Home- Gabrielle Aplin
I Found- Amber Run
Fix You- Coldplay
Hardin's POV.
The way she looked at me as she walked by is burning through my memory, playing on repeat over and over. I pull out my phone and scroll through a few pictures I have taken of her. One while walking to the stream, her hair was so blond under the sun and her skin was glowing. She was quiet, nervous maybe, but she looks peaceful in the photo. She really is beautiful. Why would she want to help me? What all did Landon tell her about my drinking?
After a few minutes, I can't help but go inside. My eyes are burning, my head is pounding as I open the door.
"Tessa, can I talk to you, please?" I immediately ask. Landon is crouched over, dropping broken pieces into a plastic bin. Tessa nods and I stare at her face and my eyes move further down her body, stopping at her bloody finger running under the sink faucet.
I cross the kitchen in only a few steps. "Are you okay? What happened?"
"It's nothing, just a little glass," she says. The cut looks small but I can't get a good look at it. I reach for her hand and pull it from the water. The cut is about half an inch long and a centimeter deep. She'll be okay, she just needs a bandage. Her hand feels so light in mine, so warm and I feel my breathing slow as I hold her. I drop her hand and she lets out a deep breath.
"Where are the Band-Aids?" I ask Landon.
"Bathroom," he's annoyed with me. I can tell by his tone. I find the small box of bandages easily in the cabinet. I grab the antibacterial gel from the bottom shelf and return to the kitchen.
I take Tessa's hand in mine for the second time and squeeze the gel on the tip of her finger. She's watching me carefully, unsure what to think, maybe? Band-Aids remind me of my mum and that fucked up night a long time ago and I blink away the memory as I wrap the bandage around Tessa's finger.
"Can I talk to you, please?" I ask Tessa for the second time. She nods and I wrap my fingers around her wrist, leading her to the back patio again. We have more privacy there, Landon wouldn't be listening in.
When we reach the table, I let go of Tessa's wrist and pull the chair out for her. It's the least I can do, I suppose. My hand feels cold and the blood is no longer pumping behind my ears. I feel calm and cool.
I grab another chair and drag it across the concrete side of the patio. When I sit down across from her, my knees almost touch hers.
"What could you possibly want to talk about, Hardin?" Tessa asks, sounding completely uninterested.
I pull the hat from my head and toss it on the table between us. My fingers find my hair. I feel like a complete bastard for being such an asshole a few minutes ago. I want her to know that I'm not her charity case, her broken little doll but now that I'm coming down from my adrenaline high, I'm starting to see what a complete dick I am.
"I am sorry," I say quietly. The words settle in the static between us and she stays silent. "Did you hear me?"
"Yeah, I heard you," she barks at me. Her chin is lifted in the most defying way. She's pissed.
She's pissed? I'm fucking pissed. She came here, meddled in my family drama and then doesn't accept my apology?
"You're so damned difficult to deal with," she says. I reach down for the bottle and open the top. She glares at me as the liquor slides down my throat.
"I am difficult? You have to be kidding me! What do you expect me to do, Hardin? You are cruel to me—so cruel," her lips tremble and her eyes begin to water. She squares her shoulders but they fall, she's more than upset over this.
I whisper my response, "I don't mean to be."
"Yes, you do, and you know it. You do it purposefully. I have never been treated this poorly by anyone in my entire life." That can't be true. I'm not even that mean to her, she hasn't dealt with shit in her life if this is the worst she's been treated.
"Then why do you keep coming around? Why not just give up?" I ask her. If I'm that bad, why keep coming around?
I ignore the part of my brain that's questioning how I would feel if she stopped trying.
"If I . . . I don't know. But I can assure you that after tonight I am not going to. I am going to drop Literature and just take it next semester." She tells me. Her arms are crossed in her lap and the wind is blowing her hair behind her shoulders. I wonder if she's cold.
I don't want her to drop the only time I have with her. "Don't, please don't do that."
"Why would you care? You don't want to be forced to be around someone as pathetic as me, right?" I hear pain behind her words but I don't know her well enough to know if it's authentic. I wish I did. I wonder how many people actually know her, the real her. I'm talking about the one who's brows crinkle before she smiles, the one who maybe doesn't have her shit figured out the way her mum thinks she does.
"I didn't mean that . . . I'm the pathetic one." I sigh and lean back in my chair.
Her eyes pierce mine, "well, I won't argue with that." She says, her lips pressed into a hard line. She reaches for the bottle but I'm faster than her this time.
"So you're the only one who can get drunk?" She looks at me, her eyes are focusing on the ring in my brow.
"I thought you were going to toss it again," I hand it to her. I don't like her drinking, but she's ready for a fight over it and I'm not. I just want her to stay here. I like how quiet it is when she's around.
She gags the moment she tastes it. "How often do you drink? You implied before it was never," she grills me.
"Before tonight it has been about six months." Six months down the drain. Way to fucking go, Hardin.
"Well, you shouldn't drink at all. It makes you an even worse person than usual." She says in a joking way, but I know she's serious.
"You think I am a bad person?" I don't look up from the ground while I wait for her answer. She's going to say yes, just like everyone else would.
"Yes."
I'm not surprised by her answer but I couldn't help but hope for her to say no.
"I'm not. Well, maybe I am. I want you to . . ." I begin. I'm not that bad of a person, am I? I could be better, for her, if she asked me to. I look at her, taking in the way her lips are trembling, waiting for me to finish my jumbled thought. I want to be good, I want her to think I'm good.
"You want me to what?" she asks impatiently. She pushes the bottle in my hands and I sit it down on the table without taking a drink.
How do I answer that without sounding pathetic? I can stop drinking, I can be nicer to people, or just her.
"Nothing," I can't find the right words for her.
"I should go." She stands to her feet and rushes away from me. She's moving so fast, I don't want her to leave. I'll try harder.
"Don't go," I follow behind her. When she stops, her face is so close to mine that I can taste the faint trace of scotch on her breath.
"Why not? Do you have more insults to throw in my face?" She shouts, her words hitting me harder than usual. She turns away from me again and I reach for her. I wrap my hand around her arm and pull her back.
"Don't turn your back on me!" I yell back at her. She doesn't get to come here and stir shit up and walk away. I'm fucking sick of people doing that shit to me.
"I should have turned my back on you a long time ago!" Tessa's hands push against my chest. "I don't know why I am even here! I came all the way here the second Landon called me!" She's screaming at me now. Her face is red and her lips are moving so fast. Her tongue darts out to wet them so she can finish her angry rant, "I left my boyfriend—who, like you said, is the only one who can stand to be around me—to come here for you!"
Her words sink into me, one by one. She did leave her boyfriend to come here. She has no other reason to be here aside from me. Maybe I'm not as bad as I thought and maybe she sees that in me.
"You know what? You're right, Hardin, I am pathetic. I am pathetic for coming here, I am pathetic for even trying—"
I close the space between us without another thought and press my mouth to hers. She pushes at my chest, fighting me, but I can feel her body relaxing in my arms.
"Kiss me, Tessa," I beg her. I need her.
"Please, just kiss me. I need you," I try once more, for the last time, to get her to kiss me. My tongue touches her closed lips and they part. She gives into me all at once, severely and wholly. She leans into me, sighing against my breath and I bring my hands to both of her cheeks, cupping them, devouring the taste of her tongue.
My tongue traces her bottom lip and she shivers. I wrap my arms around her, anchoring myself to her steadiness. I hear a noise from the house and Tessa pulls away. I don't kiss her again, but I keep my arms wrapped around her.
"Hardin, I really have to go. We can't keep doing this; it's not good for either of us," she says. She's lying to herself. We can figure this out.
"Yes, we can," I assure her. I don't know where this sudden bloom of hope has come from but it feels nice here, settled in my chest.
"No, we can't. You hate me, and I don't want to be your punching bag anymore. You confuse me. One minute you're telling me how much you can't stand me or humiliating me after my most intimate experience."
I did that. I fucked up, I need to explain what happened and that sometimes I fuck things up on purpose. I've always been like this. My Gran once tried to have a birthday party for me when I was twelve. She sent out invitations and ordered a special cake. I told everyone it was cancelled and sulked in my room the entire day. I didn't touch that cake. I just fuck things up sometimes, I can find a way to stop doing that. If it means I get to kiss her, to feel her losing herself in me again, I'll do anything.
I try to interrupt her but she stops me by pressing her index finger to my lips. If she didn't have a band-aid on it, I would touch my lips to it. "Then the next minute you're kissing me and telling me you need me. I don't like who I am when I'm with you, and I hate the way I feel after you say terrible things to me."
"Who are you when you are with me?" I ask her. I like who she is. She's a better person than most.
"Someone I don't want to be, someone who cheats on their boyfriend and cries constantly," her voice cracks. She's ashamed of this. That makes me feel like shit. I want her to be happy about spending time with me. I want her to crave me the demanding way that I do her.
"You know who I think you are when you're with me?" I ask her. My thumb traces the line of her jaw and her eyes flutter closed under my touch.
"Who?" she whispers, her lips barely moving. The air between us is calm now, expecting my answer.
I answer truthfully. "Yourself. I think this is the real you and that you're just too busy caring what everyone else thinks about you to realize it."
"And I know what I did to you after I fingered you," she cringes at my blunt word choice, "sorry . . . after our experience, I know it was wrong. I felt terrible after you got out of my car."
"I doubt that," she rolls her eyes, dismissing me.
"It's true, I swear it. I know you think I'm a bad person . . . but you make me—" I can't finish. She's digging into me, deeper and deeper and it's terrifying. "Never mind."
"Finish that sentence, Hardin, or I am leaving right now," I can tell she means it. She waits, her hand on her hip and her eyes stone cold for me.
"You . . . you make me want to be good, for you . . . I want to be good for you, Tess," I breathe and she gasps.
(Author's note: 2 days until Before is published! Eeekkkkkkkkkk Our 5th book in just a little over a year!! Insanity I swear.)