After We Collided (The After Series) (45 page)

“Oh.” I’m not convinced by his explanation, but I’m looking forward to seeing him try to do yoga, and the extra time with him doesn’t hurt either.

In the center of the room, the instructor sits on a bright yellow mat. Her curly brown hair piled on top of her head and her flower-print shirt make a welcoming first impression.

“Where is everyone?” Hardin asks me as I grab a purple mat from the shelving unit on the wall.

“We’re early.” I hand him a blue one, and he examines it before tucking it under his arm.

“Of course we are.” He smiles sarcastically and follows me to the front of the room.

I begin to lay my mat down directly in front of the instructor, but Hardin grabs my arm to stop me. “No way, we’re sitting in the back,” he says, and I see the instructor’s face alight with a slight smile at his words.

“What? Sitting in the back of the class for
yoga
? No, I always sit in the front.”

“Exactly. We’re sitting in the back,” he repeats and takes my mat from my hands to head to the back of the room.

“If you are going to be grumpy, you shouldn’t stay,” I whisper to him.

“I’m not grumpy.”

The instructor waves and introduces herself to us as Marla when we take a seat on our mats, and afterward Hardin claims with certainty that she’s high, which makes me giggle. This is going to be a fun class.

However, as the room fills with girls in tight yoga pants and tiny tank tops who all seem to glance or stare at Hardin, I get steadily less Zen. Of course he’s the only male. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice the heaps of female attention he’s receiving. Either that, or he’s just very used to it—that has to be it. He gets attention like this all of the time. It’s not like I blame the girls, but he’s my boyfriend and they need to look elsewhere. I know some of the girls are looking at him because of his tattoos and piercings; they must be wondering why the heck he’s taking a yoga class.

“Okay, everyone! Let’s get started!” the instructor calls through the room.

She introduces herself as Marla to everyone else and gives a short speech about why and how she got into teaching yoga.

“She’s never going to shut up, is she?” Hardin groans after a few minutes.

“Eager to pose, are you?” I raise my brow.

“Pose what?” he asks.

“First we’ll begin with a few stretches,” Marla says just then.

Hardin sits still on the floor while everyone else mimics her actions. I can feel his eyes on me the entire time.

“You are supposed to be stretching,” I scold him, and he shrugs but doesn’t move.

Then, in a singsong voice, Marla calls Hardin out. “You in the back, join us.”

“Erm . . . sure,” he mumbles and uncrosses his long legs and stretches them in front and attempts to reach his toes.

I force myself to look toward the front of the room and away from Hardin to prevent the laughter that is fighting to surface.

“You’re supposed to touch your toes,” the blond girl next to Hardin says.

“Trying,” he says with an overly saccharine smile.

Why did he even respond to her—and why am I so jealous? She giggles at him while the image of me slamming her head against the wall plays on repeat in my mind. I always lecture Hardin about his temper, but here I am planning this whore’s murder . . . and calling her a whore even though I don’t know her.

“I can’t really see clearly, I’m going to move up,” I tell Hardin.

He looks surprised as he speaks. “Why? I wasn’t—”

“It’s nothing, I just want to be able to see and hear what’s going on,” I explain and drag my mat a few feet, stopping directly in front of Hardin.

I sit down and finish stretching with the group. I don’t have to turn around to see the look on Hardin’s face.

“Tess,” he hisses, trying to get my attention, but I don’t turn around. “Tessa.”

“Let’s begin with the downward-dog pose—it’s very simple and a basic one,” Marla says.

I bend down, place my palms against the mat, and look at Hardin through the space between my stomach and the floor. He’s standing still with his mouth open.

Once more Marla notices Hardin’s lack of movement. “Hey, man, you thinking of
joining
us in yoga?” she asks jokingly. If she does it again, I won’t be surprised if he curses her out in front of the entire class. I close my eyes and shift my hips so I’m bending over completely.

“Tessa,” I hear him say again. “The-reeee-sa.”

“What, Hardin? I’m trying to concentrate,” I say, looking at him again.

He’s now leaning over, attempting to do the pose, but his long body is bent at an awkward angle and I can’t help but burst into laughter.

“Shut up, would you!” he snaps, and I laugh louder.

“You are terrible at this,” I tease.

“You are distracting me,” he says through his teeth.

“I am? How?” I love having the upper hand with Hardin, because it doesn’t happen often.

“You know how, minx,” he whispers. I know the girl next to him can hear us, but I don’t care, I hope she does.

“Move your mat, then.” I purposely stand up to stretch and bend back down into the pose.

“You move . . . you’re the one toying with me.”

“Teasing,” I correct him, using his words from minutes ago against him.

“Okay, let’s move into a halfway lift,” Marla says.

I stand again then bend at my waist, putting my hands flat on my knees and making sure my back is at a ninety-degree angle.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Hardin groans at the sight of my bottom practically right in front of his face. I turn around to look at him and see that he isn’t remotely doing the pose correctly; he has his hands on his knees but his back is almost straight.

“Okay! Now for the forward fold,” our instructor calls, and I bend down, folding my body.

“It’s really like she wants me to fuck you right in front of everyone,” he says, and I snap my head up to make sure no one heard him.

“Shhh . . .” I plead and hear him chuckle.

“Move your mat or I’ll say everything that I’m thinking right now,” he threatens, and I quickly stand up and move my mat back to its previous spot next to him.

“Thought so.” He smirks.

“You can tell me those things later,” I whisper, and he tilts his head to the side.

“Trust me, I will,” Hardin promises and my stomach flutters.

He doesn’t participate in much of the remainder of class, and the blonde ends up changing her spot halfway through, probably because Hardin won’t stop talking.

“We’re supposed to be meditating,” I whisper back to him and close my eyes. The room is silent except for Hardin’s quiet whispers.

“This is so fucking lame,” he complains.

“You’re the one who signed up for yoga.”

“I didn’t know how lame it was. I’m literally about to fall asleep right here.”

“Stop whining.”

“I can’t. You had to go and get me all worked up, and now I’m stuck sitting cross-legged, meditating, with a hard-on in a room full of people.”

“Hardin!” I hiss, louder than intended.

“Shhh . . .” Multiple voices attempt to silence me.

Hardin laughs, and I stick my tongue out at him, earning a dirty look from the girl to my right. Hardin and me taking yoga together is not going to work; I’m going to get kicked out or fail.

“We’re dropping this class,” he says when the meditation is over.

“You are, I’m not. I need a PE credit,” I inform him.

“Great first day, everyone! I look forward to seeing you later this week.
Namaste
,” Marla says, dismissing us.

I roll my mat up, but Hardin doesn’t bother; he just shoves his onto the shelf.

T
he girl who gave me her extra lock is nowhere to be found when I return to the locker room, so I just put the lock back on the handle, and if she doesn’t claim it back tomorrow, then I’ll continue to use it and pay her or something.

When I finish collecting my things, I meet Hardin back in the hall. He’s leaning against the wall with one foot perched on the wall behind him. “If you’d taken any longer, I’d have barged in there,” he threatens.

“You should have. You wouldn’t have been the only guy in there,” I lie and watch as his features change. I turn away from him, taking a few steps before he grabs my arm and spins me back around to face him.

“What did you just say?” he demands, eyes half closed and primal.

“Teasing.” I smirk, and with a huff he lets go of my arm.

“I think you’ve done enough of that today.”

“Maybe.” I smile.

He shakes his head. “You clearly enjoy tormenting me.”

“The yoga relaxed me and cleansed my aura.” I laugh.

“Not mine,” he reminds me as we walk outside.

The first day of the new semester went very well, even yoga, which ended up being amusing. Amusing is not my usual preference when it comes to academics, but having Hardin there was nice. My Religion class may be a problem because of the lack of
structure, but I’m just going to try to go with the flow so I don’t drive myself insane.

“I have some work to do for a few hours, but I’ll be finished by dinnertime,” Hardin tells me. He’s been working a lot lately. “That hockey game is tomorrow, right?” he asks.

“Yes; you’re still going, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know . . .”

“I need to know because if you flake then I’m going to go with him,” I respond.

Landon would probably much rather I go with him, but the two of them could use some bonding time together. I know they’ll never be friends really, but it would help tremendously if they got along better.

“Fine, fuck. I’ll go . . .” He sighs and climbs into the car.

“Thank you.” I smile and he rolls his eyes.

A half hour later, we pull into his usual spot in the parking lot of our apartment.

“How are your classes?” I ask him. “Hate them all except yoga?” I try to lighten up the mood.

“Yes, except yoga. Yoga was certainly . . . interesting.” He turns to look at me.

“Really? How so?” I chew on my bottom lip in an attempt to appear innocent.

“I think it has something to do with a blonde.” He smirks and I tense.

“Excuse me?”

“You didn’t see the hot blonde next to me? You’re really missing out, babe. You should see the way her ass looks in those yoga pants.”

I scowl and open the car door.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“Inside. It’s cold in this car.”

“Aw . . . Tess, are you jealous of the girl in yoga?” Hardin teases.

“No.”

“Yes, you are,” he challenges me, and I roll my eyes while I climb out of the car. I’m a little surprised when I hear his boots clomping on the concrete behind me. Pulling the heavy glass door open, I go inside and am at the elevator before I remember that I forgot my bag in the car.

“You’re an idiot.” He chuckles.

“Excuse me?” I look up at him.

“You think I’d be looking at some random blonde when you’re there . . . when I can look at you? Especially in these pants, I am not looking and literally cannot look at anyone else. I was referring to you.” He takes a long stride toward me, and I step back against the cold lobby wall.

I practically pout. “Well, I saw her trying to flirt with you.” I don’t like the way jealousy feels; it is the most obnoxious emotion possible.

“You silly girl.” He takes one more step to bring his body to mine and then leads us into the elevator. Cupping my cheek, he forces me to make eye contact. “How can you not comprehend what you do to me?” he asks, inches away from my mouth.

“I don’t know,” I squeak when his free hand grabs mine and leads it down to his shorts.

“This is what you do.” He shifts his hips so his erection fills my hand.

“Oh.” My head is swimming.

“You’ll be saying much more than ‘oh’—” he begins, but is interrupted when the elevator stops at the next floor. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he groans when a woman and her three children step into the elevator.

I try to step away from him, but he wraps his arm around my waist, refusing to let me move. One of the children begins to cry, which makes Hardin huff in annoyance. I begin to imagine how
humorous it would be if the elevator stalled and we were trapped inside with the crying child. Fortunately for Hardin, the doors open moments later and we step out into the hall.

“I literally despise children,” he complains as we reach our apartment. When he unlocks the door, cold air flows out from the apartment.

“Did you turn the heat off?” I ask him when we walk inside.

“No, it was on this morning.” Hardin walks over to the thermostat and curses under his breath. “It says it’s eighty degrees in here when it’s clearly not. I’ll call maintenance.”

I nod and grab the blanket from the back of the couch and wrap it around myself before sitting down.

“Yes . . . it isn’t working and it’s cold as fuck in here.” Hardin speaks into the receiver. “Thirty minutes? No, that won’t work . . . I don’t give a shit, I pay a small fortune to live here, and I won’t have my girlfriend freezing to death,” he says, then corrects himself: “I won’t have it freezing in here.”

He glances over at me, and I look away. “Fine. Fifteen minutes. No longer,” he barks into the phone and tosses it against the couch. “They’re sending someone up to fix it,” he tells me.

“Thank you.” I smile at him, and he sits down next to me on the couch.

I open the front of the blanket and reach for him. When he scoots closer, I climb onto his lap and thread my fingers through his hair and tug lightly.

“What are you doing?” His hands rest on my hips.

“You said we have fifteen minutes.” I brush my lips along his jaw and he shivers.

I feel his jaw move into a smile. “Are you coming onto me, Tess?”

“Hardin . . .” I whine to prevent him from teasing me further.

“I’m joking, now take your clothes off,” he demands, but his hands lift the bottom of my shirt, contradicting his own command.

G
oose bumps rise on her skin as my fingertips slide down her arms. I know she’s cold, but I would like to think they’re partly caused by me. My fingers wrap around her arms more forcefully when she shifts on my lap, pushing her hips down onto me to create the friction that I want and need. I have never wanted someone so much, so often.