Chapter 127 (1/2)

She bent down to help and smiled at him, and Hardin couldn’t help remembering how soft her lips were when she forced herself on him the other night. He was surprised as fuck—he didn’t take her as the type to make the first move and was fairly positive that she had only kissed her lame-ass boyfriend before. Her gasping and the way her hands were so eager to touch him made that pretty clear.

“So what’s going on with the bet?” Logan nodded toward Tessa as she smiled widely, spotting Landon in all his nerd glory, backpack and all.

“Nothing new,” Hardin instantly replied, covering the paper with one arm. How was he supposed to know what was going on with the mouthy, poorly dressed girl? She had barely spoken to him since her crazy-ass mom and lame-ass boyfriend had showed up pounding on her door Saturday morning.

Why was her name written on this paper? And why was Hardin feeling like he was going to break out in a full-on sweat if Logan didn’t stop staring like he knew something?

“She’s annoying, but she seems to like me more than Zed, at least.”

“She’s hot,” the two guys said at the same time.

“If I was a dickhead, I would go against the two of you. I’m better looking anyway,” Nate teased, sharing a laugh with Logan.

“I want nothing to do with this shit. This is all fucking stupid, really—you shouldn’t have fucked his girlfriend,” Logan scolded Hardin, who only laughed.

“It was worth it,” he said, looking back to the sidewalk across the courtyard. She had disappeared, and he changed the subject, asking about that weekend’s party coming up.

As the two of them bickered over how many kegs to buy, Hardin found myself writing down how afraid she’d looked on Friday when she nearly pounded his door in to get away from that creepy Neil, who tried to make a move on her. He’s a bastard, and would surely remain pissed at Hardin for the bottle of bleach he poured on his bed Sunday night. It wasn’t like Hardin gave a shit about her; it was the principle of the situation.

After that, the words just kept writing themselves. I had no control over it, and with every interaction I had with her, I had more to say about her. About the way she crinkled her nose in disgust when she explained to me that she hated ketchup. I mean, who hates ketchup?

With every small detail I learned about her, my feelings grew. I would deny them until later, but they were there.

When we lived together, it grew harder to write. I found myself writing much less often, but when I did, I would hide my latest writing in the closet in a shoe box. I had no idea that Tessa had found the damn thing until now, and here I am, wondering when I will stop complicating my damn life.