After (The After Series) (5 page)

My thoughts are all over the place as I fall asleep, and images of clouded roses and angry green eyes flow through my dreams.

W
hen I wake, it takes my mind a moment to remember the events of last night that led me to this strange bedroom. Steph is still asleep, snoring unattractively with her mouth wide open. I decide to wait until I know how we are getting back to the dorms before waking her. I quickly put my shoes on, grab my purse, and step out. Should I knock on Hardin’s door or try to find Nate? Is Nate even part of the frat? I would have never guessed that Hardin would be a part of an organized social group, so maybe Nate is, too.

Stepping over sleeping bodies in the hallway, I make my way downstairs.

“Nate?” I call, hoping to hear a reply. There are at least twenty-five people sleeping in the living room alone. The floor is littered with red cups and trash, which makes it hard to navigate through the mess, but also makes me realize how clean the upstairs hallway actually was, despite the people there. When I reach the kitchen, I have to force myself not to start cleaning it up. This will take the whole house all day to clean up. I would love to see Hardin cleaning up all this trash, and as the thought goes through my head I giggle a little.

“What’s so funny?”

I turn around and find Hardin entering the kitchen, a trash bag in his hand. He sweeps his arm over the countertop, making the cups fall into the trash bag.

“Nothing,” I lie. “Does Nate live here, too?”

He ignores me and continues to clean.

“Does he?” I ask again, more impatient this time. “The sooner you tell me if Nate lives here, the sooner I can leave.”

“Okay, now you have my attention. But, no, he doesn’t live here. Does he seem like a frat boy to you?” He smirks.

“No, but neither do you,” I snap and his jaw tenses.

He moves around me and opens the cabinet next to my hip, pulling out a roll of paper towels.

“Is there a bus that runs close to here?” I ask, not expecting an answer.

“Yep, about a block away.”

I follow him around the kitchen. “Could you tell me where it is?”

“Sure. It’s about a block away.” The corners of his mouth lift, taunting me.

I roll my eyes and walk out of the kitchen. Hardin’s momentary civility last night was obviously a onetime thing and today he’ll be coming at me full force. After the night I had, I can’t stand to be around him.

I go wake up Steph, who wakes up surprisingly easily and smiles at me. I’m grateful that she’s just as ready to get out of this damned fraternity house.

“Hardin said there is a bus stop around the block,” I tell her as we walk downstairs together.

“We aren’t taking the damn bus. One of these assholes will take us back to our room. He was probably just giving you a hard time,” she says, her hand resting on my shoulder. As we enter the kitchen and find Hardin pulling some beer cans out of the oven, she’s all authority. “Hardin, you ready to take us back now? My head is pounding.”

“Yeah, sure, just give me a minute,” he says like he’s been waiting for us all along.

DURING THE DRIVE BACK
to the dorms Steph sings along to whatever metal song is playing through the speakers and Hardin rolls all the windows down, despite my polite requests to roll them up. Silent the whole way, he mindlessly drums his long fingers on the steering wheel. Not that I was paying attention.

“I’ll come by later, Steph,” he tells her as she climbs out of the passenger seat. She nods and waves as I open my door.

“Bye, Theresa,” he says with a smirk. I roll my eyes and follow Steph into the dorm.

T
he rest of the weekend goes quickly and I manage to avoid seeing Hardin. When I head out early Sunday to go shopping, I leave before he can come to the room, and I return after he’s apparently left.

The new clothes I get fill up my small dresser, but as I put them away Hardin’s obnoxious voice plays in my head:
You know we are going to a party, not church.

I suspect he’d say the same about these new outfits, but I’ve decided that I am no longer going to be going to parties with Steph, or anywhere that Hardin may be. He isn’t good company and bickering with him is exhausting.

Finally it’s Monday morning, my first day of college classes, and I couldn’t be more prepared. I wake up extra early to make sure I can take a shower—without boys around—and not be rushed. My white button-up shirt and tan pleated skirt are perfectly ironed and ready to be put on. I get dressed, pin my hair, and put my bag over my shoulder. I’m about to leave—about fifteen minutes early, to ensure that I won’t be late—when Steph’s alarm goes off. She hits the snooze button, but I wonder if I should I wake her. Her classes may start later than mine, or maybe she isn’t planning on going. The idea of missing the first day of classes stresses me out, but she is a sophomore, so maybe she has it under control.

With one last glance in the mirror, I head to my first class. Studying the campus map proves to have been a good idea, and I
find my first building within twenty minutes. When I walk into my freshman history class the room is empty, save one person.

Since this person obviously cares about being on time, too, I sit next to him. He could be my first new friend. “Where is everyone?” I ask, and he smiles. His smile alone puts me at ease.

“Probably running across campus to barely make it here on time,” he jokes, and I instantly like him. That’s exactly what I was thinking.

“I’m Tessa Young,” I say and give him a friendly smile.

“Landon Gibson,” he says with an equally adorable smile as the first one. We spend the rest of the time before class talking. I find out that he’s an English major, like me, and he has a girlfriend named Dakota. Landon doesn’t mock me or miss a beat in our easy conversation when I tell him that Noah is a grade below me. I decide now that he is someone whom I would like to see more of. As the class begins to fill, Landon and I make a point to introduce ourselves to the professor.

Afterward, as the day continues, I begin to regret taking five classes instead of four. I rush to my British Literature elective—thanking God it’s the last class of the day—and barely make it on time. I am relieved when I see Landon sitting in the front row, the seat next to him empty.

“Hey again,” he says with a smile as I sit down.

The professor begins the class, handing out the syllabus for the semester and giving a brief introduction about himself, what led to him to become a professor, and his excitement for the topic. I love that college is different from high school and the professors don’t make you stand in front of the class and introduce yourself or do any other embarrassing and unnecessary things.

In the middle of the professor explaining our reading lists, the door creaks open and I hear myself groan as Hardin stumbles into the classroom.

“Great,” I say under my breath sarcastically.

“You know Hardin?” Landon asks. Hardin must have quite the reputation around the campus if someone as sweet as Landon knows of him.

“Sort of. My roommate is friends with him. He’s not my favorite person,” I whisper.

As I do so, Hardin’s green eyes lock on mine, and I worry that he’s heard me. What would he do if he had? But, honestly, I don’t care if he did—it’s not like he isn’t aware that we don’t care for each other.

I find myself curious about what Landon knows about him, though, so I can’t help but ask, “Do you know him?”

“Yeah . . . he’s . . .” He stops talking and turns slightly to look behind us. I look up and see Hardin sliding into the desk next to me. Landon stays quiet for the rest of the class, keeping his eyes focused on the professor the entire time.

“THAT’S ALL FOR TODAY
. I will see you all again on Wednesday,” Professor Hill says and dismisses us.

“I think this will be my favorite class,” I tell Landon as we walk outside, and he agrees. But his face falls when we realize Hardin is walking next to us.

“What do you want, Hardin?” I ask, giving him a taste of his own medicine. It doesn’t work, or I don’t have the right tone for it, because all he seems is amused.

“Nothing. Nothing. I’m just so glad we have a class together,” he says mockingly and runs his hands through his hair, shaking it and pushing it up on his forehead. I notice an oddly shaped infinity symbol tattooed just above his wrist, and he lowers his hand as I try to study the surrounding ink.

“I’ll see you later, Tessa,” Landon says, excusing himself.

“You would find the lamest kid in class to befriend,” Hardin says as he watches him go.

“Don’t say that about him; he’s a sweet guy. Unlike you.” I’m shocked at my harsh words. He really brings out the worst in me.

Hardin turns back to me. “You’re becoming more feisty with each chat we have, Theresa.”

“If you call me Theresa one more time . . .” I warn and he laughs. I try to picture what he would look like without his tattoos and piercings. Even with them, he’s very attractive, but his sour personality ruins him.

We begin walking along back in the direction of my dorm and get about twenty steps when all of a sudden he shouts out, “Stop staring at me!” turns a corner, and disappears down a pathway before I can even think of a response.

A
fter several exhausting—but exciting—days, it’s finally Friday, and my first week of college is almost over. Feeling pleased with the way the week has gone overall, I plan on just watching some movies, since Steph will most likely be at a party and it’ll be quiet. Having all my classes’ syllabi really makes things easier for me, and I can do a lot of the work ahead of time. I grab my bag and leave early, stopping by the café to grab a coffee to get an extra shot of energy for the beginning of the weekend.

“Tessa, right?” a girl’s voice says behind me as I wait in line. I turn around to find the pink-haired girl from the party. Molly, I think Steph called her.

“Yeah. That’s me,” I answer and turn to face the counter, attempting to avoid further conversation.

“Are you coming to the party tonight?” she asks. She has to be mocking me, so, sighing, I turn around again and am about to shake my head no when she says, “You should, it’s going to be awesome.” She runs her tiny fingers over a large fairy tattooed on her forearm.

I pause for a moment, but do shake my head and say, “Sorry, I have plans.”

“Too bad. I know Zed wanted to see you.” At that I can’t help but laugh, but she only smiles. “What? He was talking about you just yesterday.”

“I doubt that . . . but even if he was, I have a boyfriend,” I tell her, causing her smile to grow.

“Too bad, we could have double-dated,” she says ambiguously, and I inwardly thank God when the barista calls my order. In my haste, I grab the cup too roughly and a little bit of coffee laps over the edge and burns my hand. I curse, hoping that this isn’t setting the tone for my weekend. Molly waves goodbye to me and I smile politely before I exit the shop. Her comments replay in my mind;
Double-date with who? Her and Hardin? Are they actually dating?
As nice and attractive as Zed may be, Noah is my boyfriend and I would never do anything to hurt him. I know that we haven’t spoken much this week, but that’s only because we have both been so busy. I make a mental note to call him tonight and catch up, see how he’s been doing without me.

After my coffee burn and awkward encounter with Miss Pink Hair, my day improves. Landon and I had made plans to start meeting at the coffee shop before the classes we have together, so he’s leaning against the brick wall, and as I walk up to him he greets me with a big smile.

“I’m leaving about thirty minutes into class today. I forgot to tell you that I’m flying back to my hometown for the weekend,” he says. I’m happy for him to visit Dakota, but I hate the idea of sitting through British Literature without him, and
with
Hardin, if he shows. He was absent Wednesday, not that I was paying attention.

I turn to him. “So soon? The semester just started.”

“It’s her birthday and I promised her months back that I would be there.” He shrugs.

IN CLASS,
Hardin takes his seat next to me but doesn’t say a word, not even when, as promised, Landon leaves thirty minutes into class, which suddenly makes me even more aware of Hardin’s presence beside me.

“Monday we begin our weeklong discussion of Jane Austen’s
Pride and Prejudice
,” Professor Hill announces as class ends. I don’t hide my excitement, and I’m fairly sure that I just let out a squeal. I have read that novel at least ten times and it’s one of my favorites.

Although he hadn’t really said anything to me all during class, Hardin walks up close beside me. I swear I could almost predict what he’s going to say with that deadpan look in his eyes.

“Let me guess, you are just madly in love with Mr. Darcy.”

“Every woman who has read the novel is,” I say without meeting his eyes. We reach the intersection and I look both ways before crossing the street.

“Of course you do,” he laughs, continuing to follow me along the busy sidewalk.

“I’m sure you aren’t able to comprehend Mr. Darcy’s appeal.” My mind goes to the massive collection of novels in Hardin’s room. They couldn’t possibly be his.
Could they?

“A man who is rude and intolerable being made into a romantic hero? It’s ridiculous. If Elizabeth had any sense, she would have told him to fuck off from the beginning.”

I laugh at his choice of words but cover my mouth, stopping myself. I was actually enjoying our little banter, and his presence, but it would only be a matter of time—three minutes, if I’m so lucky—until he says something hurtful. Looking up, I meet his dimpled grin and can’t help but admire his good looks. Piercings and all.

“So you do agree that Elizabeth is an idiot?” He raises his eyebrow.

“No, she is one of the strongest, most complex characters ever written,” I say in her defense, using the words from one of my favorite movies.