“No, not going. End of discussion.” He turns to walk away from me.
“Wait, just hear me out. Please?” I reach for his wrist but he jerks away.
“No. You really need to stay out of this, Tessa. I am not kidding. Mind your own damn business for once,” he snaps.
“Hardin . . .” I say once more, but he ignores me.
He walks off into the parking lot. My feet have become cement, keeping me from following after him. I watch as his white car peels out of the parking lot. He is overreacting, and I am not going to feed into it. He needs some time to cool off before we speak again. I knew he wouldn’t want to go, but I had hoped he would at least discuss it.
Who am I kidding? We only started this “more” thing two days ago. I don’t know why I keep expecting things to be so much different. They are, in some ways: Hardin is nicer to me mostly, and he kissed me in public, which was really surprising. However, Hardin is still essentially Hardin, and he is stubborn and has an attitude problem. Sighing, I hook my bag over my shoulder and walk back to my room.
Steph is sitting cross-legged on the floor staring up at her television when I enter the room. “Where were you last night? It’s not like you to stay out on a school night, young lady,” she teases and I roll my eyes playfully.
“I . . . was out,” I tell her. I don’t know if I should tell her that I stayed with Hardin.
“With Hardin,” she adds for me, and I look away. “I know you were; he asked me for your number, then he left the bowling alley and never came back.” Her smile is massive and full of glee for me.
“Don’t tell anyone. I don’t exactly know what is going on myself,” I say.
Steph promises to stay mute, and we spend the rest of the afternoon talking about her and Tristan before he arrives to pick her up to take her to dinner. He kisses her as soon as she opens the door, holds her hand while she gathers her things, and smiles at her the entire time. Why can’t Hardin be that way with me?
I haven’t heard anything from Hardin in a few hours, but I don’t want to be the one to text him first. Petty, I know, but I don’t care. When Steph and Tristan leave, I finish up my studying and have gathered my things to go take a shower when my phone buzzes. My heart leaps as soon as I see Hardin’s name.
Stay with me tonight? the text reads. He hasn’t spoken to me in hours but he wants me to stay with him? Again?
Why? So you can be a jerk to me? I respond. I want to see him, but I’m still annoyed.
I’m on my way, be ready. I roll my eyes at his bossy tone but can’t help but feel excited to see him.
I rush down and take a shower so I don’t have to take one at his frat house again. By the time I finish, I barely have enough time to gather my clothes for tomorrow. I dread taking the bus all the way to Vance, when it’s only a thirty-minute drive, so I renew my resolve to go car shopping again. I am folding my clothes neatly into my bag when Hardin opens the door—without knocking, of course.
“Ready?” he asks and grabs my purse off the dresser. I nod and put my bag over my shoulder and follow him out. We walk to his car in silence, and I find myself repeating a small prayer that the rest of the night doesn’t go this way.
Chapter fifty-six
I stare out the passenger window, not wanting to speak first. After a couple of blocks, Hardin turns the radio on and then turns it up too loud. I roll my eyes but try to ignore it—until I can’t. I hate his taste in music and it gives me an instant headache. Without asking, I turn the knob down and Hardin looks over at me.
“What?” I snap.
“Whoa, someone is in a pissy mood,” he says.
“No, I just didn’t want to listen to that, and if anyone is in a bad mood, it is you. You were being rude earlier, then you text me and ask me to stay; I don’t get it.”
“I was pissed because you brought up the wedding. Now that it’s settled that we aren’t going there is no need for me to be pissed.” His tone is calm and sure.
“It is not settled—we didn’t even talk about it.”
“Yes, we did. I told you I’m not going, so drop it, Theresa.”
“Well, you may not be going but I am. And I am going over to your dad’s house to learn to bake with Karen this week,” I tell him.
He clenches his jaw and glares at me. “You’re not going to the wedding, and what—are you and Karen like best friends now? You barely even know her.”
“So what if I barely know her? I barely know you,” I tell him. His face falls, and I feel bad, but it is true.
“Why are you being so difficult?” he says through gritted teeth.
“Because you aren’t going to tell me what to do, Hardin. It’s not happening. If I want to go to the wedding, I will, and I really would like you to come with me. It could be fun—you may even have a nice time. It would mean a lot to your father and Karen, not that you care about that.”
He doesn’t say anything. He lets out a large breath and I stare back out the window. The rest of the ride is spent in silence, both of us too angry to speak. When we pull up to the fraternity house, Hardin grabs my bag out of the backseat and puts it over his shoulder.
“Why are you part of a frat, anyway?” I ask him. I have been wanting to know the answer since I discovered his room the first time.
He takes a deep breath as we walk up the steps. “Because, by the time I agreed to come here, the dorms were full—and I sure as hell wasn’t going to live with my father—so this was one of the few options I had.”