Page 21
Story: After We Collided (After 2)
So I ignore the sick feeling in my stomach. I close my eyes and move my tongue across his. I’ve kissed more guys in my three months at college than I have in my whole life. The stranger’s hands move to my back and inch down farther.
“Do you want to come back to my place?” he says as our mouths disconnect.
“What?” I heard him, but something in me hopes that by saying what I say I can erase that question.
“My place, let’s go,” he slurs.
“Oh . . . I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Oh, it’s a good idea.” He laughs. The multicolored lights strobe across his face, making him look odd and much more threatening than before.
“What makes you think I would go home with you? I don’t even know you!” I shout over the music.
“Because you were just all over me and loved it, you dirty girl,” he says like it’s obvious, and not offensive.
Just as I prepare myself to scream at him, or knee him in the crotch, I try to calm down and think clearly for a second. I was just grinding on this guy, and then I kissed him. Of course he’s going to want more. What the hell is wrong with me? I just made out with a stranger in a club—this is not me.
“I’m sorry, but no,” I say and walk away.
When I get back my group, Trevor looks like he’s about to fall asleep on the couch. I can’t help but smile at his adorableness.
Is that even a word? God, I drank too much.
I take a seat and grab a bottled water out of the ice bin on the table.
“Have fun?” Kimberly asks me, and I nod.
“Yeah, I had a great time,” I say, despite what happened a few minutes ago.
“Are you almost ready, honey? We have to get up early,” Christian says to Kim.
“Yup. I’m ready when you are.” She runs her hand up his thigh. I look away and feel my cheeks flush.
I poke Trevor. “Are you coming or are you going to sleep here?” I tease.
He laughs and sits up straight. “I haven’t decided, this couch is comfortable. The music so soothing . . .”
Christian calls the driver, who says he’ll be here in a few minutes. We all get up and decide to walk down the spiral staircase that runs along one side of the club. At the first-floor bar, Kimberly orders one last drink, and I debate whether to have another while we wait, but realize I’ve had enough. If I have another, I might pass out, or throw up. Neither of which I want to do.
When Christian gets a text, we all move toward the exit. I welcome the cold air on my hot skin, thankful there is only a light breeze as we climb into the car.
It’s almost three in the morning when we get back to the hotel. I’m drunk and starving. After raiding my minifridge and eating almost everything inside, I stumble over to the bed and plop down without even removing my shoes.
Chapter sixteen
TESSA
Shhhrrrrut up,” I grumble when an obnoxious noise pulls me from my drunken slumber. It takes me a few seconds to realize the noise isn’t my mother yelling at me for something, but rather someone banging on my door.
“God, I’m coming!” I shout and stumble my way to the door.
But then I stop and glance at the clock on the desk: it’s almost four in the morning. Who the hell could that be?
Even in my drunken state, my mind begins to race with sharp fear. What if it’s Hardin? It’s been over three hours since I drunk-dialed him, but how would he find me? What will I say to him? I’m not ready for this.
When the pounding recommences, I throw all my thoughts aside and swing the door open, preparing for the worst.
But it’s just Trevor. Disappointment stings in my chest, and I wipe at my eyes. I feel just as drunk now as I did when I lay down.
“Sorry for waking you, but do you have my phone?” he asks.
“Huh?” I say and back into the room so he can enter. When the door swings shut behind him, we’re engulfed in relative darkness, the only light being from the city outside my window. I’m too drunk to find the light switch, though.
“I think our phones got switched. I have yours and I think you grabbed mine by accident.” He holds my phone out in his palm. “I was going to wait until the morning, but yours just wouldn’t stop ringing and ringing.”
“Oh” is all I say, I walk over and open my purse. Sure enough, Trevor’s phone is sitting on top of my wallet.
“I’m sorry . . . must have grabbed yours in the car,” I apologize and hand it to him.
“It’s okay. I’m really sorry for waking you up. You’re the only girl I know who looks just as beautiful when she wakes up as she did—”
A loud banging at the door cuts him off, and the sudden noise infuriates me.
“What the hell is this? Party in Tessa’s room?” I yell and stomp to the door, ready to yell at whatever hotel employee is likely here to reprimand me for the noise Trevor made, ironically by making more noise than he did.
Just as I reach for the door, the noise gets even louder, which shocks me into stillness. I then I hear it: “Tessa! Open this damn door!” Hardin’s voice booms through the air, as if no barrier at all stood between us. A light flips on behind me, and I see Trevor’s face pale with real fear.
Hardin finding him in my room won’t go over well, regardless of what was really going on.
“Hide in the bathroom,” I say, and Trevor’s eyes widen.
“What? I can’t hide in the bathroom!” he exclaims, and I realize how ridiculous that idea is.
“Open the fucking door!” Hardin yells again, and then he starts kicking it. Repeatedly.
“Do you want to come back to my place?” he says as our mouths disconnect.
“What?” I heard him, but something in me hopes that by saying what I say I can erase that question.
“My place, let’s go,” he slurs.
“Oh . . . I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Oh, it’s a good idea.” He laughs. The multicolored lights strobe across his face, making him look odd and much more threatening than before.
“What makes you think I would go home with you? I don’t even know you!” I shout over the music.
“Because you were just all over me and loved it, you dirty girl,” he says like it’s obvious, and not offensive.
Just as I prepare myself to scream at him, or knee him in the crotch, I try to calm down and think clearly for a second. I was just grinding on this guy, and then I kissed him. Of course he’s going to want more. What the hell is wrong with me? I just made out with a stranger in a club—this is not me.
“I’m sorry, but no,” I say and walk away.
When I get back my group, Trevor looks like he’s about to fall asleep on the couch. I can’t help but smile at his adorableness.
Is that even a word? God, I drank too much.
I take a seat and grab a bottled water out of the ice bin on the table.
“Have fun?” Kimberly asks me, and I nod.
“Yeah, I had a great time,” I say, despite what happened a few minutes ago.
“Are you almost ready, honey? We have to get up early,” Christian says to Kim.
“Yup. I’m ready when you are.” She runs her hand up his thigh. I look away and feel my cheeks flush.
I poke Trevor. “Are you coming or are you going to sleep here?” I tease.
He laughs and sits up straight. “I haven’t decided, this couch is comfortable. The music so soothing . . .”
Christian calls the driver, who says he’ll be here in a few minutes. We all get up and decide to walk down the spiral staircase that runs along one side of the club. At the first-floor bar, Kimberly orders one last drink, and I debate whether to have another while we wait, but realize I’ve had enough. If I have another, I might pass out, or throw up. Neither of which I want to do.
When Christian gets a text, we all move toward the exit. I welcome the cold air on my hot skin, thankful there is only a light breeze as we climb into the car.
It’s almost three in the morning when we get back to the hotel. I’m drunk and starving. After raiding my minifridge and eating almost everything inside, I stumble over to the bed and plop down without even removing my shoes.
Chapter sixteen
TESSA
Shhhrrrrut up,” I grumble when an obnoxious noise pulls me from my drunken slumber. It takes me a few seconds to realize the noise isn’t my mother yelling at me for something, but rather someone banging on my door.
“God, I’m coming!” I shout and stumble my way to the door.
But then I stop and glance at the clock on the desk: it’s almost four in the morning. Who the hell could that be?
Even in my drunken state, my mind begins to race with sharp fear. What if it’s Hardin? It’s been over three hours since I drunk-dialed him, but how would he find me? What will I say to him? I’m not ready for this.
When the pounding recommences, I throw all my thoughts aside and swing the door open, preparing for the worst.
But it’s just Trevor. Disappointment stings in my chest, and I wipe at my eyes. I feel just as drunk now as I did when I lay down.
“Sorry for waking you, but do you have my phone?” he asks.
“Huh?” I say and back into the room so he can enter. When the door swings shut behind him, we’re engulfed in relative darkness, the only light being from the city outside my window. I’m too drunk to find the light switch, though.
“I think our phones got switched. I have yours and I think you grabbed mine by accident.” He holds my phone out in his palm. “I was going to wait until the morning, but yours just wouldn’t stop ringing and ringing.”
“Oh” is all I say, I walk over and open my purse. Sure enough, Trevor’s phone is sitting on top of my wallet.
“I’m sorry . . . must have grabbed yours in the car,” I apologize and hand it to him.
“It’s okay. I’m really sorry for waking you up. You’re the only girl I know who looks just as beautiful when she wakes up as she did—”
A loud banging at the door cuts him off, and the sudden noise infuriates me.
“What the hell is this? Party in Tessa’s room?” I yell and stomp to the door, ready to yell at whatever hotel employee is likely here to reprimand me for the noise Trevor made, ironically by making more noise than he did.
Just as I reach for the door, the noise gets even louder, which shocks me into stillness. I then I hear it: “Tessa! Open this damn door!” Hardin’s voice booms through the air, as if no barrier at all stood between us. A light flips on behind me, and I see Trevor’s face pale with real fear.
Hardin finding him in my room won’t go over well, regardless of what was really going on.
“Hide in the bathroom,” I say, and Trevor’s eyes widen.
“What? I can’t hide in the bathroom!” he exclaims, and I realize how ridiculous that idea is.
“Open the fucking door!” Hardin yells again, and then he starts kicking it. Repeatedly.
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