Page 180

“You still want to come, right?” I ask, dangling my underwear suggestively.
This is rewarded with a slight smirk. “No, I never wanted to come, but if you’re going, so am I.”
I give him a wide smile, but when I leave the room, he doesn’t follow. Which surprises me. I find myself kind of wishing he would this time. I don’t know where we stand at the moment. I know he’s pissed about Zed, and I’m upset that he’s hiding things from me again, but overall I’m thrilled that he’s here, and I don’t want to waste our time fighting.
I wrap a towel around my hair since I don’t have the time to wash and dry it before we leave. The hot water relieves some of the tension in my shoulders and back but doesn’t do much to clear my head. I need to work myself into a better mood within the hour. Hardin will be brooding all night, I’m sure. I want us to have a nice time out with Kimberly and Christian—I don’t want any awkward silence or public fighting. I want us to get along, and I want to be in a happy mood, both of us. I haven’t had a Seattle nightlife experience since I moved here, and I want my first to be as fun as possible. My guilt regarding Zed refuses to subside, but I’m relieved when my irritation and irrational thoughts slide down the drain along with the scalding water and suds of soap.
The moment I shut off the shower, Hardin knocks at the door. I wrap a towel around myself and take a deep breath before answering. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes. I need to try to do something with my hair,” I say, and when I look into the mirror, there’s Hardin standing behind me.
He squints at the frizzy mess on my head. “What’s wrong with it now?”
“It’s out of control.” I laugh. “It won’t take long.”
“You’re wearing that?” He eyes the uncomfortable black dress, which is hanging on the shower curtain, since I was trying to de-wrinkle it a bit. The last time I wore it, at the “family vacation,” it led to a disastrous night . . . well, week.
“Yes, Kimberly said there’s a dress code.”
“What kind of dress code?” Hardin looks down to his stained jeans and black T-shirt.
I shrug and smile to myself, imagining Kimberly telling Hardin to change his outfit.
“I’m not changing,” he tells me, and I shrug again.
Hardin’s eyes don’t leave my reflection in the mirror the entire time that I put on my makeup and wrestle with a flatiron and my hair. The steam from the shower has made it curl in a terrible way; there’s just no hope for it. I end up pulling it back into a low bun. At least my makeup actually looks really good. An even exchange for such a bad hair day.
“Are you staying until Sunday?” I ask him as I put on my underwear and step into my dress. I want to make sure the tension between us is under control, and we don’t spend the entire night arguing.
“Yes, why?” Hardin coolly responds.
“I was thinking that instead of spending Friday here in Seattle, we could go back and I could see Landon and Karen. Your father, too.”
“What about yours?”
“Oh yeah . . .” I had momentarily forgotten about my father staying with Hardin. “I’ve been trying really hard not to think about that situation until you can tell me more about it.”
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea . . .”
“Why not?” I ask. I miss Landon so much.
Hardin rubs the back of his neck with his hand. “I don’t know . . . All this shit with Steph and Zed . . .”
“Hardin, I’m not going to see Zed again, and unless Steph shows up at the apartment or your father’s house, I won’t be seeing her either.”
“I still don’t think you should go.”
“You have to lighten up a little bit.” I sigh, resetting the bun in my hair.
“Lighten up?” he says derisively, as if the idea has never occurred to him.
“Yes, lighten up. You can’t control everything.”
His head snaps up. “I ‘can’t control everything’? This is coming from you, of all people?”
I laugh. “I’m just saying. I’m giving you the Zed thing because I know it’s wrong, but you can’t keep me from the entire town because you’re worried that I might see him or some unpleasant girl.”
“Are you done?” Hardin asks, leaning against the sink.
“With the argument or my hair?” I smirk at him.
“You’re annoying.” He smiles back at me and slaps my behind as I move around him to exit the bathroom.
I’m glad he’s being somewhat playful. That bodes well for the night.
As we cross the hallway to my room, Christian calls up from the living room, “Hardin—you here still? You coming to listen to some jazz? It’s not heavy metal or whatever, but . . .”
I don’t hear the rest of his words because I’m busy laughing at the impromptu Christian Vance impersonation Hardin is doing. Pushing his chest lightly, I say, “Go see him. I’ll be right out.”
Back in my room, I grab my purse and check my cell phone. I have got to call my mother soon; I keep putting it off, and she won’t stop calling. I have a message from Zed as well.
Please don’t be upset with me about tonight. I was a jerk and I didn’t mean to be. Sorry.
I delete the message and stick my phone back into my purse. My friendship with Zed has to end now. I’ve been leading him on for too long, and every time I say goodbye to him I end up backtracking and make the situation worse by seeing him again. It’s not fair to him or to Hardin. Hardin and I have enough problems as it is. It bothers me as a woman that Hardin tries to forbid me from seeing Zed, but I can’t deny that I’m being a huge hypocrite if I continue hanging out with him. I would never want Hardin to be friends with Molly and spend time with her alone—the thought itself makes me nauseous. Zed has made his feelings for me very clear, and it’s not fair to anyone if I let the situation with him linger and tacitly encourage him. Zed is kind to me, and he’s been there for me a lot, but I hate the way that I always feel like I have to explain myself to him and defend my relationship.