First Trevor, now Zed. Did the extra mascara this morning bring along some weird juju with it or something?
“Are you sure?” Zed asks. “I saw him out yesterday . . . it was pretty late.”
What? Hardin and I got off the phone around eleven last night. Could he have gone out again after we got off the phone? Has he been spending time with his crew of so-called friends again?
“I don’t know,” I say and dramatically hit my head against my desk, too gently to do any damage but hard enough that I know Zed can hear through the line.
“It’s only dinner. Then I’ll let you get to whatever plans you have,” he coaxes. “It’ll be nice to see a familiar face, yeah?” I can picture his smile now, the one that I adore so much.
So I ask, “I rode in to work today with someone, so I don’t have my car. Could you pick me up at five?” And when he happily agrees, I’m both thrilled and terrified.
Chapter one hundred and thirteen
TESSA
Five minutes before five o’clock I try to call Hardin, but he doesn’t pick up. Where has he been all day? Was Zed right when he said that Hardin was out late? It’s possible that he’s on his way to Seattle and is planning to surprise me, but really, what are the odds of that? My meeting with Zed has been weighing on my chest since the moment I agreed to it. I know Hardin hates our friendship. He hates it so much that it haunts him in his dreams, and here I am, fueling that hatred.
I don’t bother to check my hair or touch up my makeup before taking the elevator down to the lobby, studiously ignoring Kimberly’s critical gaze. I probably shouldn’t have informed her of my plans. Through the plate-glass windows, Zed’s truck is visible, and is a beautiful sight for me, and I can’t ignore the excitement I feel to see a familiar face. I’d rather it be Hardin’s, but Zed’s here, and Hardin isn’t.
Zed climbs out of his truck to greet me as soon as I step out of the building. His smile grows as I walk across the sidewalk, and I see that his face is now covered by dark hair. Dressed in black jeans and a gray long-sleeve shirt, he looks as handsome as ever, and I look like death.
“Hey.” He smiles, opening his arms for a hug.
Uncertainty floods through me, but the need to be polite pushes me into his waiting arms.
“It’s been a while,” he says into my hair.
I nod in agreement and ask, “How was your drive?” as I pull back from the embrace.
He blows out a breath. “Long. But I got to listen to some pretty good music on the way.”
He opens the passenger door for me, and I hurry to get inside and out of the cold air. The cab of his truck is warm and smells like him.
“What made you decide to come today instead of tomorrow?” I ask, to begin the conversation as Zed hesitantly pulls into traffic.
“It was just . . . a change of mind, nothing, really.” His eyes dart back and forth between the rearview and the side mirrors.
“Driving in the city is intimidating,” I say to him.
“Yes. Very.” He smiles, still focused on the road.
“Do you know where you want to grab dinner? I haven’t done much exploring yet, so I don’t know where the best spots are.”
I check my phone; nothing from Hardin. So I pull up some restaurant options on an app, and after a couple minutes, Zed and I decide on a small Mongolian Style grill.
I GO WITH the chicken and vegetables and watch in awe as the chef prepares the food in front of us. I’ve never been to a place like this before, and Zed finds that amusing. We’re seated in the very back of the small restaurant, Zed sitting across from me, and we’re both too quiet for it to be comfortable.
“Is something wrong?” I ask him while picking at my food.
Zed’s eyes are soft and full of worry. “I don’t know if I should even bring it up . . . You seem like you’ve got so much going on already, and I want you to have a nice time.”
“I’m fine. Tell me whatever it is that you need to.” I brace myself for the unknown blow I’m sure is about to land.
“Hardin came to my place yesterday.”
“What?” I can’t hide the surprise in my voice. Why would Hardin do that? And if he did, how is it that Zed is sitting here without any bruises or missing limbs? “What did he want?” I ask.
“To tell me to stay away from you,” he promptly answers.
When I mentioned Zed’s text message to Hardin last night, he seemed so indifferent about the situation. “What time?” I ask, hoping it was after we talked about not keeping things from each other.
“Afternoon, around three.”
I let out an exasperated breath. Sometimes Hardin has no boundaries, and his list of offenses is growing by the second.
I rub my temples, my appetite having disappeared. “What did he say, exactly?”
“That he didn’t care how I did it, or if I hurt your feelings, just that I needed to stay away. He was being so calm, it was kinda freaky.” He stabs his fork at a piece of broccoli and pops it into his mouth.
“And you came here anyway?”
“Yes, I did.”
The testosterone-fueled battle between the two of them is wearing me out, and I’m on the sidelines, trying to keep the peace but failing. “Why?”
His golden eyes meet mine. “Because his threats aren’t going to work on me anymore. He can’t tell me who to be friends with, which is something I hope you feel the same way about.”
I’m beyond irritated that Hardin went to Zed’s apartment like that. I’m even more irritated that he didn’t say anything to me about it, and that he wanted Zed to hurt my feelings and end our friendship while keeping his role in the whole exchange hidden.