“Done,” I say, and he smiles despite the fact that his mouth is swollen as well. Why am I always cleaning up wounds?
“Thank you.” He smiles again as I rinse off the bloodstained towel.
“I’ll send you a bill,” I tease.
“Are you sure you’re okay, though? You hit the ground pretty hard.”
“Yeah, I’m a little sore, but I’m fine.” The events from tonight took a drastic turn for the worse when Hardin followed me outside. I had a feeling he wasn’t too hurt by me leaving him, but I thought he would be more affected than he was. He said he was busy and that’s why he hadn’t called me. Even though I thought he wouldn’t care as much as I did, I thought he loved me enough to care a little. Instead, he acted as if nothing had even happened, as if we were friends having a casual conversation. That is, until he saw Zed and lost it. If anything, I thought seeing Trevor would anger him and he would try to start a fight in front of everyone, but he couldn’t have cared less. Which is kind of strange.
Regardless of how brokenhearted I am, I know Hardin wouldn’t hurt me purposely, but this is the second time something like this has happened. The first time I was quick to excuse his behavior. I was the one who convinced him to go to his father’s for Christmas, and he just couldn’t handle it. Tonight was his fault—he shouldn’t even have been there.
“Are you hungry?” Zed asks me as we leave his small bathroom for the living room.
“No, I already ate at the party,” I say; my voice is still hoarse from my excessive, embarrassing sobbing on the way to Zed’s apartment.
“Okay, we don’t have much anyway, but I could order you something if you want, so just let me know if you change your mind.”
“Thank you.” Zed is always so incredibly sweet to me.
“My roommate will be here in a little while, but he won’t bother us. He’ll probably crash as soon as he gets in.”
“I really am sorry that this keeps happening, Zed.”
“Don’t apologize. Like I said, I’m just glad I was there for you. Hardin seemed pretty angry when I got there.”
“We were already fighting.” I roll my eyes and take a seat on the couch, wincing from the soreness. “Go figure.”
All of my bruises and cuts from my automobile accident just healed, and now I’m going to have another, from Hardin. The back of my dress is dirty and ruined, and my shoes are scuffed down the sides. Hardin really does ruin everything that he comes in contact with.
“Do you need some clothes to sleep in?” Zed asks, handing me the old blanket I slept with a few nights ago.
I’m slightly apprehensive about borrowing Zed’s clothes. That’s something I share with Hardin, and I’ve never worn anyone else’s clothing.
“I think Molly has some stuff here . . . in my roommate’s room. I know that’s probably awkward . . .” He half smiles. “But I’m sure they’re better than sleeping in that dress.”
Molly is much thinner than me, and I almost laugh. “I can’t fit in her clothes, but thank you for thinking I could.”
Zed seems to be confused by my answer; his cluelessness is adorable. “Well, I have some clothes you can wear,” he offers, and I nod before I allow myself to overthink it. I can wear whoever’s stuff I want, Hardin doesn’t own me—he didn’t even care enough to try to explain himself to me.
Zed disappears into his bedroom and returns moments later with his hands full of clothing. “I grabbed a few different things, I don’t know what you like.” There’s something behind his tone that makes me think he’d really like to get to that stage with me. The one where you know what the other likes. The stage I’m at with Hardin. Was at. Whatever.
I grab a blue T-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. “I’m not picky.” I give him a thankful smile before I go into the bathroom to change.
To my horror, the plaid thing that I thought was pants is in fact a pair of boxers. Zed’s boxers. Oh God. I unzip my dress and pull the large T-shirt over my head before considering what to do about the boxers.
The shirt is smaller than Hardin’s shirts are; it barely hits the top of my thigh and it doesn’t smell like Hardin. Of course it doesn’t, it’s not Hardin’s. It smells like laundry soap with the smallest hint of cigarette smoke. The smell is nice somehow, though not as nice as the familiar scent of the boy that I miss.
I pull the boxers up my legs and look down. They aren’t too short. In fact, they’re sort of baggy, tighter than Hardin’s would be, but not too tight. I’ll just walk to the couch and cover myself with the blanket as fast as I can.
I’m incredibly embarrassed to be wearing them, but it would be even more embarrassing to make a big deal out of it after everything Zed has been through tonight because of me. His poor face holds the proof of Hardin’s anger, a big bloody reminder of why Hardin and I would never work. Hardin only cares for himself, and the only reason he lost it when he saw Zed is his pride. He doesn’t want me, but he doesn’t want me to be with anyone else either.
I leave my dress folded on the bathroom floor; it’s already dirty and ruined anyway. I’ll try the dry cleaners, but I’m not sure if it can be saved. I really loved that dress, too, and it cost me a decent amount of money—money that I sorely need once I find my own apartment.
I walk as fast as I can, but when I reach the living room, Zed is standing next to the television. His eyes go wide as they rake up and down my body. “I . . . uh, I was putting something . . . I was putting, trying to find a movie . . . to watch. Or something for you to watch, I mean,” he stammers, and I sit on the couch and pull the blanket over me.