âTess,â he breathes out, then quickly brings his mouth back to mine, his tongue sliding in once more. My mind is no longer in charge; the sensation has taken over every inch of me. Hardin pulls me by my hips closer to him as he lies back on the bed, never breaking our kiss. Unsure of what to do with my hands, I put them against his chest, and then climb onto his torso. His skin is hot and his chest is moving up and down with his rapid breaths. He pulls his mouth away from mine and I whimper at the loss of contact, but before I can complain heâs at my neck. I feel every swipe and lick his tongue makes. His breath moves across me. He grabs hold of my hair to keep my head just above his as he continues to kiss my neck. His teeth graze my collarbone and I moan, the feeling shooting down my whole body when he begins gently sucking on my skin. I would be embarrassed if I wasnât so intoxicated, by Hardin and the alcohol. I have never kissed anyone like this, not even Noah.
Noah!
I say, âHardin . . . stop,â but I donât recognize my voice. Itâs low and husky, and my mouth is dehydrated.
He doesnât stop.
âHardin!â I say again, my voice clear and sharp, and he lets go of my hair. When I look into his eyes, they are darker, yet softer, and his lips are a deeper pink and swollen from kissing me. âWe canât,â I say. Even though I really want to keep kissing him, I know I canât.
The softness in his eyes disappears and he pulls himself up, knocking me onto the other side of the bed. What just happened?
âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry,â I say, and they are the only words I can think of. My heart feels like it will explode any second.
âSorry for what?â he says and walks over to his dresser. He pulls out a black T-shirt and pulls it over his head. My eyes go down to his boxers again and they are noticeably tighter in the front.
I flush and look away. âFor kissing you . . .â I say, though something in me really doesnât want to apologize for that. âI donât know why I did it.â
âIt was just a kiss; people kiss all the time,â I hear him say.
His words hurt my feelings for some reason. Not that I care if he didnât feel what I did . . . What did I feel? I know I donât actually like him. I am just drunk and he is attractive. It has been a long night and the alcohol made me kiss him. Somewhere in the back of my mind I fight down the thoughts of how much I wanted it to happen again. He was just being so nice, thatâs why.
âCan we not make a big deal of it, then?â I ask. I would be humiliated if he told anyone. This isnât me. I donât get drunk, and I donât cheat on my boyfriend at parties.
âTrust me, I donât want anyone to know about this, either. Now, stop talking about it,â he snaps.
And thereâs his arrogance again. âSo now youâre back to your old self, I see?â
âI never was anyone elseâdonât think because you kissed me, basically against my will, we have some sort of bond now.â
Ouch. Against his will? I can still feel the way his hand gripped my hair, the way he pulled me on top of him, and the way his lips mouthed âTessâ before kissing me again.
I shoot up off the bed. âYou could have stopped me.â
âHardly,â he scoffs and I feel like crying again. He makes me too emotional. Itâs too humiliating, too painful how heâs basically saying I forced him to kiss me. I bury my head in my hands for a moment and head for the door.
âYou can stay in here tonight since you have nowhere else to go,â he says quietly, but I shake my head. I donât want to be anywhere near him. This is all part of his little game. He will offer to let me stay in his room so Iâll think he is a decent person, then he will probably draw some vulgar design on my forehead.
âNo, thanks,â I say and walk out. When I reach the stairs, I think I hear him call my name but I keep going. Outside, the cool breeze feels wonderful against my skin, I sit on the familiar stone wall and turn my phone back on. Itâs almost 4 a.m. I should be waking up in an hour to get an early shower and start studying. Instead Iâm sitting on this broken stone wall, alone and in the dark.
With a few stragglers milling about, and unsure what to do, I pull out my phone and scroll through the text messages from Noah and my mother. Of course he told her. Itâs what he would do . . .
But I canât even be upset with him. I just cheated on him. What would give me the right?
Chapter twenty
A block away from the frat house, the streets are dark and quiet. The other frat houses arenât as big as Hardinâs. After an hour and a half of walking and GPS-obsessing, I finally reach the campus. Fully sober and figuring that I might as well stay awake, I stop at the 7-Eleven and grab a cup.
As the caffeine hits me, I realize that there are so many things I donât understand about Hardin. Like: why is he in a fraternity with a bunch of preppy rich kids if he is punk, and why does he go from hot to cold so quickly? Itâs all academic musing, though, since I donât know why I even bother to waste my time thinking about him, and after tonight I am beyond done trying to be friendly with him. I canât believe I kissed him. That was the biggest possible mistake I could have made, and the second I let my guard down he attacked, worse than ever. Iâm not stupid enough to trust that he wonât tell anyone, but I hope his embarrassment over kissing âthe virginâ will keep him quiet. I will deny it until the grave if anyone asks.
I need to come up with a good explanation for my mother and Noah for my behavior tonight. Not the kissingâthey will never know about thatâbut that I was at a party. Again. But I also really need to have a talk with Noah about telling my mother things; if Iâm an adult now, she doesnât need to know what I am doing all the time.