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I swat at his arm, but he grabs my wrist before I can connect. His lips press a light kiss against my palm before he encases my hand in his and leads me to the car. Holding hands in public is never our thing . . . As soon as the thought crosses my mind, he seems to realize what we’re doing and drops my hand. One step at a time, I suppose.
BACK AT THE APARTMENT, after I’ve declared for the eighth time that we should hang out with his friends, my nerves begin to get the best of me as I imagine the possibilities of how the night could turn out. But we can’t hide from the world forever. How Hardin behaves around his old friends will really show me how he truly feels about me, about us.
When I shower, I shave my legs three times, staying under the hot water until it is no longer warm. When I get out, I ask Hardin, “What did Nate say about tonight?” I’m unsure what I want the answer to be.
“He texted to meet them at the house . . . my old house. At nine. They’re having a big thing, apparently.”
I glance at the clock: already seven. “Okay, I’ll be ready.”
I do my makeup and blow-dry my hair quickly. My hair is in tight curls, and I pin my bangs back as usual. I look . . . nice . . .
Boring. Boring. The same as I always do. I need to look better than ever before for my comeback. This is my way of showing them that they didn’t get the best of me. If Molly is there, she’ll certainly be dressed to get attention, including Hardin’s. And as much as I hate her, she is gorgeous. Molly’s pink hair burning in the back of my mind, I grab my black eyeliner and draw a thick line across my top eyelid; for once the line is straight, blessedly. I do the same on the bottom and add more pink to my cheeks before pulling the bobby pin from my hair and tossing it in the trash.
Quickly, I retrieve the pin from the top of the trash. Okay, so maybe I’m not quite ready to throw it away yet, but I’ll skip it tonight. I flip my head down and rake my fingers through my tight curls. The reflection in the mirror shocks me. She looks like she belongs in a nightclub, she looks wild and . . . sexy, even. The last time that I wore this much makeup was when Steph gave me a “makeover” and Hardin taunted me. This time, I look even better.
“It’s eight thirty, Tess!” Hardin warns me from the living room.
I check the mirror one last time and take a deep breath before rushing to the bedroom to get dressed before Hardin can see me. What if he thinks I look bad? Last time he didn’t care for my new and improved look. I shut off my doubtful thoughts and pull the dress over my head, zip it up, and step into my new pumps.
Maybe I should wear tights? No. I need to calm down and stop overthinking this.
“Tessa, we really need—” Hardin’s voice gets louder as he comes into the room, but then stops midsentence.
“Do I look—”
“Yes, fuck yes,” he practically growls.
“You don’t think it’s too much, all the makeup?”
“No, it’s . . . um . . . it’s nice, I mean . . . it’s good,” he stammers.
I try not to laugh at his apparent loss for words, something that never occurs with him. “Let’s go . . . we need to go now or we won’t make it out of this apartment,” he mutters.
His reaction has given my confidence an extreme boost. I know it shouldn’t, but it does. He looks flawless as usual, wearing a simple black T-shirt and snug black jeans. The black Converses I’ve quickly become fond of complete the look I know as “Hardin.”
Chapter fifty-six
TESSA
The Fray quietly sings about forgiveness as we pull up to Hardin’s old fraternity house. The drive here was nerve-racking, and both of us stayed silent. Memories, mostly bad memories, flood my mind, but I push them back. Hardin and I are in a relationship now, a real one, so he’ll be different now. Won’t he?
Hardin stays close to me as we walk through the crowded house to the smoke-filled living room. Red cups are immediately placed in our hands, but Hardin discards his quickly before taking mine from me. I reach to take it back, and he frowns.
“I don’t think we should drink tonight,” he says.
“I don’t think you should drink tonight.”
“Fine, only one,” he warns and hands me back the cup.
“Scott!” a familiar voice calls. Nate appears in the kitchen and pats Hardin’s shoulder before giving me a friendly smile. I’d almost forgotten how cute he is. I try to picture what he’d look like without tattoos and piercings, but I can’t seem to do it. “Wow, Tessa, you look . . . different,” he says.
Hardin rolls his eyes and grabs my drink from my hand to take a sip. I want to take it from him, but I don’t want to cause a fight. One drink won’t hurt. I slide my phone into Hardin’s back pocket so I can hold my cup more easily.
“Well . . . well . . . well . . . look who it is,” a female voice says at the same time as a mop of pink hair steps around a big round guy.
“Great.” Hardin groans as Molly the skank walks toward us.
“Long time no see, Hardin,” she says with a sinister grin.
“Yep.” He takes another drink from the cup.
Her eyes move to me. “Oh, Tessa! I didn’t see you there,” she says with obvious sarcasm.
I ignore her, and Nate hands me a new drink.
“Did you miss me?” Molly asks Hardin. She’s wearing more than usual, which is to say she’s still barely clothed. Her black shirt is ripped down the front, purposely, I assume. Her red shorts are incredibly short, with tears in the fabric going up the sides, revealing even more pale skin.