After We Collided (After, #2) by Anna Todd Read Online (FREE)
Hardin must have really hated me to go to this extreme to ruin my life and then to move me into an apartment far from anyone I know. He must be pretty proud of himself right now for causing me this much pain.
As I fumble with my keys before unlocking the door to our place a tidal wave of panic crashes over me, nearly knocking me the ground.
When will it stop? Or at least decrease?
I go straight to the bedroom and grab my bags from the closet, roughly shoving all my clothes in them without care. My eyes flicker to the bedside table, where a small frame stands, displaying the picture of Hardin and me smiling together before Ken’s wedding.
Too bad it was all fake. Leaning across the bed, I grab it and throw it against the concrete floor. It shatters into pieces and I jump over the bed, grab the photo, and rip it into as many pieces as I can, not realizing that I’m sobbing until I choke on my own breath.
I grab my books, piling them into an empty box, and, instinctively, Hardin’s copy of Wuthering Heights; he won’t miss it, and, honestly, I’m owed it, after what he’s taken from me.
My throat is sore, so I go into the kitchen and grab a glass of water. I sit down at the table and allow myself a few minutes to pretend that none of this has happened. To pretend that instead of my having to face the future days alone, Hardin will be home from class shortly, and will smile at me and tell me he loves me, that he missed me all day. That he will lift me onto the counter and kiss me with longing and love—
The clicking of the door startles me out of my pathetic daydream. I jump to my feet as Hardin walks through the door. He doesn’t see me, since he’s looking over his shoulder.
At a brunette in a black sweater dress.
“So this is it . . .” he begins, and then stops when he notices my bags on the ground.
I’m frozen as his eyes travel around the apartment and then over to the kitchen, where they widen in shock at seeing me.
“Tess?” he says, as if he’s not sure that I actually exist.
I look like hell. I’m in baggy jeans and a sweatshirt, yesterday’s smeared makeup, and tangled hair. I look at the girl standing behind him. Her curly brown hair is silky and cascades in loose waves down her back. Her makeup is light, and perfect, but then, she’s one of those women who doesn’t need it to begin with. Of course she is.
This is humiliating and I wish I could sink into the floor, disappearing out of the beautiful girl’s sight.
When I reach down to pick one of my bags up off the floor, Hardin seems to remember the girl is there and turns around to face her.