Chapter 64 (1/2)

“What the hell was that?!” Steph squeals.

“I don’t know, actually,” I admit. As soon as I think Hardin could not get more confusing, he does something like this.

“I cannot believe that just happened! I mean, Hardin . . . the way he came in here, like he was nervous or something! Oh my God! And he offered to drive you to his dad’s . . . Wait, why are you going to his dad’s house? And you thought you left something in his car? How do I miss so much! I need details!” She practically shouts and bounds onto the foot of my bed.

So I go through the whole thing, explaining to her how he showed up here last night and we watched a movie and he fell asleep, how we went to look at cars today—and how I didn’t mention him being there before because I figured that if I insisted she help me keep him away, it would feel odd to admit I’d hung out with him. I don’t say much about his dad except that I am going there for dinner, but she seems more interested in last night anyway.

“I can’t believe he stayed here—that is a huge deal. Like Hardin doesn’t just stay places, ever. And he never lets anyone stay with him. I heard he has nightmares or something, I don’t know. But seriously—what have you done to him? I wish I would have recorded the way he looked when he just came here!” she yells and laughs. “I still don’t think this is a good idea, but you do seem to handle him better than most. Just be careful,” she warns again.

What have I done to him? Nothing, surely. He just isn’t used to being nice, but for some reason he’s being nice to me. Maybe it’s a way to beat me at some game, or prove a point that he can fake manners? I am not sure and it hurts my head to try to figure it out.

I bring up Tristan, and Steph takes the conversation from there. I try to pay attention to her stories from last night’s party: how Molly ended up shirtless (go figure) and Logan beat Nate in a drunken arm-wrestling match (she swears it was one of those things that are much funnier when you’re there). My thoughts drift back to Hardin, of course, and I check the clock to make sure I have enough time to get ready for tonight. It is four o’clock now, so I should start getting ready at five.

Steph talks until five thirty and is ecstatic when I ask her to do my hair and makeup. I am not sure why I am putting such effort into looking okay for a family dinner that I really shouldn’t be going to, but I do anyway. She applies the makeup lightly so you can barely tell it’s there, but it looks great. Natural but pretty. Then she curls my hair the way she did before. I decide to wear my favorite maroon dress, despite Steph’s attempts to have me wear something from her closet. My maroon dress is nice and conservative, perfect for a family dinner.

“At least wear the lace tights underneath, or let me cut the sleeves off it,” she says with a groan.

“Fine, give me the lace tights, I guess. This isn’t that bad, though—it’s formfitting,” I rebut.

“I know, it’s just . . . boring.” She crinkles her nose. She looks more pleased when I put on the tights and agree to high heels. I still have a pair of Toms tucked in my purse from yesterday, just in case.

As six thirty approaches, I realize I am more nervous about the ride to dinner than the actual dinner. I fidget with the tights and practice walking around the room a few times before Hardin finally knocks on the door. Steph gives me a strange smile and I pull the door open.

“Wow, Tessa, you . . . um . . . look nice,” he mumbles and I smile. Since when does he say “um” in every sentence?

Steph escorts us out the door, winks, and exclaims like a proud parent, “You two have fun!”