After We Collided (After, #2) by Anna Todd Read Online (FREE)
Why did I just do that? Why did I break down and call him? I’m such an idiot—he’s probably going to listen to it and laugh. He’ll probably let whatever girl he’s hooking up with listen to the message, and they’ll laugh and laugh at my expense. I pull into a deserted parking lot to gather my thoughts before getting into another accident.
I stare at the phone and breathe in and out in order to stop crying. Twenty minutes go by and he still hasn’t returned my call, or even texted me.
Why am I sitting in a parking lot at ten at night crying and calling him? I’ve fought myself for the last nine days to get myself to be strong, yet here I am falling apart, again. I can’t let this happen. I pull out of the parking lot and drive back to Zed’s apartment. Hardin is obviously too busy to be bothered with me, and Zed is here, honest and always here for me. I park next to his truck and take a deep breath. I have to think of myself first and what I want.
As I race up the stairs to Zed’s door, I’m at peace with myself.
I bang on the door, shifting back and forth waiting for it to open. What if I’m too late and he doesn’t answer the door? I’ll get what I deserve, I suppose. I should’ve known better than to kiss him in the middle of all of this.
When the door opens I nearly stop breathing. Zed is wearing only black gym shorts, his inked chest exposed.
“Tessa?” He gapes, clearly surprised.
“I . . . I don’t know what I can give you, but I want to try,” I tell him.
He runs his hand over his black hair and takes a deep breath. He’s going to reject me, I know it.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come . . .” I can’t handle any more rejection.
I turn toward the stairs and take two at a time before a hand hooks my arm and Zed turns me around to face him.
He doesn’t say anything at all; he just takes my hand in his and leads me back up the stairs and inside his apartment.
Zed is calm, so quiet and understanding as we sit on his couch, him on one side and me on the other. He’s completely different from what I’m used to with Hardin. When I don’t want to talk, he doesn’t push me to talk. When I can’t think of an explanation for my actions, he doesn’t call me out. And when I tell him that I’m not comfortable sleeping in his bed with him, he brings me the softest blanket and a somewhat clean pillow and lays them on his couch.
THE NEXT MORNING when I wake up, my neck is killing me. Zed’s old couch isn’t the most comfortable, but I slept well, considering.
“Hey,” he says when he walks into the living room.
“Hey.” I smile.