After (After 1) - Chapter 140

“Wait until you see it; you will love it,” he says.

“Does anyone know that you are getting an apartment?” I ask. I already know the answer.

“No, why would they need to know?”

“They don’t, I was just wondering.”

The faucet creaks as I shut the water off. Hardin holds a towel open for me as I step out and wraps it around my soaked body.

“I know you well enough to know that you think I am hiding the fact that we are moving in together from my friends,” he says.

He’s not wrong. “Well, it does seem a little odd that you’re moving out of here but no one knows.”

“That isn’t because of you—it’s because I don’t want to hear their shit about dropping out of the fraternity. I will tell them all—even Molly—after we move in.” He smiles and wraps his arms around my shoulders.

“I want to be the one to tell Molly.” I laugh and hug him back.

“Deal.”

After multiple attempts to keep Hardin’s hands off me as I get ready, he hands me the keys to his car and I leave. The moment I get in the car my phone vibrates.

Be careful. I love you, the text reads.

I will. You be careful in my car 🙂 I love you. xo

I can’t wait to see you again. Meet me at five. Your crap car will be fine.

You should watch what you say or I may accidently hit a parking median in yours. I smile to myself as I send my reply.

Stop pestering me and go to work before I come down there and peel that dress off you.

As appealing as that sounds, I put my phone back onto the passenger seat and start the car. The engine gently purrs to life, unlike the loud roar of mine. For a classic car it drives much smoother than mine; he really takes care of it. When I turn onto the freeway my phone rings.

“Jesus, you can’t go twenty minutes without me?” I laugh into the phone.

“Tessa?” a male voice says. Noah.

I pull my phone away from my ear and look at my screen to confirm my horror.

“Um . . . sorry, I thought . . .” I stammer.

“You thought it was him . . . I know,” he says. His voice is sad and not at all hateful.

“I’m sorry.” I don’t deny it.

“S’okay,” he says.

“So . . .” I am not sure what to say.

“I saw your mom yesterday.”

“Oh.” The pain from Noah’s sorrow-filled voice and the reminder of my mother’s hatred for me causes my chest to ache.

“Yeah . . . she is pretty pissed at you.”

“I know . . . she threatened to stop helping me with college.”

“She will get over this, I know she will. She’s just hurt,” he says.

“She is hurt? You’re kidding me, right?” I scoff. He cannot be defending her.

“No, no—I know she is going about it the wrong way, but she’s just angry that you are . . . you know with . . . him.” The disgust in his voice is evident.

“Well, it isn’t her place to tell me who to be with. Is that why you called me? To tell me that I shouldn’t be with him?”

“No, no—Tessa, it’s not. I just wanted to make sure you are okay. This is the longest we have gone without talking since we were ten years old,” he says. I can picture the frown on his face.

“Oh . . . I’m sorry for snapping at you. I just have a lot going on right now and I thought you were calling to—”

“Just because we aren’t together anymore doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be there for you,” he says, and my heart aches. I do miss him; not my relationship with him, but he’s been such a huge part of my life since I was a child, it’s hard to let that go entirely. He was there for me through everything, and I hurt him, without even calling to explain or apologize. I feel terrible about how I left things with him, and tears well up in my eyes.

“I’m sorry for everything, Noah,” I say softly and sigh.

“It’ll be okay,” he says back, equally softly. But then, as if needing to change the topic, he says, “So I heard you got an internship,” and our conversation continues until I arrive at Vance.

When we get off the phone he promises to talk to my mother about her behavior toward me, and I feel like a huge weight has been lifted from me. Of anyone, Noah could always manage to get her to calm down when she was at her worst.

The rest of my day goes smoothly. I spend the entire day finishing my first manuscript and making notes for Mr. Vance. Hardin and I text on and off to nail down the details on where to meet, and before I know it the day is over.

When I arrive at the address Hardin sent me, I’m surprised to find that it’s about halfway between campus and Vance Publishing. My drive would only be twenty minutes if I lived here, when I live here. It still seems like such an abstract idea, Hardin and I living together.

I don’t see my car when I pull into the parking lot, and when I try to call Hardin’s phone I get his voicemail. What if he changed his mind? He would tell me, wouldn’t he?

Just as I start to panic, Hardin pulls my car into the lot and parks next to me. At least, it looks like my car, but it also looks different. The silver paint is no longer chipped, and overall it looks shiny and new.

“What did you do to my car?” I say when he climbs out.

“It’s nice to see you, too.” He smiles and kisses my cheek.

“Seriously, what did you do?” I cross my arms.

“I got a paint job. Jesus. You could thank me.” He rolls his eyes.

I bite my tongue only because of where we are and what we are about to do. Besides, the paint job does look really good. I just don’t like the idea of Hardin spending money on me, and paint jobs are not cheap.