“What? Why the hell would you assume that? You should know me better than that by now! And who do you think you are to even ask such a personal question? You made it clear that you don’t care about me so, what if I did?” I shout.
“So you didn’t?” he asks again, his eyes like stone.
“God, Hardin! No! He kissed me, but I wouldn’t have sex with someone I barely know!”
He leans over and turns my car off, clenching his bloody hand over the keys and pulling them out of the ignition.
“You kissed him back?” His eyes are hooded as he seems to look straight past me.
“Yeah . . . well, I don’t know, I think I did.” I don’t remember anything except Hardin’s face in my mind.
“How do you not know? Have you been drinking?” His voice is louder now.
“No, I just . . .”
“You what!” he shouts and turns his body to face me. I can’t read the energy between us, and for a moment I sit there, trying to get a handle on it.
“I-I just kept thinking of you!” I finally admit.
His stone features soften tremendously and he brings his eyes to mine. “Let’s go inside,” he says and opens the passenger door.
chapter sixty-seven
Karen and Ken are sitting on the couch in the living room and both look up when we walk in.
“Hardin! What happened?” his father asks, panicked. He jumps up and comes over to us, but Hardin brushes him off.
“I’m fine,” Hardin grumbles.
“What happened to him?” Ken turns to me.
“He got in a fight, but he hasn’t told me with who or why.”
“I am standing right here—and I just said I am fucking fine,” Hardin says angrily.
“Don’t talk to your father like that!” I scold him and his eyes widen. Instead of screaming at me, he takes my wrist in his busted hand and pulls me out of the room. Ken and Karen discuss Hardin’s bloody appearance as he drags me upstairs, and I hear his dad openly wonder why Hardin keeps coming here when he never used to before.
Once we reach his room, he turns me around, pinning both of my wrists to the wall and steps up close, leaving only a few inches between us.
“Don’t ever do that again,” he says through his teeth.
“Do what? Let go of me, right now,” I tell him.
He rolls his eyes but does let me go and walks over to his bed. I stay close to the door.
“Don’t tell me how to talk to my father. Worry about your own relationship with your own father before trying to meddle with mine.”
As soon as the words come out of his mouth, Hardin registers what he says, and he immediately looks apologetic. “I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean it like that . . . It just came out.” He takes a step toward me with outstretched arms, but I take a step backward into the doorway.
“Yeah—it always just ‘comes out,’ doesn’t it?” I can’t help the tears pricking my eyes. Bringing my father into this is just way too much, even for Hardin.
“Tess, I . . .” he begins but stops himself when I hold up one hand.
What am I doing here? Why do I keep thinking he will stop the endless string of insults long enough to have an actual conversation with me? Because I am an idiot, that’s why.
“It’s fine, really. That’s who you are; that’s what you do. You find people’s weakness and you exploit it. You use it to your advantage. How long have you been waiting to say something about my father? You’ve probably been waiting for an opening since you met me!” I shout.
“Damn it! No I haven’t! I wasn’t thinking when I said that! You are not innocent here—you provoke me on purpose!” he yells, even louder than I did.
“Provoke you? I provoke you! Please, do enlighten me!” I know everyone in the house can hear. But, for once, I don’t care.
“You always push my buttons! You constantly fight with me! You go on dates with Zed—I mean, fuck! You think I like being this way? Do you think I like you having this control over me? I hate the way you get under my skin. I loathe the way I can’t seem to stop thinking about you! I hate you . . . I really do! You’re such a pretentious little . . .” He stops and looks at me. I force