After We Fell (5 page)

He shrugs. “A lot of things. I thought about all the shit he's done to me, and to you. He doesn't deserve to just walk away from this.” He gestures to his face. “Look at me, for God's sake.”

I'm not sure what to say to Zed in this moment. He has every right to be upset with Hardin, but I wish he wouldn't take legal action against him.

“He's already in trouble with the university board,” I say, hoping to change his mind.

“He's not going to get in trouble; Steph told me his dad's the chancellor,” he scoffs.

Dammit, Steph—why would you tell him that?
I nod to acknowledge what he said. “That doesn't mean he won't get in trouble.”

But my saying this only makes him exasperated. “Tessa, why are you always so quick to defend him? No matter what he does, you're right there to fight his battles for him!”

“That's not true,” I lie.

“Yes, it is!” He throws his hands up in disbelief. “You
know
it is! You told me you'd think about what I said about leaving him,
but then I see you with him at a tattoo shop days later. It doesn't make sense.”

“I know you don't understand, but I love him.”

“If you love him so much, then why are you running away to Seattle?”

His words rattle me. I pause for a second, but say, “I'm not running to Seattle. I'm going there for a better opportunity.”

“He's not coming with you. Our group of friends talk, you know?”

What? “He was planning to,” I lie. But I can tell Zed sees right through it.

With challenge in his eyes, he looks off to the side, then levels his stare at me. “If you can tell me that you have no feelings toward me, none at all, I'll drop the charges.”

Right then, the air seems to grow colder, the wind stronger. “What?”

“You heard me. Tell me to leave you alone and never speak to you again, and I'll do it.” His request reminds me of something Hardin said to me long ago.

“But I don't want that; I don't want to never talk again,” I admit.

“So what do you want, then?” he asks, his voice tinged with sadness and anger. “Because you seem to be just as confused as I am! You keep texting me and meeting up with me; you kiss me, sleep in the same bed as me; you always come to me when he hurts you! What do you want from me?”

I thought I'd made my intentions clear at the hospital. “I don't know what I want from you, but I love
him
and that's never going to change. I'm sorry that I gave you mixed signals, but I—”

“Tell me why you're going to Seattle in a week and haven't told him!” he shouts back at me, his arms waving in front of his body.

“I don't know . . . I'm going to tell him when I get the chance.”

“You won't tell him because you know he'll leave you,” Zed snaps, his eyes looking past me.

“He . . . well . . .” I don't know what to say—because I really fear Zed's right.

“Well, guess what, Tessa? You can thank me later.”

“For what?” I watch as his lips turn up into a wicked smile.

Zed lifts his arm up, gesturing behind me, and a shiver rakes through me. “For telling him for you.”

I know that when I turn around, Hardin will be standing there. I swear I can hear his ragged breathing over the harsh winter wind.

W
hen I'd stepped outside, the wind whipped around me, carrying the one voice I didn't expect to hear right now. I'd just had to endure hearing a lot of people say a lot of bad things about me, and I just had to remain quiet. And afterward, all I wanted to hear was the voice of my girl, my angel.

And there was her voice. But there was also
his
. I turn the corner, and indeed, there he is. There
they
are. Tessa and Zed.

My first thoughts were:
Why the fuck is he here? Why the fuck is Tessa outside talking to him? What part of “stay the fuck away from him” does she not fucking get?

When that motherfucker raised his voice at her, I started walking toward them: nobody yells at her like that. But when he mentioned Seattle . . . I was stopped in my tracks.
Tessa is planning to go to Seattle?

And Zed knew, but I didn't?

This isn't happening, this can't actually be happening. She would never plan to leave without telling me . . .

Zed's wild eyes and shit-eating grin mock me as I try to collect my fucked-up thoughts. When Tessa turns to me, her movements are painstakingly slow. Her blue-gray eyes are wide, pupils blown out in surprise when they meet mine.

“Hardin . . .” I can see she's saying the words, but her voice is small, lost in the wind.

Unsure what to say, I stand still while my mouth drops open, closes, opens—back and forth in an endless pattern until the
words finally fall from my lips. “So this was your plan, then?” I manage.

She pushes her hair back from her face, her mouth turns to a frown immediately, and she rubs her hands up and down her arms, which are crossed in front of her chest.

“No! It's not like that, Hardin, I—”

“You two are quite the fucking schemers, aren't you? You . . .” I point to the bastard. “You fucking scheme and plot behind my back and try to make a move on my girl, over and fucking over. No matter what I do, no matter how many times I pound your goddamned face in, you still keep crawling back like a fucking cockroach.”

Amazingly, he dares to speak. “She's—”

“And
you
 . . .” I point to the blond girl who has my world under the sharp heel of her black shoe. “You—you keep playing mind games with me, acting like you give a fuck, when really you've been planning to leave me this entire time! You know I won't go to Seattle, yet you're planning to run off—without telling me!”

Her eyes glassy, she pleads with me. “That's why I hadn't told you yet, Hardin, because—”

“Stop fucking talking,” I say, and her hand moves to her chest, like my words are causing her pain.

Maybe they are. Maybe I want them to, so she can feel what I feel.

How could she humiliate me this way—in front of Zed, of all people?

“Why is he here?” I ask her.

There is no evidence of his smug grin when she turns to look at him before looking back at me. “I asked him to meet me here.”

I stagger back in mock surprise. Or maybe it's real surprise—I can't tell what these feelings really are, rushing through me so quickly. “Well, there we go! The two of you obviously have something special here.”

“I only wanted to talk to him about the charges. I'm trying to
help
you, Hardin. Please, just
listen
to me.” She steps toward me, moving her hair from her face again.

I shake my head. “Bullshit! I heard your entire conversation. If you don't want him, tell him right now, in front of me.”

Her watery eyes plead silently for me to give in and not make her humiliate him in front of me, but it doesn't sway me.

“Now, or I'm done with you.” My own words burn like acid on my tongue.

“I don't want you, Zed,” she says, facing me. Her words are rushed, panicked, and I know it's hurting her to say them.

“At all?” I ask, mimicking Zed's grin from earlier.

“At all.” She frowns, and he runs his hands through his hair.

“You never want to see him again,” I instruct. “Turn and tell him that.”

But it's Zed who speaks up. “Hardin, just stop. Leave it alone. I got the message. You don't have to play into his sick game, Tessa. I get it,” he says. He looks pathetic, like a sad child.

“Tessa . . .” I start, but when she looks up at me, what I see behind her eyes nearly brings me to my knees. Disgust—she is full of disgust for me.

She takes a step toward me. “No, Hardin, I won't do it. Not because I want to be with him—because I don't. I love you—only you—but you're only doing this to prove a point, and it's ugly, and it's cruel, and I won't help you.” She bites the inside of her cheek, trying not to cry.

What the hell am I doing?

With fiery intensity, she tells me, “I'm going home; when you want to talk about Seattle, that's where I'll be.” With that, she turns to walk away.

“You don't have a way to get home!” I call to her.

Zed reaches out an arm in her direction. “I'll take her,” he says.

Which breaks something in me. “If I wasn't already in a bunch of shit because of you, I would
kill
you right now. I don't just mean break a bone, I mean I would literally crack your skull open against the concrete and watch you bleed out all over this—”

“Stop it!” Tessa yells as she turns, covering her ears.

“Tessa, if you—” Zed says softly.

“Zed, I appreciate everything you've done, but you really need to stop.” She tries to sound stern but fails miserably.

With a final sigh, he turns on his heel and walks away.

I head to the car, and as soon as I'm near it, my father and Landon appear—of fucking course. I hear the click of Tessa's heels behind me.

“We're going,” I tell them before they can get a word in.

“I'll call you in a little while,” she says to Landon.

“You're still going Wednesday, right?” he asks her.

She smiles at him, a fake smile to mask the panic behind her eyes. “Yeah, of course.”

Landon glares at me, obviously noticing the tension between us.
Does he know about her plan? Probably—he probably helped her develop it.

I climb into the car, not even trying to hide my lack of patience.

“I'll call you,” she says again to Landon and waves goodbye to my father before getting in. I immediately turn the music off as she buckles her seat belt.

“Go ahead,” she says, no emotion in her voice.

“What?”

“Go ahead and scream at me. I know you're going to.”

I'm stunned into silence by her assumption. Granted, I had planned on yelling at her, but the way she just expects it throws me off guard.

But of course she expects it—that's what always happens. That's what I do . . .

“Well?” Her lips are pressed in a hard line.

“I'm not going to yell at you.”

She glances over at me momentarily before focusing at some point out beyond the window.

“I don't know what to do except scream at you . . . that's the problem.” I sigh in defeat, my forehead resting against the steering wheel.

“I wasn't planning this behind your back, Hardin, not purposely.”

“It sure as hell seems that way.”

“I would never do that to you. I love you. You'll understand when we go over it.”

Her words bounce right off of me as anger takes over. “I
understand
you're moving—soon. I don't even know when—and
we live
together
, Tessa. We share a fucking bed, and you're going to just leave me? I always knew you would.”

I hear the click of her seat belt and then feel her hand pushing me back by the shoulders. Within seconds she's on my lap, bare thighs straddling me, cold arms wrapped around my neck, her tear-soaked face buried in my chest.

“Get off of me,” I say, attempting to unwrap her arms from me.

“Why do you always assume I'm going to leave you?” She tightens her grip.

“Because you will.”

“I'm not going to Seattle to leave you, I'm going for myself and my career. It's always been my plan to go there, and this is an incredible opportunity. I asked Mr. Vance while we were figuring out what we were going to do, and I planned on telling you so many times, but you either cut me off or didn't want to talk about anything serious.”

All I can think of is her packing her bags and leaving me with nothing but some bullshit note on the counter. “Don't you dare try
to blame me.” My voice doesn't hold as much conviction as I intended.

“I'm not blaming you, but I knew you wouldn't be supportive; you know how important this is to me.”

“What are you going to do, then? If you go, I can't be with you. I love you, Tessa, but I'm not going to Seattle.”

“Why? You don't even know if you'd like it or not. We could at least try it, and if you hate it, we could go to England . . . maybe,” she says with a sniffle.

“You don't know if you'll like Seattle either.” I look at her with blank eyes. “I'm sorry, but you have to choose: me or Seattle.”

She looks up at me for a moment, then moves back to the passenger seat without a word.

“You don't have to decide right now, but time is running out.” I put the car in drive and pull out of the small space.

“I can't believe you're making me choose.” She doesn't look at me.

“You knew how I felt about Seattle. You're lucky I kept my cool back there when you were with him.”

“I'm ‘lucky'?” she scoffs.

“This day is shit already; let's not fight about it. I'm going to need an answer by Friday. Unless, of course, you'll be gone by then.” The idea sends a chill through my body.

I know she'll choose me—she has to. We can go to England and get away from all this bullshit. She hasn't said a word about missing classes today, which I'm glad for, since that's another fight I don't want to have.

“You're being so selfish,” she accuses.

I don't argue, because I know she's right. But I do say, “Well, some might say selfish is also not telling someone when they plan on leaving them. Where are you going to live? Do you already have a place?”

“No, I was going to look for one tomorrow. We leave Wednesday
for the trip with your family.” It takes me a moment to realize who she's referring to.