knees and putting his feet in the air. Hardin lays his head on his folded hands, which takes away all his rough edges and leaves him looking adorable. The movie is much better than I expected, and I must’ve been more into it than Hardin, because when the credits roll and I look over at him, he’s fast asleep.
He looks so perfect, so peaceful in his sleep. I love the way his eyelids flutter and the way his chest moves up and down and the lovely sigh that leaves his full lips. I want to reach over and touch his face, but I don’t. Despite the fact that I should wake him and make him leave, I cover him with my blanket and go lock the door before lying down on Steph’s bed. I glance over at him again and admire the way the dim light from the television illuminates his face. He looks younger and much happier in his sleep.
As I drift to sleep, I realize that I’ve spent the night with Hardin a couple of times now, and never with Noah. My subconscious helpfully reminds me that I’ve done a lot of things with Hardin that I’ve never done with Noah.
chapter forty-two
The faint sound of buzzing floats through my dream in a steady pattern. Why won’t it stop? I roll over, not wanting to wake up, but the obnoxious sound insists that I do. I’m disoriented, and forget where I am. And then when I realize I’m in Steph’s bed, I still almost forget Hardin is in my room.
How do we always end up together? And more important, where is that annoying noise coming from? In the dim light provided by streetlights just outside the window, I follow the noise and it leads to Hardin’s pocket. I feel as if the noise is calling to me in my dreamy state. I debate whether or not to reach into his pocket, my eyes focused on the imprint of the phone in the front pocket of his tight jeans. It stops as I reach my bed so I steal another opportunity to take in how peaceful Hardin looks in his sleep. There is no soft crinkle in his forehead from his constant frowning, and there is no purse to his pink lips. I sigh and turn around only to have the buzzing start again. I’m just going to grab it, he won’t wake up. I dip my hand down and struggle to reach into Hardin’s pocket. If his pants weren’t so tight, I would be able to pull the phone from his pocket . . . but I have no such luck.
“What are you doing?” he groans.
I jolt a few feet away from my bed. “Your phone is going off and it woke me up,” I whisper, despite the fact that we are the only people in the room.
I watch silently as he digs into his pocket, his large hand struggling to pull out his phone. “What?” He snaps into the mouthpiece when he does get it out, only to swipe his hand over his forehead at whatever response he received.
“I am not coming back there tonight. I am at a friend’s house.”
Are we friends? Of course not, I’m just a convenient excuse for why he isn’t returning to the party. I stand awkwardly and shift my weight from one leg to the other.
“No, you can’t go into my room. You know this. I’m going back to sleep now, so don’t wake me up again. And my door is locked, so don’t waste your time trying.” He hangs up, and I instinctively back away. His bad mood is palpable, and I don’t want to be on the receiving end of his venom. I crawl onto Steph’s bed and pull the blanket to me.
“Sorry that my phone woke you,” he says quietly. “It was Molly.”
“Oh.” I sigh and lie down on my side, facing my bed across the room. Hardin gives me a small smile, as if he knows what I’m thinking about Molly. I can’t ignore the small bubble of excitement that comes from him being here instead of with Molly, even though his actions make no sense to me.
“You don’t like her, do you?” He rolls fully onto his side, his hair messy and everywhere on my pillow.
I shake my head. “Not really, but please don’t tell her. I don’t want any drama,” I beg. I know I can’t trust him, but hopefully he will forget to stir up