As soon as Hardin and Emma disappear I turn to Zed. “Hey, can we go? I don’t really want to hang out with Hardin; we sort of hate each other, in case you forgot.” I try to force out a playful laugh, but it doesn’t happen.
“Yeah, sure, sure,” he says. We both stand up and he reaches for my hand. We hold hands as we walk, and I find myself looking around for Hardin and hoping he won’t see.
“Do you want to go to the party?” Zed asks as we reach the parking lot.
“No, I don’t really want to go there, either.” That is the last place I want to go.
“Okay, well, we can just hang out another . . .” he begins.
“No, I still want to hang out. I just don’t want to be here or at that frat house,” I say quickly.
He looks surprised as his eyes meet mine. “Okay . . . well, we can go to my place? If you want; if not, we can go somewhere else? I actually don’t really know where else to go in this town.” He laughs and I join him.
“Your place is fine. I’ll follow you there,” I tell him.
During the drive, I can’t help but picture Hardin’s face when he returns to find us gone. He brought a girl there with him, so he has no right to be upset, but it doesn’t really ease the pang in my stomach to justify it like that.
Zed’s apartment is right off campus and is small but clean. He offers me a drink, but I decline since I plan on driving back to my room tonight.
I plop down on the couch, and he hands me the remote before going back to the kitchen to make himself a drink. “You can be in control; I don’t know what you like to watch.”
“Do you live alone?” I ask him and he nods. I feel a little awkward as he sits next to me and puts his arm around my waist, but I hide my nervousness with a smile. Zed’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he stands up to answer it. Holding a finger up to tell me he will be back, he wanders into his small kitchen area.
“We left,” I hear him say. “So . . .” “Fair.” “Too bad.” The few snippets of conversation that I catch make no sense to me . . . except the “we left.”
Is that Hardin on the phone? I stand up and walk toward the kitchen as Zed hangs up.
“Who was that?” I ask.
“No one important,” he assures me and leads me back to the couch. “I am really glad we are getting to know each other; you’re different from the rest of the girls here,” he says sweetly.
“Me, too,” I tell him. “Do you know Emma?” I can’t help but ask.
“Yeah, her girlfriend is Nate’s cousin.”
“Girlfriend?”
“Yeah, they have been together awhile. Emma’s pretty cool.”
So Hardin wasn’t there with her, not in that way at least. Maybe he actually came there to try to talk to me again, instead of trying to hurt me with another girl.
I look over to Zed just as he leans in to kiss me. His lips are cool from his drink and taste like vodka. His hands are careful and smooth against my arms, then my waist. Hardin’s heartbroken face from earlier pops into my mind, the way he begged for one more chance and I didn’t believe him, the way he watched me drive away, the outburst in class about Catherine and Heathcliff, the way he always shows up when I don’t want him to, the way he never tells his mother that he loves her, the way he said he loved me in front of everyone, the hurtful way he took it back, the way he breaks things when he’s angry, the way he came to his father’s house tonight even though he hates it there, and the way he asked his friends what to wear to the wedding—it all makes perfect sense, but no sense, at the same time.
Hardin loves me. In his own damaged way, he does love me. The realization of this hits me like a truck.
“What?” Zed says and pulls away from our kiss.
“What?” I repeat his word.
“You just said Hardin.”
“No, I didn’t,” I defend.
“Yes, yes, you did.” He stands up and steps away from the couch.