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“No, no, you said you needed to go to the store. What was it, plugs or something?”
“Plugs?”
“You know to . . . plug yourself.”
What? “I don’t get it . . .”
“Tampons.”
I blush. My whole body blushes, I’m sure. “Oh . . . no.”
“Do you even have a period?”
“Oh my God, Hardin, stop talking about it.”
“What? You’re embarrassed to talk about your men-stru-ation with me?” When he lifts up his face to look at me, a huge grin is plastered across it.
“I’m not embarrassed. It’s just inappropriate,” I defend, highly embarrassed.
He smiles. “We’ve done quiet a few inappropriate things, Theresa.”
“Don’t call me Theresa—and stop talking about it!” I groan and cover my face with my hands.
“Are you bleeding now?” I feel his hand travel down my stomach.
“No . . .” I lie.
I have gotten away from exactly this situation before because we’re always so on and off and it just never happened. Now that we’re going to be around each other more steadily, I knew this would happen—I just was avoiding it.
“So you wouldn’t mind if I . . .” His hand slips into the top of my panties.
“Hardin!” I squeal and smack his hand away.
He chuckles. “Admit it, then; say, ‘Hardin, I’m on my period.’?”
“No, I am not saying that.” I know my face is a deep red by now.
“Come on, it’s just a little blood.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Bloody amazing.” He smiles, obviously proud of his ridiculous joke.
“You’re obnoxious.”
“You need to lighten up . . . learn to go with the flow.” He laughs harder.
“Oh my God! Okay, if I say it, will you stop with the menstrual jokes?”
“I’m not making jokes. Period.”
His laugh is contagious, and it feels great to be lying in bed laughing with Hardin, despite the subject of conversation. “Hardin, I’m on my period. I just started right before you got home. There, are you happy?”
“Why are you embarrassed by it?”
“I’m not—I just don’t think it’s something that women should discuss.”
“It’s not a big deal, I don’t mind a little blood.” He presses himself against me.
I scrunch my nose. “You’re gross.”
“I’ve been called worse.” He smiles.
“You’re in a good mood today,” I point out.
“Maybe you would be, too, if it wasn’t that time of month.”
I groan and grab the pillow from behind me to cover my face. “Can we please talk about something else?” I say through the pillow.
“Sure . . . sure . . . someone’s bloody panties are in a twist.” He laughs.
I pull the pillow from my face and hit him in the head with it before climbing off the bed. I hear him laughing as he opens the dresser, to find a pair of pants, I assume. It’s early, only seven in the morning, but I’m wide awake. I start a pot of coffee and make myself a bowl of cereal. I can’t believe Christmas is over; in a few days the year will be over.
“What do you usually do to celebrate the New Year?” I ask Hardin when he sits down at the table in white cotton drawstring pants.
“Go out, usually.”
“Go where?”
“Parties, or a club. Or both. Last year was both.”
“Oh.” I hand him the bowl of cereal.
“What would you like to do?”
“I’m not sure. I want to go out, I think,” I answer.
He raises one eyebrow. “You do?”
“Yeah . . . don’t you?”
“I don’t really give a shit what we do, but if you want to go out, that is what we shall do.” He brings a spoonful of Frosted Flakes to his mouth.
“Okay . . .” I say, unsure of where we’ll go. I make myself another bowl. “Are you going to ask your father if we can stop by today?” I ask him and take seat next to him.
“I don’t know . . .”
“Maybe they could come here?” I suggest.
Hardin’s eyes narrow. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not? You’d be more comfortable here, right?”
He closes his eyes for a moment before opening them again. “I guess. Let me call them in a bit.”
I finish my breakfast quickly and stand up from the table.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“To clean, obviously.”
“Clean what? The place is spotless.”
“No, it’s not, and I want it to be perfect if we’re having guests over.” I rinse my bowl and place it in the dishwasher. “You could help clean, you know? Since you’re the one who makes most of the mess,” I point out.
“Oh no. You’re much better at cleaning than I am.” He gestures at the cereal box.
I roll my eyes but give it to him. I don’t mind cleaning, because, honestly, I like things a certain way, and Hardin’s version of cleaning isn’t actually cleaning. He just shoves things wherever they’ll fit.
“Oh, and don’t forget that we need to go to the store to get your plugs.” He laughs.
“Stop calling them that!” I throw a dish towel at his face, and he laughs harder at my embarrassment.
Chapter fifty
TESSA
After the apartment is clean to my standards, I go to the store to get tampons and a few things in case Ken, Karen, and Landon come over. Hardin tried to accompany me, but I knew he’d be teasing me about the tampons the entire time, so I made him stay home.