“No.” I lie.
“You’re sure?” he asks again.
I don’t want to tell him, but I have to. I can’t expect honesty from him when I don’t give the same in return.
I close my eyes. “I kissed him,” I whisper, hoping that he didn’t hear me. But when he knocks the books off the desk, I know he did.
Chapter one hundred and thirteen
TESSA
I open my eyes and look up at Hardin from the bed, but he isn’t looking at me. I feel like he’s barely registering that I exist. His eyes are focused on the books he pushed to the floor as he clenches his fists at his sides.
To bring him back to me from wherever he is, I say it again. “I kissed him, Hardin.”
Instead of looking at me, he taps his fists against his forehead in frustration, and my mind scrambles for an explanation. “I . . . you . . . why?” he mumbles.
“I thought you forgot about me . . . that you didn’t want me anymore, and he was there and . . .” My explanation isn’t fair, and I know it. But I don’t know what else to say. My feet won’t move toward him like my mind wants them to, and I remain on the bed.
“Stop saying that shit! Stop fucking saying he was there. I swear to God, if I hear that one more fucking time . . . !”
“Okay! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Hardin. I was so hurt and confused, he was saying all the things that I was so desperate for you to say and—”
“What was he saying?”
I don’t want to repeat anything that Zed said, not to Hardin. “Hardin . . .” I hold on to the pillow as an anchor.
“Now,” he demands.
“He was just saying what would have happened if he had won the bet, if we had dated instead.”
“And what was that like?”
“What?”
“What was that like, hearing that bullshit? Is that what you want? You want to be with him instead of me?” His anger is boiling and I can tell he’s trying his hardest to keep the lid on it, but the steam is pressing and pressing.
“No, that’s not what I want.” I climb off the bed and take a cautious step toward him.
“Don’t. Don’t come near me.” His words pierce me, pinning me to where I am.
“What else did you do with him? Did you fuck him? Suck his dick?”
I’m so thankful that the house is empty and they can’t hear Hardin’s foul accusations.
“Oh my God! No! You know I didn’t. I don’t know what I was thinking when I kissed him. I was just being stupid, and I was at such a bad place with you abandoning me.”
“Abandoning you? You’re the one who fucking left me, and now I find out you were flaunting yourself around campus like a fucking whore!” he screams.
I want to cry but this isn’t about me, it’s about him and how hurt and angry he must be. “I didn’t mean it that way. Don’t call me names.” I squeeze the back of the desk chair.
Hardin turns his back to me, leaving me alone in my guilt. I can’t imagine how I would feel if he had done this during the worst time in my life. I hadn’t thought about how he’d feel when I did it, though; I had only assumed he was doing the same.
I don’t want to continue to push him. I know the way his temper gets too heated for him to control, and he’s been trying his best to do so.
“Do you want me to leave you alone for now?” I weakly ask.
“Yes.”
I didn’t want him to agree for me to leave him be, but I do what he asks and head out of the bedroom. He doesn’t turn around.
I’m unsure what to do with myself as I lean against the wall in the hallway. In a sick way I’d rather him be screaming at me, pinning me against the wall, and demanding me to tell him why I did what I did instead of staring out of the window and asking me to leave the room.
Maybe that’s what’s wrong with us: we both crave the drama of disagreements. I don’t believe that to be true; we have come a long way since the beginning of our relationship, even if we’ve fought more than we’ve had peace. Most of the novels that I’ve read led me to believe quarrels come and go in the blink of an eye, a simple apology will bandage any problem and everything will be worked out within minutes. The novels lie. Maybe that’s why I’m so enamored with Wuthering Heights and Pride and Prejudice; both are incredibly romantic in their own way, but they reveal the truth behind blind love and promises of forever.
This is the truth. This is a world where everyone makes mistakes, even the incredibly naïve girl who is usually the victim of a boy’s insensitivity and temper. No one is truly innocent in this world, no one. The people who believe themselves to be perfect are the worst ones of all.
A crash from within Hardin’s room frightens me, and I bring my hand to my mouth as I hear another and another. He’s destroying the room. I knew he would. I should stop him from breaking more and more of his father’s property, but honestly, I’m afraid to. I’m not afraid that he’ll hurt me physically—I’m afraid of the words he’ll say while he’s in this state. I can’t be afraid, though, I can handle it.
“Fuck!” he screams, and I step into the room. I’m half thankful that Ken took Karen and Landon out for dessert, but I almost wish someone was here to help me stop him.
In Hardin’s hand is a piece of wood, the leg of a chair, I realize when I see the chair lying on its side at Hardin’s feet. He tosses the dark wood away, and his eyes glow an angry green when he sees me.
“What part of leave me the fuck alone do you not get, Tessa?”