“It’s working now, I think. If not, you can just use mine,” he says.
Use his? Hardin is voluntarily offering to allow me to use his phone? This is new.
“Thanks,” I mutter and scroll through the song list on my phone before choosing. Soon music floods through my ears and enters my thoughts, drowning out my inner turmoil.
Hardin leans his head against the window and closes his eyes, the dark rings beneath them emphasizing his lack of sleep.
A wave of guilt hits me, but I push it back. Within minutes, the calming music coaxes me to sleep.
“TESSA.” Hardin’s voice wakes me. “Are you hungry?”
“No,” I groan, not wanting to open my eyes.
“You’re hungover; you should eat,” he says.
Suddenly I realize that I’m feeling the need for something to absorb all that stomach acid. “Fine,” I say, giving in. I don’t have the energy to put up a fight today, anyway.
Minutes later a sandwich and fries are placed on my lap, and I open my eyes. I pick at the food and lay my head back on the seat after finishing half of it. But my phone has frozen yet again.
Seeing me start to futz with it, Hardin pulls my earbuds out of my phone and plugs them into his. “Here.”
“Thanks.”
He’s already opened the music app for me. A long list appears on the screen, and I scroll through to find anything familiar. I almost give up, but then my eyes move to a folder named T. I look over at Hardin, whose eyes, surprisingly, are closed and not watching me. When I tap the folder, all of my favorite music appears, even songs that I’ve never mentioned to him. He must have seen them on my phone.
Things like these make me question myself. The small, thoughtful gestures that he tries to conceal from me are my favorite things in the entire world. I wish he’d stop hiding them.
WITH A GENTLE NUDGE, it’s Karen who wakes me this time. “Wake up, dear.”
I look over and see Hardin is asleep; his hand is on the seat between us, his fingers barely touching my leg. Even in his sleep, he gravitates to me.
“Hardin, wake up,” I whisper, and his eyes fly open, wide and immediately alert. He rubs them, then scratches his head and stares at me, gauging my expression.
“Are you okay?” he asks quietly, and I nod. I’m trying to avoid any confrontation with him today, but I’m growing nervous at his calm demeanor. It’s usually a precursor to a blowup.
We file out of the car, and Hardin walks to the back to retrieve our bags.
Karen wraps her arms around me and hugs me tight. “Tessa, dear, thank you again for coming. It was a lovely time. Please come visit soon, but in the meanwhile, take Seattle by storm.” When she pulls away, her eyes are full of tears.
“I’ll visit soon, I promise.” I hug her again. She has always been so kind and supportive of me, almost like the mother I never had.
“Good luck, Tessa, and let me know if you need anything. I have a lot of connections in Seattle.” Ken smiles and awkwardly wraps an arm around my shoulder.
“I’ll see you again before I leave for New York, so no hugs for you yet,” Landon says, and we both laugh.
“I’ll be in the car,” Hardin mumbles and walks off, not even saying goodbye to his family.
Watching him go, Ken says to me, “He’ll come around, if he knows what’s good for him.”
I look at Hardin, who is now sitting in the car. “I sure hope so.”
“Going back to England isn’t good for him. He has too many memories, too many enemies, too many mistakes there. You’re what’s good for him, you and Seattle,” Ken assures me, and I nod. If only Hardin saw it that way.
“Thank you again.” I smile at them before joining Hardin in the car.
He doesn’t say a word when I get in; he only turns on the radio and raises the volume up high so I know he doesn’t want to talk. I wish I knew what went on inside his mind at times like this, when he’s so unreadable.
My fingers fiddle with the bracelet he gave me for Christmas, and I stare out the window as the drive continues. By the time we park at the apartment, the tension I feel between us has grown to an unbearable level. It’s driving me insane, yet he doesn’t seem to be affected at all.
I move to get out, and Hardin’s large hand reaches over to stop me. He brings his other hand to my chin and tips my head up so I have to look at him. “I’m sorry. Please don’t be upset with me,” he says quietly, his mouth inches from mine.
“Okay,” I breathe, inhaling his minty scent.
“You’re not okay, though, I can tell. You’re holding back, and I hate it.”
He’s right; he always knows exactly what I’m thinking, but yet he’s so clueless at the same time. It’s a confusing contradiction. “I don’t want to fight with you anymore.”
“So don’t,” he states, as if it’s that simple.
“I’m trying not to, but so much happened during that trip. I’m still trying to process it all,” I admit. It started with me finding out that Hardin sabotaged my apartment and ended with him calling me a selfish bitch.
“I know I ruined the trip.”
“It wasn’t only you. I shouldn’t have spent time with—”
“Don’t finish,” he interrupts and drops his hand from my chin. “I don’t want to hear about it.”
“Okay.” I glance away from his intense stare, and he puts his hand over mine, squeezing gently.
“Sometimes I . . . well, sometimes I get . . . fuck.” He sighs and starts again. “Sometimes when I think about us, I start to get paranoid, you know? Like I don’t know why you’re with me sometimes, so I act out and my mind starts making me believe that it won’t work or that I’m losing you, and that’s when I say stupid shit. If you could just forget about Seattle, we could be happy finally—no more distractions.”