Chapter Ten
HARDIN
I don't go back to the frat house after I drop Tessa off at her dorm. I don't want to rejoin the party, I would just lock myself in my room. Not to mention, I am also too awake to sleep—not that I would get any sleep anyway—so trying to find some place to crash would be pointless.
I wanted to follow her back to the dorm. I wonder if she would have let me in—I could use some company, but I doubt she would appreciate my intrusion.
I shut my car off after some time has passed, and step out. I don't know how long I sat there debating with myself but it feels like hours since she was sitting in my passenger's seat.
The air is cool and it smells like it might rain; the pavement is dry, but the air feels damp. I prefer this weather over the humid, dry air.
I don't have any idea what I plan to say or do as I walk up the path to the dorm building, and look for her room.
If I should ever meet her mum, maybe I'll thank her for choosing the dorms on campus with the least amount of supervision. I smirk at the thought—what would her mum think of me? She'd probably have a sixth sense for assholes like me.
I try to ignore the paranoia I feel at realizing I just thought about meeting her mum. That's not happening. I don't date, and we're just trying to be friends.
Well, I'm trying for a little more, but Tessa is as stubborn as they come.
I walk the hallway until I find her door, B22. I know Steph is still out, and likely won't be back tonight—I text her anyway, and tell her to stay the fuck away for the night just in case. I don't get a response back, so I know she is too busy to look at her phone right now.
I use the key Steph gave me forever ago and slowly push the door open, expecting to find Tessa sitting on her bed with a book in her hands, but instead the lights are off and I find her curled up against the wall, fast asleep.
Must be nice, my subconscious thinks bitterly.
I feel awkward standing in the doorway, watching her sleep, like some goddamn pervert—but I can't look away, because I can really look at her without her getting all mad at me.
I'm reminded of the night I let her sleep by the pool—she woke up and got mad I let her sleep, because she got sunburnt. I hadn't noticed it before, but her skin has a nice tan glow to it now—I'll have to remind her she has me to thank for that.
What would she do if she woke up now and found me here, watching her? She'd surely throw a book at my head.
I shut the door behind me and cross the room to sit down on Steph's bed. I untie my boots and kick them off, pulling the comforter up so I can lay on top of it. Steph won't give a shit if I stay, and I'll leave before Tessa even wakes up.
I'm finding it harder to stay away from her—I hate it, but at the same time I don't want to fight it anymore. I could make her happy, I think. I don't know if she'd let me, and she'd probably be right not to, but I could try.
I will have to remind her of our time together—she was always mad at me, but she was always giving me attention and I thrived off of her reactions to me.
It's selfish, but I never claimed to be anything else.
I rest on the edge of Steph's bed, peering over at my sleeping girl. My girl. I like the sound of it—even though it terrifies the shit out of me.
I'd like to make her mine… she makes me contradict everything I once believed, and now I don't know what to think. What have I got to lose?
She shifts in her sleep, and for a moment I believe I have been caught, but Tessa's eyes are still closed and the pout on her face evens out.
She tucks her arm beneath her head, and her hair is sprawled across the pillows behind her. The comforter has fallen to her hips, and I notice that she is wearing those ugly pajama pants again.
They're actually a bit cute on her, but the pants themselves are hideous and she shouldn't wear them anymore regardless. Not when her bare, full hips have taunted me before.
Her chest rises and falls with each breath, and I notice every few minutes or so that she sighs in her sleep. I wonder if she is dreaming or if she's just a restless sleeper—I never noticed how she slept before, but then again I never really had the chance to either.
Her napping was different, she was at peace and unbothered. I can't help but wonder what troubles her in her sleep. She had mentioned her father left her family when she was young—is it possible she has nightmares, too?
My chest constricts at the thought. It's possible, but I can't help the small sliver of hope that she never experienced the shit I did. Because if she did, I will never understand how we are two completely different outcomes.
"Why…" her voice croaks with sleep. She sighs again, more frustrated this time, but she doesn't utter another word.
Before I can even think about what I am doing, I am crossing the small space between us and kneeling at the edge of her bed, so that I am face to face with her.
She breathes out through her parted lips, and they look so much softer the longer I stare.
If she were to wake up now, and catch me staring, I wouldn't be able to deny it. I would have to tell her the truth, and in this moment—where she doesn't know I am here with her—I am okay with that fact.
xxxxx
MOLLY LEFT US to grab drinks for her and Jace. She doesn't bother to ask me anymore, and I'm glad for that. The music from inside the house is blasting through the speakers, but it's muffled out in the backyard.
Jace throws more wood into the fire pit, stupidly kicking a fallen piece with his foot. The rubber sole of his sneaker is melted and burnt, and it smells terrible.
"You're a fucking idiot," I tell him, smirking.
"Find me a poker then," Jace rolls his eyes.
"I'm not moving," I say, taking a drag from the blunt. I haven't smoked in a few months now—Jace got thirty days for selling, but since he's been back we had to celebrate.
I feel the familiar burn, like an itch in my lungs. I hand it back to Jace and watch the fire for a moment.
Molly comes strutting down the lawn then, with a single cup in her hands. I'm surprised she has never broken her ankles walking across the soft dirt in those tiny heels.
She hands the cup to Jace, then plops down onto the grass beside me. She tugs at the bottom of her dress.
"That's pointless, you know," I tease her, "when you dress in such short clothes."
"Bite me," Molly retorts. She holds her hand out, waiting for Jace to hand her the blunt. She rolls her eyes when he takes a second hit. "Pass it, asshole."
Jace smirks, but does as she says. She brings it to her lips, and after a moment the smoke pours from her mouth.
"Where the fuck did Nate go?" Jace asks.
"I passed him in the kitchen," Molly says, shrugging a bare, slim shoulder. "He was shotgunning a beer with Logan and some other assholes for a video."
"He better come back with more alcohol," Jace says. I zone them out for a moment, and as I do I notice three figures on the deck, walking down the stairs toward us.
I see Steph first, and Nate a few steps behind her.
"Speaking of Nate…" I say, tilting my chin toward the house.
The third person comes into view, and I recognize Tessa's blonde hair. She is wearing a dress almost as short as Molly's, and I'm sure it's only that short because it's another one of Steph's. It's a simple black dress—no cut outs, but it pushes her breasts up nicely.
"Brought a friend?" Jace calls out to them.
"She's going to split that dress," Molly snickers into my ear. "My guess is she's probably a size four, not a double zero."
I smile, because all I want to do is smack the shit out her for that insult. Tessa's body is gorgeous—though Molly has always been the jealous type.
"And you're a fucking bitch," I hiss back at her. Molly rolls her eyes at me.
"Jace," Nate slurs, stopping at the edge of the fire pit, "this is Tessa." I see the way Jace's eyes rake down her body—fucking asshole. Molly must notice it, too, because she shifts beside me, letting out an annoyed sigh.
She tries to tell me something, but I don't even pretend like I am listening to her.
"Tessa?" Jace grins. He takes a large drag from the blunt before continuing, "How did you stumble across these assholes?" He asks her, pointing mostly at Nate. Jace doesn't like Steph, he never has. I can't say I do either, but I tolerate her more.
"She knew Hardin first," Steph throws me under the bus, like always. I should have expected it—I roll my eyes at her, but Jace notices the tension.
"Is that so?" He turns to me with a smirk. "Hardin, you never told me about this one."
I have always liked Jace as a friend—he is older, he's been through more shit, and he doesn't care for bullshit drama. But this is one of the few times I have ever loathed him as a person.
"It's not like that, Jace," I say, keeping my voice light as as I try to brush the whole thing off.
"What is it like, then?" Jace retorts, giving me an I-don't-buy-it look.
"It's nothing," I tell him, shooting him a hard glare. Jace's game continues, and he turns his full attention to Tessa.
"You single? Seeing someone?" He asks her. Fucking asshole, motherfucker. A few of the others laugh, but I don't. I want to punch him square in the jaw, and hear the satisfying crack of his teeth, but I dig my fingernails into the palms of my hands.
"I have a boyfriend," Tessa replies, trying to remain polite. I wish she wouldn't, but I know it's for her own good. I wonder if she knows Jace is bad company—it makes me wonder why I even hang around him. It's not like I am much better for her.
"A nice boyfriend," I say without thinking. Tessa glares at me, and I admire her fury.
"Who is this nice boyfriend?" Jace asks, looking between the both of us. Unfortunately for me, Jace is very observant—intuitive, even. "I know a lot of people here, maybe I know him."
"You don't," Tessa says, defensively. She is mad at me for bringing this up. "He doesn't go to this university." He doesn't go here because he's still in high school. She would kill me if I told them that.
"No?" Jace quirks a brow at her, "Where does he go?"
"UCLA," Tessa lies, glancing at Steph nervously. Steph is too busy sucking in smoke to pay our conversation any attention.
"Ah, so you're long distance," He continues, "Are you from Cali?" Tessa shakes her head. I bet Steph doesn't even know half of what I know about her yet. "Well are you looking to have some fun out here? Get into some trouble… you know, your nice boyfriend doesn't have to know about any of it."
Tessa's eyes flicker to me immediately—probably to see if I am laughing under my breath like these other assholes—but I'm not laughing, and Jace is seconds away from becoming a dead man.
Tessa snorts, "I'm not."
"That's too bad," Jace coos aloud to himself. He looks at me again, and quietly adds, "Maybe some benzo would loosen her up."
"Fuck you," I seethe, not caring if he throws the first punch. I want to fight now. Molly grabs my wrist, but I'm only disgusted by it and I wrench my arm from her grasp.
"Leave her alone, Jace," Molly says, "she's too goody-goody for your kind of trouble."
"Whatever," Jace scoffs, rolling his eyes. He turns back to Tessa, and adds, "Well, since you're here… join us. It's only pot."
"I don't smoke," Tessa says.
"Have you ever?"
"No." I knew this to be true already, but I'm relieved to hear her confirm it.
"Booorrriiinggg!" Molly taunts, faking a yawn. "Told you she's too goody-goody." Steph really needs to stop inviting her to these parties—not because she shouldn't have some fun, but she clearly doesn't fit in among us and Steph just doesn't care.
Tessa says something to Steph then, and begins to walk back to the house. I don't want her to go, but I don't want her to stay under Jace's microscope either. Molly continues to taunt her as she disappears into the house, and Jace starts asking me questions I don't feel like answering.
"Where did you find such an uptight girl?" Jace asks, chuckling to himself, "She's got a feisty attitude."
"She's also got a boyfriend," Molly says, mocking Tessa's voice in a high pitch whine, "She's so annoying."
"She's not that bad," Steph speaks up.
"Will you all shut the fuck up?" I snap at them.
"Seriously?" Molly rolls her eyes, "What's your problem, Hardin? Don't tell me you actually care about her."
"Fuck this," I stand up, knocking Molly to the side as I go, and I stalk toward the house away from the others. I don't care what they have to say about it, about me, or about Tessa.
Sometimes I really hate Jace, and Molly is no better when he's around—I don't let Jace know anything that matters to me, because he does things to spite me. It's fucked up, and I don't know why I keep his company around—there is no reason to, but I just do.
In the house, the party is crowded and I have to push my way to get to the stairs. There's a massive game of beer pong going on in the living room as I pass by, but I don't pay any attention to it—it's always the same old thing at these parties.
It was nice slipping away from it all, those few times.
I can't help but wonder where Tessa went, if she left maybe, while I make my way to my room upstairs. I fight the urge to lock the door behind me—I always do, out of habit, but not this time.
I turn the lamp on in my room and try to read, but the noise is too loud and I find it hard to concentrate. It is also because I am still a bit high; though it's wearing off and I'm not ready to come down from it yet.
From my room, I can see the backyard. The others have gone inside, and only the embers remain of the fire. I decide to climb up onto the roof, just to get away from it all for a while.
My isolation is short-lived, however.
It seems she can't stay away from me, like I can't stay away from her. Somehow, I knew she would just walk in—under normal circumstances, I would probably curse her out and make her leave for being so bold—because I wanted this. I knew I wasn't wrong about her.
She stands in front of my bookshelf, ghosting her fingers along the spines of each classic novel. I wonder which author made her fall in love with reading first.
She turns around when I shut the window, her eyes trailing up my body. "What are you doing?" I ask her.
"I was trying to get away from the noise," Tessa says softly, blushing at having been caught, "I don't know. Parties aren't really my thing…"
"Maybe you should stop going to them," I tell her, only partially joking. She looks at me with a curious expression, as if expecting something, before the corners of her lips turn up in a snarky smile.
"Maybe," she jokes back.
"Why my room?" I ask her, and though I already know the answer I want to hear her say it.
"It's the only room I remembered," she lies, the blush creeping back into her skin. I feel drunk with power over her body, the way it reacts to me.
"Nobody's allowed in here, you know," I tease her, keeping my tone light. She takes it the wrong way, as expected, and turns to leave. I don't want her to go, though.
Her skin is soft, wrapped around delicate muscle and bone, and I'm thankful when she doesn't try to pull away from my grasp. I turn her to face me, so she is reminded of why she doesn't want to leave.
I may be an asshole, but she is attracted to me at the very least—and me to her, and this is purely lust we're chasing. A very high level of lust, but lust all the same.
I can feel the pulse in her wrist quickening the longer I hold her, and it's all the confirmation I need.
"You don't have to go. I mean, I don't like people being in my room… but sometimes it gets lonely," I confess, watching her eyes soften at my words.
"Okay," she murmurs breathlessly. She pulls her wrist from my hold, and steps further into the room, observing our surroundings.
Her eyes linger on the four poster bed, before she turns back to me and asks, "Why aren't you with your friends?" What a strangely normal question—that's not what I thought she was thinking about, but perhaps she's trying to distract herself from what she's really thinking about.
"They're not really my friends, I guess," I say after a long pause, "they're cool to hang out with… I know them, so I guess that makes them my friends, but I don't care for them much."
"You don't seem to care for a lot of things," Tessa remarks—she tries to brush off that she's said that out loud, but I like her honesty.
"You're right," I tell her. "I don't. It's easier not to."
"Why?" She asks. Always curious. I'm not surprised, but I'm not willing to answer that question truthfully either.
"It just is," I say.
"Okay," she nods once, and looks around the room again when we fall back into a loud silence. I feel the skin on the back of my neck heat up, like it always does when I start to feel anxious. I cross the room to my bed, sitting on the edge to take my boots off.
I see Tessa move in the corner of my eye, and soon enough she is standing a few feet away, watching me for a moment. She looks into my eyes for permission—I pat the spot next to me, and she quickly sits down.
Her knee bumps into my leg, and the sudden contact makes me picture her straddling my lap, my hands running up her slim thighs to her beautiful hips. I imagine digging my fingers into the flesh of her skin, bringing her as close as possible while I move in and out of her.
I think about how she would move with me, her legs tightening around me and what kind of rhythm our bodies would find together.
"What did Jace say earlier?" She asks cautiously, as if we weren't in complete silence just moments ago. I sigh. It's not her fault really—Jace should have kept his fucking mouth shut.
"Don't worry about it," I tell her, shaking my head. I don't want to discuss Jace, or the others for that matter. Right now, it is just us in this room—I should lock the door now, and keep her here, all to myself. Would that freak her out? Probably.
"Do you smoke often?" Tessa asks. I'm thankful for something to talk about, however, even if she's asking me yet another question.
"I don't smoke cigarettes," I answer, "but I smoke pot from time to time."
"Is that what everyone was smoking earlier?" She asks. Has she never been around it before? How sheltered is this girl? I get an idea then—I have only ever seen it once, in an R-rated movie, but I could get her to agree to it.
It's just dangerous enough to tempt her, and safe enough that she would agree to it.
"Does that bother you?" I ask. She considers my question for a long moment before answering. "I just want to know how you feel about it before I use it again," I say, pulling out the last roll Jace gave me earlier. I planned on saving it, but I only have one shot and I plan on succeeding here.
"It wouldn't bother me, I guess," Tessa says, "I don't really have much experience with it…"
"It's only marijuana, nothing crazy," I reassure her. With her uptight attitude, she could use something to loosen her up a bit. "It doesn't do any harm. It just relaxes you, really."
"You won't get in trouble for doing it in here?" Tessa asks, her eyes are so wide with innocent curiosity. It stops every thought I have for a moment—I can't help admiring her innocence, it really is quite adorable.
Adorable. Really, Scott?
"Nobody cares," I say, chuckling at her expression, "besides, they all do it. They're liars if they claim they haven't." Every asshole in this frat house has, and given that we're at a party, I wouldn't be surprised if they were downstairs taking hits right now.
"Okay then," Tessa shrugs. I smirk at her—now we're getting somewhere.
"You're more than welcome to try some, if you want," I offer, holding it out to her. Her eyes go wide again, and this time she looks purely terrified. I laugh, "it's just a fucking plant, Tessa."
My words don't seem to ease the anxiety on her face. I shift closer, so the side of my thigh aligns perfectly with hers. I want to reach across the little space that remains and pull her closer to me, and I wonder if it's the drug making me so confident, or just crazy.
"I could make it easier on you—if you don't want to inhale too much smoke on the first hit," I say. This has her curiosity. Her eyes light up, and I know she has many questions.
"How could you make it easier?" Perfect. Without saying another word, I light the blunt and bring it to my lips, breathing in slowly. I have her full attention now.
Immediately, she scrunches her nose the moment the smoke hits her face. It really does have an awful smell.
"Want to try?" I ask her again.
"Yes," She nearly whispers, finding her voice. Does she know what I'm going to do? Or does not knowing intrigue her more?
"I wouldn't give you anything that could hurt you," I reassure her, looking into her eyes so I know she is serious about her answer. She nods eagerly, and I don't hide my smirk. I move as close as I can one last time—I notice her breathing has picked up. I love the way her body reacts, every indication in plain sight. "Sit still and open your mouth," I imagine a very dirty image in my head, but quickly move on, "and inhale what I give you, okay? When you inhale it, just hold it for a few seconds or for as long as you can."
Tessa nods again.
I breathe in a large puff of smoke, holding it in my lungs for a long moment, before I lean forward—my heart is pounding in my chest. The thought alone is hot enough.
Tessa almost forgets to part her lips, but she does the moment I begin to let go of the smoke.
She breathes in slow, despite her quick pulse. As the last of the smoke leaves my mouth, I pull back and watch her while she isn't looking at me. Watching her inhale the smoke I exhaled is erotic—so fucking sensual, and it makes me the hardest I have ever felt before.
She tries to hold off the coughing fit threatening her. I know the smoke bothers them, she is not used to anything like this. Her eyes open, and this time she does cough. Her eyes are a light pink already, glistening with tears.
She looks striking—for once, joining me in my darkness and letting go. She has no control right now, and I wonder if she feels vulnerable or alive.
I need to see her do it again.
I don't tell her I am going to do it this time, I just do. She catches on quickly, and I know this time it is much easier. Tessa holds it longer, only by a few seconds, but she smiles and it's a lazy grin on her beautiful face.
"That wasn't so bad, right?" I ask. Maybe it's selfish of me for wanting to get her fucked up and uninhibited around me, but everything is brand new to her—I love the way her eyes light up when she experiences something new, and it's only heightened by the fact that I get to be the only one to see it.
"No," Tessa giggles, biting her lip, "that wasn't."
"I enjoyed that a lot," I tell her, taking in the look on her face. After the second time, she's definitely feeling the effects. "How do you feel?"
"Warm," She half moans, half laughs, "and relaxed." Her skin flushes, just the lightest shade of pink as she realizes she has no control over her thoughts anymore.
"Want to try the real thing?" Tessa shakes her head, but her grin stretches and I know maybe one day I will get her to. But I'm content if she never does—she doesn't need to try the real thing, and if we can just do more like this, I'll be happy. "Am I corrupting you?"
"I think so," she hiccups, staring straight at my mouth. Does she want me to do it again?
"But you're letting me," I tease her.
"Yes, I think so," she laughs again, and when she looks at me this time her eyes are a glassy, bright red. She's high, and the devil on my shoulder is clapping for me.
"Do you want me to do it again?"
"Please," Tessa nearly begs, leaning forward eagerly. I wonder if she would let me kiss her. I haven't stopped thinking about her lips—those damned lips. I have never felt an overwhelming urge to kiss somebody before, but that's all I've felt lately. And not just anybody—her, her lips.
This time, I lean up to meet her halfway. I press the tips of my fingers beneath her chin to hold her still, and immediately she parts her lips before I've even done anything else. Fuck.
I watch her the entire time, as I bring the drug up to my mouth once again and inhale. My body begins to tingle, the effects finally begin to kick in for me—or maybe it's her, being so close to her.
I nearly close the space between our lips, and I exhale the smoke. Tessa breathes in what I give her—I don't think about what I am doing until my lips graze her bottom one, and it takes everything in me not to pull it between my teeth and gently bite down.
It happens quickly, before I can register what she is doing. Tessa tilts her chin up, pressing her mouth to mine as light as a feather, shaky and uncertain despite her high.
That does it for me. My hands move to rest on both sides of her face, and I am kissing her again, hard—harder than I mean to, but it's everything I have wanted for the last two days. Fuck, the last two months since that night at the side of the pool.
She gasps into my mouth, but it's quickly replaced by a soft moan when I bite down on her lip. I trace over the marks with the tip of my tongue, begging for her to open her mouth. She grants me my wish and deepens the kiss, wrapping her arms around my neck desperately.
I need her closer. Fuck. This just isn't enough, and my body is burning for the feeling of hers.
I brush my thumb across her cheekbone, slowing the pace of the kiss immediately—I feel like I may burst into flames. I resist the urge to lift her shirt up and touch her skin—would my touch burn her the way she burns me?
I am even more wound up now than I was watching her inhale my smoke, but I know the only thing that could satisfy me is her. I want her body—I think I need her body, but I can't take it. Not while her thoughts are clouded like this.
Still, I pull her across the space so that she is straddling my lap. I don't even care that she can feel how hard I am for her—I want her to know how fucked up she's made me. I want her to know that I have only ever felt this hungry for her, and only her. Fuck.
I am fucked—completely and utterly fucked. She can have my body, however she wants it, I would give it to her just to have her stay. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
The need for her burns like a white, hot branding iron in my groin. Her small body on top of mine feels so warm and soft; her body feels like heaven—so innocent, but built so perfectly for doing sinful things.
I am so hard it's excruciating—I may come undone from this alone. Her fingers slip beneath the hem of my t-shirt, touching the skin above my waistband and it sets my skin on fire. Her nails dig into me, but the pain is exquisite.
"I've been thinking about kissing you since you asked me that absurd question," I say, panting against her neck. I brush my knuckles across her cheekbone, and I notice her skin is wet. What the fuck? "Are you crying?" I pull back to look at her. "What is it?"
"I just got overwhelmed," Tessa sighs, resting her face against the palm of my hand. "I wasn't thinking straight…"
What? Does that mean…? She wasn't as into it as I thought—I forced myself onto her. Is that why she was crying? No! She wanted me to kiss her—why did she change her mind?
I pull away, moving her off of my lap, and I ask her, "What do you mean?"
"W-what happened?" Tessa stammers, confusion masks her face and her eyes are wide, brimming with more tears.
"You kisses me, Tessa," I retort, "but now you regret it? You weren't thinking straight?"
"Hardin—,"
"—Get out," I can't look at her, I feel too ashamed. I should have known she would regret it, but I had hoped she wouldn't. She stares, stunned, but doesn't move from her spot on the bed. "Get out!"
"What is your problem?" Tessa shouts at me, and when she rises to stand in front of me she is angry. She stands eye level with me so I have to look at her. I could stand up and get the higher advantage—I could intimidate her, but I don't have the energy.
"My problem is you!" I snap. Her gasp is the worst sound I have ever heard—I shouldn't have said it, but I can't take it back now. She is my problem. She is snobby, pretentious, and uptight—but she's also considerate, and for some fucked up reason she cares too much about me even though she hardly knows me. And that's my own fault, but it's better if she doesn't. She is too good for me, and I am too selfish, or maybe just stupid enough to have ever believed I could deserve her.
Distraction or something more, but neither will happen and I can't ruin her like that. She deserves better than me. I'm not kind or good. She deserves better than her nice boyfriend too, but I won't tell her that.
"I don't understand what I did to make you act like this," Tessa says, trying to keep her voice from shaking. It doesn't work, and it only makes me feel worse but I deserve her anger. "But if you're going to flip the switch every time I say something you don't like then we have no friendship—we don't even have any sort of relationship for that matter! I'm tired of waiting for you to prove to me you're somebody different, Hardin! Somebody kind and understanding, and not an arrogant jerk like you!" She is screaming at me now, and I'm certain that somebody can hear us over the noise downstairs. I wouldn't be surprised if some asshole was outside the door listening.
Why would she keep giving me the chance to prove anything to her? Why would she waste her time on me? She cares more than she lets on—I need to hear her say it.
"Admit it, Tessa."
"Admit what?" She huffs out in a rush of breath, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Admit what you feel for me," I tell her, "Admit that you're bored with your nice boyfriend back home. That I make you feel different than he does."
"What?" Tessa gasps, horrified, and I can tell she wants to deny it—though I wouldn't expect her to admit it without a fight.
"Admit it," I say again.
"You're not serious—,"
"—I'm dead serious, Tessa. Admit it now, or leave. Your choice." She stares, angry and stunned, and I can already see the argument brewing in her head. She takes her time answering, and I know she won't admit it—but she isn't leaving, either. I'm right. I stand up from the bed, and move toward her. I smirk, "Thought so."
She looks pissed, like a wild animal, as I walk her back until she is between me and the nightstand.
"You're wrong, Hardin." She rubs at the angry tears threatening her eyes. Does she always cry when she's mad enough? Or always crying in general. "So wrong."
"I'm not wrong," I tell her, "not about this."
"Why do you keep doing this?" She asks, keeping her voice low. "Why are you always pursuing me and then acting like you hate me the next minute? Why do you always tell me to leave and then when I try to you corner me? Why are you playing this game with me, just tell me what did I do? Why do you want to hurt me all of the time?" She throws each question at me, one after the other, clearly hysterical. I can see her hands shaking at her sides, and how white her knuckles turn as she holds the table to support herself. "You literally don't make any sense, Hardin! I won't continue to play this game with you. I knew this was a mistake, over and over again and I keep letting it happen but I can't do this anymore."
She thinks I'm playing games with her? She wouldn't know it if I was—but I'm not, so that's that. Why does she care so much?
I don't know why I need to hear her admit her feelings; I don't care—I don't. It doesn't matter, nothing ever does to me and she's no exception. I have to remember that.
"You came to find me, tonight," I say after a long moment, "and you kissed me first. You think I'm pursuing you, but you're throwing yourself at me."
Tessa's eyes glass over again, and I know I've struck a cord.
"You want me to admit my feelings for you…" she says, her eyes cutting me like glass with her anger, "You're nothing but an arrogant asshole. So congratulations, Hardin… you finally made me hate you!" She seethes, her tears finally fall and I know she wants to mean it. She doesn't though.
The feeling in my stomach, as her words settle in, still rattle me to my core despite the lack of conviction. She hates me. I made her hate me. I deserve it, but I suddenly wish I was someone better.
"You don't mean that…" I say, looking away. I shouldn't let her see that it bothers me, but I can't help it. Nobody has ever denied me this way—hell, no one has ever had the nerve to, except for her.
Why her?
Of course it had to be her.
This girl, that shouldn't mean a damn thing to me, means everything to me. And I can't fucking get her out of my head.
"I don't," she agrees, releasing a shaky breath. She sounds exhausted, "I don't hate you. But I hate the way you make me feel, Hardin. I told you before, you make me feel hateful and that's not who I want to be."
Tessa turns so I can't see her crying, but I know she is. She wipes at her eyes.
"Don't cry, Tess…" I start to say, reaching for her without thinking. She flinches from my touch—fuck.
"Don't touch me, please," she quietly sobs, stepping around me to get some space. She sits back down on my bed, looking between her hands in her lap and the door.
What just happened?
Why can't we just be friends? … We really are horrible at this. Fuck. I don't want us to go back to nothing. But maybe it's for the best… I can't be better. I can't be more for her. She needs someone that can give her everything, not someone as broken and fucked up as me.
Why do I even fucking care?
Why do I want to be better for her? Why?
"I'm going to leave now," Tessa says, rising from the bed. She starts to cross the room, and I decide I don't want her to walk out that door without an answer of what we are.
"Do you need a ride back?" I ask.
"No," she shakes her head quickly, "I drove here."
She didn't want to get stranded here again—fucking Steph, of course Tessa would be prepared for that.
"Okay," is all I say.
She looks at me for a moment, a worried expression crossing her face, "Can we not tell the others…?"
Of fucking course. Not that I planned to tell them anyways—but this just confirms what she thinks of me. She thinks I'll gloat the details, and embellish them, so I look like I got more out of her.
"Tell them what?" I shrug. Her face falls, but she quickly recovers.
"About our…"
"People kiss all the time, Tessa," I retort, the words feeling like acid on my tongue. This kiss was much more than that—but now, it will just have to mean nothing. "I don't plan on telling anyone."
She nods once, "Okay then."
I should follow her. I should. I try to move but my feet are like cement blocks, holding me in place. I have to let her go.
This became more than it should have, and I let it. If I were to care for her, something would take her away from me. Whether that be my own demons, or the realization that I am not worth the trouble I carry with me.
I am not the same as her, and that will never change.
xxxxx
Molly tries to hand me her cup, but I decline it.
"One drink wouldn't hurt," she says, bringing it to her lips. I give her a look.
"I don't trust myself," I mumble, annoyed.
"You're young, Hardin," she rolls her eyes, "you're supposed to get drunk and forget it all."
"That's fucking stupid, and even you know it."
"It's a distraction."
"It's not going to happen," I snap. Molly gives me a look back that says 'suit yourself.' She tips her head all the way back, and drinks the last of the alcohol in her cup. She crushes it in her hands and tosses it onto the lawn.
"You know, Jace tried looking for her after you went upstairs," She says after a moment, digging the heel of her shoe into the dirt.
"I don't care," I say.
"Is that why you're in a bad mood?" She asks.
"I'm not in a bad mood."
"Whatever you say," she shrugs a shoulder, "but I know you, Hardin. We may act like we don't give a shit about each other, but something's bothering you."
"I need a distraction, not a fucking therapist."
"Jace wants to 'get to know her,' as he put it," she continues, gauging my reaction. I glance at her, giving her a hard glare.
"He just wants to fuck her," I roll my eyes.
"You know, what Jace said about her was kinda fucked up." Molly says, flipping her hair over her shoulder. She picks at her nails, like she doesn't care what she's talking about, but I know she does, somewhat.
I don't know much about Molly's past, only little of what she has told me, but I know she witnessed some fucked up shit. What Jace said hits home for her. It's fucked, so I know she is bringing it up for a reason, "the benzo comment. Do you think he would really do that to a girl?"
I shrug, but the thought sinks like a stone in my chest, "I'd like to hope not. But Jace is a dick—I wouldn't put it past him. He knows where to get that shit."
"That's so fucked," she says absentmindedly. I smirk, elbowing her ribs.
"Look who has a heart—," I start, while Molly rolls her eyes at me.
"—I'm not saying I care what happens to her," she scoffs, shaking her head, "I don't like her. But that's low. Even for Jace."
"I don't like her either," I chuckle.
"Yeah, sure…" Molly laughs, "you don't like her, that's why you two can't seem to stay away from each other."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not dumb, Hardin." She gives me a knowing stare, waiting for me to catch on, "You're always looking at her—,"
"I am not—,"
"—You are. You can't lie to me," she smirks. "She's always looking at you, too. Or you're always around each other. It's weird."
"It's weird?"
"Hardin Scott doesn't date," Molly says, mocking me. I scoff. "So why is Hardin Scott chasing this girl?"
"She hates me."
"You're a bad boy," Molly says in a fake, innocent tone, "She's intrigued… she may claim she hates you, but she's probably thinking the same thing that every other girl you've fucked around with has thought."
"Are you admitting you like me?" I joke. She pretends to make herself throw up.
"Like you?" She asks, a glint in her eye, "Please. I tolerate you. You're a good fuck, that's all I care about."
"That's why you tried to play Dr. Phil on my brain?" I say, tossing her an eye roll of my own. "I tolerate you, too." I say after a moment. Then add, "And I'm not chasing her." Molly snorts.
"Whatever you say, Scott." She stands up from the grass, towering above me from my own spot. I glance up at her, squinting through the sunlight. "Enough serious talk. Let me distract you for a bit."
"I'm not returning the favor," I tell her bluntly. She smirks.
"Don't worry. I wasn't expecting you to."
"Good."