Chapter 168 (1/2)

“Then he chose a party over going to see you,” he adds.

“Yeah . . .” I really don’t know what else to say.

“I think that really shows what type of person he is and that he isn’t going to change. You know?” Is he right?

“I know. I just really wish he’d talked to me about it or told me he just didn’t want to come over instead of leaving me sitting there for hours waiting on him.” My fingers play with the edges of the table, picking at the peeling wood.

“I don’t think you should talk to him about it; if he thought you were worth his time, he would have showed and not left you waiting.”

“I know you’re right, but this is the main problem in our relationship. We don’t talk about things, we both jump to conclusions that lead to yelling and one of us leaving,” I say. I know Zed is only trying to help, but I really want Hardin to explain to me, to my face, why hanging out with strippers was more important than me.

“I thought you didn’t have a relationship anymore?”

“We do . . . well, we don’t, but . . . I don’t even know how to explain it.” I’m mentally exhausted and Zed’s presence sometimes confuses me even more.

“It’s your choice, I just wish you wouldn’t waste any more time on him.” He sighs and gets up from the couch.

“I know,” I whisper and check my phone for a message from Hardin. There isn’t one.

“Are you hungry?” Zed asks me from the kitchen, and I hear his empty can hit the trash.

Chapter one hundred and eleven

HARDIN

This apartment is so goddamned empty.

I hate sitting here without her. I miss her legs resting on my lap as she studies and I steal unnoticed glances at her while pretending to work. I miss the way she would obnoxiously poke my arm with her pen until I snatched it from her and held it above her head, and then she’d act so annoyed, but I knew she was only bugging me to get me to pay attention to her. The way she would climb on my lap to retrieve the object always led to the same thing, every time, which was obviously a good thing for me.

“Fuck,” I say to myself and set my binder down. I haven’t gotten shit done today, or yesterday, or the past two weeks really.

I’m still pissed that she didn’t respond to me last night, but more than anything I just want to see her. I’m pretty sure she’ll be at my father’s house, so I should just go by there and talk to her. If I call her she may not answer and that will make me more anxious, so I’ll just stop by.

I know I’m supposed to be giving her space, but, really . . . fuck space. It’s not working for me and I hope it’s not working for her either.

By the time I get to my father’s house, it’s almost seven and Tessa’s car isn’t here.

What the fuck.

She’s probably at the store or library with Landon or some shit. I’m proven wrong when I see Landon sitting on the couch with a textbook on his lap. Great.

“Where is she?” I ask him as soon as I enter the living room.