“I’m sorry,” he blurts, his cheeks a deep shade of red. “Just let me fuck you . . . please,” he begs and I laugh. My laughter is cut short by him reaching over to the nightstand and pulling out a small packet. He wastes no time putting the condom on and kissing me again.
“I don’t know if you are ready to do it this way, with you above me. If it’s too intense, tell me. Okay, baby?” And like that he’s back to the sweet and gentle Hardin.
“Okay,” I answer.
He lifts me up slightly and I feel the condom brush against me and then fullness as he lowers me onto him.
“Oh my,” I say and close my eyes.
“Is it okay?”
“Yeah . . . just . . . d-different,” I stammer.
It hurts, not nearly as much as before, but the feeling is still unpleasant and foreign. I keep my eyes closed and move my hips a little, trying to decrease the pressure.
“Good, different, or bad?” His voice is strained and the vein in his forehead is showing.
“Shh . . . stop talking,” I say and move again.
He moans and apologizes, promising to give me a minute to adjust. I have no idea how much time passes before I move my hips again. The discomfort eases dramatically the more I move, and at some point Hardin wraps his arms around my back, hugging me close to him as he moves to meet my hips. This way is much better, him holding me as we move together. One of my hands rests on his chest, holding my weight as my legs start to tire. I ignore the burn of my muscles and continue to ride his body this way. I keep my eyes open to watch Hardin as a bead of sweat rolls down his forehead. Watching him like this, with his lower lip pulled between his teeth, his eyes so focused on my face that I swear I can feel the burn from them on my skin, is overwhelming in the best way.
“You are everything to me. I can’t lose you,” he says as my lips move over his neck and shoulder. His skin is salty and damp and perfect. “I’m close, baby, so fucking close. You’re doing so good, baby.” He groans and moves his hands up and down my back as I try to pick up speed. He laces his fingers through mine and the intimacy of the gesture makes me weak. I love his encouragement and I love him.
I feel my stomach tightening as Hardin grips the back of my neck with one hand. He continues to whisper how much I mean to him as his body grows tense. I stare, completely consumed by his words and the way his thumb is brushing over my clit, bringing me to a quick and powerful release. Our moans intertwine along with our bodies as we finish. He practically falls back, lying on the bed, and takes me with him. I barely notice him discarding the condom as I come back to reality.
“I’m glad you followed me down the stairs,” I finally say after a long but pleasant silence. With my head lying on his bare chest, I can hear his rapid heartbeat slowing.
“Me, too. I wasn’t going to, but I had to. I am sorry for telling you to leave. I can be an asshole sometimes,” he says.
I lift my head up and look at him. “Sometimes?” I smile.
He lifts one of his hands off my back and pokes me on the nose with his index finger, making me giggle. “You weren’t complaining five minutes ago,” he points out.
I shake my head and lay it back down onto his clammy skin. My fingers trace the simple heart-shaped tattoo near his shoulder and I notice the goose bumps raise on his skin. It isn’t lost on me that the heart is colored in with solid black ink.
“That’s because you’re better at that stuff than you are at dating,” I tease.
“I won’t argue there.” He chuckles and moves my hair from my face. One of my favorite things that he does is when he caresses my cheek. His fingertips are rough, but they somehow feel like silk against my skin.
“What happened between you and Dan? I mean before tonight?” I ask. I probably shouldn’t, but I have to know.
“What? Who told you there was a problem between Dan and me?” He lifts my chin to look at him.
“Jace. He didn’t say what it was, though; he just said it was ‘coming for a while.’ What did he mean by that?”
“Just some bullshit thing that happened last year. It’s nothing for you to worry about. I promise,” he says, and smiles a smile that doesn’t extend to his eyes but I don’t feel like pushing it.
I’m just happy that we worked through our problem for once and that we are getting better at communicating with one another.
“You’re going to meet me after you leave Vance tomorrow, right? I don’t want anyone to take that apartment before us,” he says.
“We don’t have any furniture,” I remind him.
“It comes furnished. But we can add things or change whatever we want after we move in.”
“How much is it?” I ask. I know I don’t want to hear the answer to that. I can only imagine how expensive it is if it comes already furnished.
“Don’t worry about that; all you need to worry about is how much the cable will be.” He smiles and kisses my forehead. “So what do you say? You’re still in, right?”
“And groceries,” I point out and he frowns. “But yes, I am still in.”
“Are you going to tell your mother?”
“I don’t know. I will eventually, but I already know what she’s going to say. Maybe I should let her get used to the fact that we’re together first. We are so young and already moving in together, I don’t want to send her into a mental ward.” I let out a laugh despite the slight pain in my chest. I wish things could be simple with my mother and she could be happy for me, but I know that isn’t plausible.
“I am sorry that this is happening between the two of you. I know it’s my fault, but I’m far too selfish to remove myself from the situation.”
“It’s not your fault. She is just . . . well, she is the way she is,” I say and kiss his chest.
“You need to get to sleep, baby; you have to be up in the morning and it’s almost midnight,” he says.
“Midnight? I thought it was much later,” I say and roll off him and lie in front of him.
“Well, if you weren’t so tight, I would have lasted longer,” he says into my ear.
“Good night!” I groan in embarrassment.
He laughs and kisses the back of my neck before turning the light off.
Chapter eighty-six
The next morning, bright and early, I scramble around Hardin’s room, gathering my things to take a shower.
“I’m coming with you,” he groans, but I laugh.
“No, you’re not. You know it’s only six a.m., right? What happened to your seven-thirty rule?” I tease and grab my bag.
“I am going to walk you there.” I love his raspy morning voice.
“Walk me where? To the bathroom?” I scoff as he rolls out of bed. “I’m a big girl. I can walk myself down the hall.”
“You’re doing an amazing job at listening to me so far.” He rolls his eyes, but I see the amusement in them.
“Fine, Daddy, walk me to the bathroom,” I whine playfully. I have no intention of listening to him, but I decide to humor him for the moment.
Hardin raises his eyebrow and smirks. “Don’t call me that again, or I’ll have to take you back to bed.” He winks and I hurry out of the room before I am too tempted to stay.
He follows behind me and sits on the toilet while I shower. “You’re going to have to take my car,” he says, which utterly surprises me. “I’ll get a ride to campus to grab yours so I can go over to the apartment.”
I didn’t think about any of this last night, which further shocks me, since I usually plan everything out so well. “You’re going to let me drive your car?” I gape.
“Yeah. However, if you wreck it don’t bother coming back,” he says.
Part of me knows he is somewhat serious. But I laugh and say, “I should be worried about you wrecking mine!”
He tries to open the curtain, but I pull it closed again and hear him chuckle. “Just think, babe, after today you will be in your own shower every morning.” His voice carries over the water as I rinse the shampoo from my hair.
“I don’t think it will really hit me until we are actually there.”
“Wait until you see it; you will love it,” he says.
“Does anyone know that you are getting an apartment?” I ask. I already know the answer.
“No, why would they need to know?”
“They don’t, I was just wondering.”
The faucet creaks as I shut the water off. Hardin holds a towel open for me as I step out and wraps it around my soaked body.
“I know you well enough to know that you think I am hiding the fact that we are moving in together from my friends,” he says.
He’s not wrong. “Well, it does seem a little odd that you’re moving out of here but no one knows.”
“That isn’t because of you—it’s because I don’t want to hear their shit about dropping out of the fraternity. I will tell them all—even Molly—after we move in.” He smiles and wraps his arms around my shoulders.
“I want to be the one to tell Molly.” I laugh and hug him back.
“Deal.”
After multiple attempts to keep Hardin’s hands off me as I get ready, he hands me the keys to his car and I leave. The moment I get in the car my phone vibrates.
Be careful. I love you, the text reads.
I will. You be careful in my car 🙂 I love you. xo
I can’t wait to see you again. Meet me at five. Your crap car will be fine.
You should watch what you say or I may accidently hit a parking median in yours. I smile to myself as I send my reply.
Stop pestering me and go to work before I come down there and peel that dress off you.
As appealing as that sounds, I put my phone back onto the passenger seat and start the car. The engine gently purrs to life, unlike the loud roar of mine. For a classic car it drives much smoother than mine; he really takes care of it. When I turn onto the freeway my phone rings.
“Jesus, you can’t go twenty minutes without me?” I laugh into the phone.
“Tessa?” a male voice says. Noah.
I pull my phone away from my ear and look at my screen to confirm my horror.
“Um . . . sorry, I thought . . .” I stammer.
“You thought it was him . . . I know,” he says. His voice is sad and not at all hateful.
“I’m sorry.” I don’t deny it.
“S’okay,” he says.
“So . . .” I am not sure what to say.
“I saw your mom yesterday.”
“Oh.” The pain from Noah’s sorrow-filled voice and the reminder of my mother’s hatred for me causes my chest to ache.
“Yeah . . . she is pretty pissed at you.”
“I know . . . she threatened to stop helping me with college.”
“She will get over this, I know she will. She’s just hurt,” he says.
“She is hurt? You’re kidding me, right?” I scoff. He cannot be defending her.
“No, no—I know she is going about it the wrong way, but she’s just angry that you are . . . you know with . . . him.” The disgust in his voice is evident.
“Well, it isn’t her place to tell me who to be with. Is that why you called me? To tell me that I shouldn’t be with him?”
“No, no—Tessa, it’s not. I just wanted to make sure you are okay. This is the longest we have gone without talking since we were ten years old,” he says. I can picture the frown on his face.
“Oh . . . I’m sorry for snapping at you. I just have a lot going on right now and I thought you were calling to—”
“Just because we aren’t together anymore doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be there for you,” he says, and my heart aches. I do miss him; not my relationship with him, but he’s been such a huge part of my life since I was a child, it’s hard to let that go entirely. He was there for me through everything, and I hurt him, without even calling to explain or apologize. I feel terrible about how I left things with him, and tears well up in my eyes.
“I’m sorry for everything, Noah,” I say softly and sigh.
“It’ll be okay,” he says back, equally softly. But then, as if needing to change the topic, he says, “So I heard you got an internship,” and our conversation continues until I arrive at Vance.
When we get off the phone he promises to talk to my mother about her behavior toward me, and I feel like a huge weight has been lifted from me. Of anyone, Noah could always manage to get her to calm down when she was at her worst.
The rest of my day goes smoothly. I spend the entire day finishing my first manuscript and making notes for Mr. Vance. Hardin and I text on and off to nail down the details on where to meet, and before I know it the day is over.
When I arrive at the address Hardin sent me, I’m surprised to find that it’s about halfway between campus and Vance Publishing. My drive would only be twenty minutes if I lived here, when I live here. It still seems like such an abstract idea, Hardin and I living together.
I don’t see my car when I pull into the parking lot, and when I try to call Hardin’s phone I get his voicemail. What if he changed his mind? He would tell me, wouldn’t he?
Just as I start to panic, Hardin pulls my car into the lot and parks next to me. At least, it looks like my car, but it also looks different. The silver paint is no longer chipped, and overall it looks shiny and new.
“What did you do to my car?” I say when he climbs out.
“It’s nice to see you, too.” He smiles and kisses my cheek.
“Seriously, what did you do?” I cross my arms.
“I got a paint job. Jesus. You could thank me.” He rolls his eyes.
I bite my tongue only because of where we are and what we are about to do. Besides, the paint job does look really good. I just don’t like the idea of Hardin spending money on me, and paint jobs are not cheap.
“Thank you.” I smile and lace my fingers through his.
“You’re welcome. Now let’s go inside.” He leads me through the parking lot. “You look good driving my car, especially in that dress. I couldn’t stop thinking about it all day. I wish you would have obliged my request that you send me naked pictures of yourself,” he says, and I elbow him. “Just saying. Would have made class much more interesting.”
“Oh, so you went to class,” I say, laughing.
He shrugs and opens the front door of the building for me. “Here we are.”
I smile at his uncharacteristic gesture and walk inside. The lobby of the building isn’t what I expected at all. It is all white: white floors, clean white walls, white chairs, white couches, white rugs, white lamps on clear tables. It looks elegant, but very intimidating. A short, balding man in a suit greets us and shakes Hardin’s hand. He seems nervous around us, or maybe just around Hardin.
“You must be Theresa.” He smiles. His teeth are as white as the bright walls.
“Tessa,” I smile and correct him while Hardin bites back a smile of his own.
“It’s nice to meet you. Shall we get to signing?”
“No, she wants to see it first. Why would we sign if she hasn’t even seen it?” Hardin says in a flat tone.
The poor man gulps and nods. “Of course, let’s go up.” He gestures down the hallway.
“Be nice,” I whisper to Hardin as the three of us walk to the elevator.
“Nope.” He smirks at me and squeezes my behind gently.
I glare at him, but his dimpled smile only grows. The man tells me about how great the view is and that this is one of the best and most diverse apartment buildings in the area. I nod along politely, and Hardin stays quiet as we step off the elevator. I am taken aback by the contrast between the lobby and the hallway. It feels like we have stepped into a completely different building . . . even a different time period.
“Here it is,” the man says and opens the first door we come to. “There are only five apartments on this floor, so you will have a lot of privacy.” He gestures for us to enter, but looks away from Hardin’s gaze. He is definitely afraid of Hardin. I can’t say I blame him, but it is a little entertaining to watch.
I hear my own gasp as I take in the sight before me. The main room’s floors are old, stained concrete, except for one large square of hardwood in the space that I assume would be the living room. The walls are brick and beautiful. Damaged but perfect. The windows are large, and the furniture is old-fashioned but clean. If I could design the perfect space, this would be it. It’s somehow a throwback to another era, but completely modern.
Hardin watches me intently as I look around, going into the other rooms and letting Hardin and the man trail behind. The kitchen is small and has multicolored tiles above the sink and countertop, adding an indie, fun look. I absolutely love everything about this small apartment. The lobby downstairs had scared me, so I was expecting to hate the place. I thought it would be an overpriced, stuffy apartment, and I’m thrilled that it isn’t. The bathroom is small but big enough for us, and the bedroom is just as perfect as the rest of the place. Three walls are old red brick and the fourth is covered with a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. It has a ladder attached, and I can’t help but laugh because I always pictured myself having this exact apartment after I graduated from college. I just didn’t think it would come so soon.
“We could fill the shelves. I have a lot of books,” Hardin mumbles nervously.
“I . . . just . . .” I begin.
“You don’t like it, do you. I thought you would; it seemed perfect for you. Damn it!” He frowns and runs his fingers over his hair.
“No . . . I—”
“Let’s go, then, show us another one,” Hardin snaps at the man.
“Hardin! If you would let me finish, I was going to say that I love it,” I tell him.
The man looks just as relieved as Hardin, whose frown turns into a massive smile. “Really?”
“Yes, I was afraid it was going to be some fancy, cold apartment, but this is just perfect,” I tell him and mean it.