After We Collided (After, #2) by Anna Todd Read Online (FREE)
Seeing my father’s car, I walk up the driveway a little bit and look inside. In the backseat is that hideous purse that Tessa brings along to every single function she attends.
So she’s inside, she’s in there. My empty stomach flutters at the idea of seeing her, of being close to her. What would I even say? I don’t know. I have to explain how my days have been complete hell since I left for England and how I need her, I need her more than anything. I have to tell her that I’m an asshole and I can’t believe that I fucked up the one good thing in my life, her. She’s everything to me, she always will be.
I’ll just go inside and get her to leave with me so we can talk—I’m nervous, fuck am I nervous.
I’m going to throw up. No. But if there were food in my stomach , I’m sure I would. I know I look like complete shit; I wonder if she does. Not that she ever could, but has it been as hard for her as it’s been for me?
I finally reach the front door, but then turn back around. I hate being around people as it is, and there are at least fifteen cars in this driveway. Everyone will stare at me, and I’ll look like a goddamned fool, which is exactly what I am.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I spin around and quickly ring the doorbell.
This is for Tessa. This is for her, I keep reminding myself when Kim opens the door with a surprised smile.
“Hardin? I didn’t know you’d be here,” she says. I can tell she’s trying her hardest to be polite, but there’s an anger coming to the surface, probably because she’ll feel defensive of Tessa.
“Yeah . . . me either,” I reply.
Then a new emotion—pity. It seeps into her eyes when she takes in my appearance, which is probably even worse than I imagine, since I just got off the plane and came straight here.
“Well . . . come inside, it’s freezing out,” she offers and waves me inside.
For a moment I’m stunned by the way Vance’s house is decorated like a fucking work of art; it doesn’t even look like anyone lives here. It’s cool and all, but I like older things, not so Modern Art.
“We’re just getting ready to eat,” she tells me as I follow her into a dining room with glass walls.
And that’s when I see her.
My heart stops, and a pressure lands on my chest that is so overwhelming it nearly chokes me. As she listens to someone telling her a story or something, she smiles and slides her hand across her forehead to push her hair back. The reflection of the setting sun behind her makes her glow—literally—and I can’t move.
I hear her laugh, and for the first time in ten days I can breathe. I’ve missed her so much, and she looks phenomenal—she always does—but the red dress she’s wearing and the sun hitting her skin, the smile on her face . . . why is she smiling and laughing?