Chapter 12 (1/2)

IN CLASS, Hardin takes his seat next to me but doesn’t say a word, not even when, as promised, Landon leaves thirty minutes into class, which suddenly makes me even more aware of Hardin’s presence beside me.

“Monday we begin our weeklong discussion of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice,” Professor Hill announces as class ends. I don’t hide my excitement, and I’m fairly sure that I just let out a squeal. I have read that novel at least ten times and it’s one of my favorites.

Although he hadn’t really said anything to me all during class, Hardin walks up close beside me. I swear I could almost predict what he’s going to say with that deadpan look in his eyes.

“Let me guess, you are just madly in love with Mr. Darcy.”

“Every woman who has read the novel is,” I say without meeting his eyes. We reach the intersection and I look both ways before crossing the street.

“Of course you do,” he laughs, continuing to follow me along the busy sidewalk.

“I’m sure you aren’t able to comprehend Mr. Darcy’s appeal.” My mind goes to the massive collection of novels in Hardin’s room. They couldn’t possibly be his. Could they?

“A man who is rude and intolerable being made into a romantic hero? It’s ridiculous. If Elizabeth had any sense, she would have told him to fuck off from the beginning.”

I laugh at his choice of words but cover my mouth, stopping myself. I was actually enjoying our little banter, and his presence, but it would only be a matter of time—three minutes, if I’m so lucky—until he says something hurtful. Looking up, I meet his dimpled grin and can’t help but admire his good looks. Piercings and all.

“So you do agree that Elizabeth is an idiot?” He raises his eyebrow.

“No, she is one of the strongest, most complex characters ever written,” I say in her defense, using the words from one of my favorite movies.

He laughs again and I join him. But after a few seconds, catching himself having a decent laugh with me, he stops suddenly and his laughter fades. Something flashes in his eyes. “I’ll see you around, Theresa,” he says and turns on his heel and disappears back where we’d come from.

What is with him? Before I can begin to analyze his actions, my phone rings. Noah’s name flashes across my screen and I feel oddly guilty as I answer.

“Hey, Tess, I was going to text you back, but I figured I might as well call.” Noah’s voice is clipped, a bit distant.

“What are you doing? You sound busy.”

“No, just on my way to meet some friends at the grill,” he explains.

“Okay, well, I won’t keep you. I’m so glad it’s Friday. I am ready for the weekend!”

“Are you going to another party? Your mom is still disappointed.”