“What the hell are you doing?” His eyes move to the towel in my hand then to the spot on the floor.
“Someone . . . I forgot to lock the door when I went downstairs,” I say and look at him. His nostrils flare and he takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” I say.
The anger is radiating off him and I can’t even be angry with him because all of this is my fault. If I would have just listened to him and stayed in the room, none of this would have happened.
He runs his hands over his face in frustration and I take a step toward him. His fingers are busted and bloody, reminding me of his fight at the stadium. He surprises me by grabbing the towel from my hands and I reflexively jump back a little. His eyes flash with confusion and he tilts his head slightly as he uses the nonstained portion of the towel to wipe his knuckles off.
I expected him to barge through the door and break things while screaming at me; instead I am granted with his silence, which turns out to be much worse.
“Could you please say something?” I beg.
His words come even slower than usual. “Trust me, Tessa, you don’t want me to speak right now.”
“Yes, I do,” I tell him. I can’t stand his angry silence.
“No, you don’t,” he growls.
“Yes, I do! I need you to talk to me, tell me what the hell happened down there!” I wave my hands toward the window and he clenches his fists by his sides.
“Goddamn it, Tessa! You always have to push and push! I told you to stay in my fucking room—multiple times—and what the fuck did you do? You didn’t listen, as usual! Why is it so damn hard for you to listen to what I say?” he yells and slams his fist against the side of his dresser, cracking the wood.
“Because, Hardin, you don’t just get to tell me what to do all the time!” I yell back.
“That isn’t what I am doing. I was trying to keep you away from shit like what just happened. I already warned you that they aren’t a good group of people, yet you prance out there with Jace and then volunteer yourself to play that fucking game! What the fuck was that?” The deep veins in his neck are straining against his skin so tightly that I fear they may break through.
“I didn’t know what the game was!”
“You knew I didn’t want you to play, and the only reason you wanted to play was because Molly’s name was mentioned because of this crazy obsession you have with her!”
“Excuse me? Crazy obsession? Maybe I don’t like the fact that my boyfriend used to sleep with her!” My cheeks flame. My jealousy and dislike toward Molly are a little crazy but Hardin just choked a guy for almost kissing me.
“Well, sorry to break it to you, but if you’re going to have a problem with everyone that I slept with, you may want to transfer schools,” he exclaims and my mouth falls open. “You didn’t have a problem with the girls downstairs,” he adds and my heart goes frantic.
“What girls?” My breath catches. “Those three that were playing with us?”
“Yeah, and just about every other girl in this place.” His voice holds no emotion as he glares at me.
I try to come up with something to say but I am at a loss for words. The fact that Hardin has slept with all three of those girls and basically the entire female population at WCU makes me nauseous—and the worst part is how he just threw it in my face. I must look like such a fool hanging around Hardin when everyone else figures I’m just one of the many girls he’s slept with. I knew he would be pissed-off, but this is too far, even for Hardin. I feel like we have gone back in time to when I first met him and he would purposely make me cry on an almost daily basis.
“What? Surprised? You shouldn’t be,” he says.
“No.” And I’m not surprised, not one bit. I’m hurt. Not about his past, just the way he treated me out of anger. He said it that way just to hurt me. I blink rapidly to stop the tears from coming, but when it doesn’t work I turn away and wipe my eyes.
“Just go,” he says and walks toward the door.
“What?” I ask and turn to face him.
“Just go, Tessa.”
“Go where?”
He doesn’t even look at me. “Back to your room . . . I don’t know . . . but you can’t stay here.”
This is not at all what I thought would happen. The pain in my chest grows with every second of silence that passes between us. Part of me wants to beg him to let me stay, and to argue with him until he tells me why he reacted the way he did downstairs, but a bigger part of me is embarrassed and hurt by his cool dismissal. I grab my bag off the bed and sling it over my shoulder. When I reach the door, I look back at Hardin and hope that he will apologize or change his mind, but he turns to the window and completely ignores me. I have no idea how I will get back to the dorms, since Hardin drove me here and I had every intention of staying the night with him. I don’t remember the last time I stayed alone in my room, and the thought unnerves me. The drive to this house seems like days ago, instead of hours.
When I reach the bottom of the stairs, someone tugs at the back of my sweatshirt, and I hold my breath as I turn around, silently praying that it isn’t Jace or Dan.
It’s Hardin. “Come back upstairs,” he says, his voice desperate and his eyes red.
“Why? I thought you wanted me to leave.” I stare at the wall behind him.
He sighs and grabs the bag from my shoulder and walks back up the stairs. I think about just letting him have the bag and leaving anyway, but my stubborn attitude is what got me in this situation in the first place.