then he wraps a Band-Aid around my finger gently. I stay quiet, as confused by Hardin’s actions as Landon looks.
“Can I talk to you, please?” he asks again, and thought I know I shouldn’t, since when do I do what I should when Hardin is involved?
I nod, and he wraps his fingers around my wrist and leads me outside.
chapter thirty
Back at the patio table, Hardin lets go of my wrist and pulls out the chair for me. Feeling like my skin is literally burning from his touch, I rub my fingers over it as he grabs the other chair and drags it across the concrete to sit directly in front of me. When he sits, he’s so close that his knees are almost touching mine.
“What could you possibly want to talk about, Hardin?” I ask him in the harshest tone I can muster.
He takes a deep breath and pulls his beanie off again and places it on the table. I watch as his long fingers run through his thick hair and he looks into my eyes.
“I am sorry,” he says with an intensity that makes me look away and focus on the large tree in the backyard. He leans in close. “Did you hear me?” he asks.
“Yeah, I heard you,” I snap and stare back at him. He is crazier than I thought if he thinks he can just say sorry and I will forget the horrible things he continues to do to me on an almost daily basis.
“You’re so damned difficult to deal with,” he says and sits back on his chair. The bottle I tossed into the yard is now in his hand, and he takes another drink from it. How is he not passed out yet?
“I am difficult? You have to be kidding me! What do you expect me to do, Hardin? You are cruel to me—so cruel,” I say and pull my bottom lip between my teeth. I will not cry in front of him again. Noah has never made me cry; we have been in a few fights over the years, but I have never been upset enough to cry.
His voice is low and almost feels like it’s part of the night air “I don’t mean to be.”
“Yes, you do, and you know it. You do it purposefully. I have never been treated this poorly by anyone in my entire life.” I bite my lip harder. I can feel the knot in my throat. If I cry, he wins. That’s what he wants.
“Then why do you keep coming around? Why not just give up?”
“If I . . . I don’t know. But I can assure you that after tonight I am not going to. I am going to drop Literature and just take it next semester.” I hadn’t planned on doing that until now, but it is exactly what I should do.
“Don’t, please don’t do that.”
“Why would you care? You don’t want to be forced to be around someone as pathetic as me, right?” My blood is boiling. If I knew what to say to hurt him as bad as he always hurts me, I would.
“I didn’t mean that . . . I’m the pathetic one.”
I look straight at him. “Well, I won’t argue with that.”
He takes another drink, and when I reach for the bottle, he pulls it away.
“So you’re the only one who can get drunk?” I ask, and a wry smile appears on his face. The patio light shines off his eyebrow ring as he hands me the bottle.
“I thought you were going to toss it again.”
I should, but instead I put the bottle to my lips. The liquor is warm and tastes like burnt licorice dipped in rubbing alcohol. I gag and Hardin chuckles.
“How often do you drink? You implied before it was never,” I say. I need to get back to being angry with him after he answers.
“Before tonight it has been about six months.” His eyes fall to the floor like he is ashamed.
“Well, you shouldn’t drink at all. It makes you an even worse person than usual.”
Still staring at the ground, his face is serious. “You think I am a bad person?”
What, is he that drunk that he would ever consider himself good?
“Yes.”
“I’m not. Well, maybe I am. I want you to . . .” he starts, but then stops, straightens up, and leans back on the chair.
“You want me to what?” I have to know what he was going to say. I hand him back the bottle,