looking for me, what will I do? Anything?
Mark puts his arm around me, pulling me into the conversation he and James have broken into as they decide who to invite over. They name loads of familiar names and a few that I haven’t heard and start making phone calls for a midday party, barking out times and liquor orders.
I pull away and go into the kitchen to look for a glass for some water, looking around the apartment for the first time since I walked through the door. It’s a fucking mess. It looks the way the frat house did every Saturday and Sunday morning. Our apartment never looked this way, not when Tessa was around, at least. The counters were never covered in old pizza boxes, and the tables were free of beer bottles and bongs. I’m backsliding, and I fucking know it.
Speaking of bongs, I don’t even have to look over at Mark and James to know what they’re doing now. I hear the bubbling noise of the water in the bong, then the distinct smell of pot starts filling the place.
Masochist that I am, I pull my phone out of my pocket and turn the power back on. The picture I have set as my wallpaper is my new favorite of Tess. For now, at least. My favorite changes every damn week, but this one is fucking perfection. Her blond hair is down, hanging over her shoulders, and the light is shining on her, making her glow. A true smile fills her entire face, and her eyes are screwed shut, her nose crinkled in the most adorable fucking way. She was laughing at me, scolding me, really, for smacking her ass in front of Kimberly, and I’d snapped the picture just as she burst into laughter after
I whispered to her the other, much-dirtier things I could do in front of her obnoxious friend.
I wander back into the living room, and James snatches my phone from my hand. “Give me some of whatever you’re on!”
I’m quick to take it back before he can get a glance at the picture.
“Touchy, touchy,” James mocks me as I change the background. No need to fuel these fuckers.
“I invited Janine,” Mark says, sharing a laugh with James.
“I don’t know why you two are laughing.” I point to Mark. “She’s your sister.” Then I point at James. “And you fucked her, too.” Not like this is surprising; Mark’s sister is known for fucking every single one of her little brother’s friends.
“Fuck you, man!” James takes another hit from the bong and passes it to me.
Tessa would fucking kill me. She would be so disappointed; she doesn’t approve of me drinking, let alone smoking pot.
“Hit it or pass it,” Mark urges.
“If Janine is coming over, you’ll need it. She’s still hot as fuck,” James tells me, earning a glare from Mark and a laugh from me.
Hours pass this way, smoking, dwelling, drinking, dwelling, smoking, and before I know it, the place is full of people, including the girl in question.
chapter thirteen
TESSA
I may not have much, but I still have a little pride, and I would rather face Hardin by myself and have this conversation one-on-one. I know exactly what he’s going to do. He’s going to tell me that I am too good for him and that he is no good for me. He’s going to say something hurtful, and I will try to convince him otherwise.
I know Kimberly must think I’m a fool for chasing after him after his cold dismissal, but I love him, and this is what you do when you love someone: you fight for him—you chase after him when you know he needs you. You help him fight the battle against himself, and you never give up on him, even when he gives up on himself.