Generic selectors
Exact matches only
Search in title
Search in content
Search in posts
Search in pages

After We Collided (After, #2) by Anna Todd Read Online (FREE)

Breathe, Tessa. You have to breathe. Ignore the knife lodged in your chest.

I wipe my eyes and look at my reflection. My makeup hasn’t smudged, thank goodness, and my hair is still perfectly curled. My cheeks are slightly flushed, but in a way it makes me look better, more lively.

When I open the door, Trevor is leaning against the wall with concern clear in his features. “Are you okay? You ran out of there pretty fast.” He takes a step toward me.

“Yeah . . . I just needed some air,” I lie. A stupid lie, at that; it doesn’t even make sense to rush to the bathroom for air.

Lucky for me, Trevor is a gentleman and would never call me out on my lie the way Hardin would. “Okay, they’re serving dessert now, if you’re still hungry,” he says and escorts me back down the hallway.

“Not really, but I’ll have some,” I respond. I practice regulating my breathing, and find that it helps settle me some. I’m thinking about what to do about the impending Zed-Hardin meet-up when I hear Smith’s small voice coming from a room we pass by.

“How do you know?” he asks in his little, clinical manner.

“Because I know everything,” Hardin replies.

Hardin? Hanging out with Smith?

I stop and wave Trevor on. “Trevor, why don’t you go on. I . . . um . . . I’m going to talk to Smith.”

He looks at me questioningly. “Are you sure . . . I can wait,” he offers.

“No, I’m fine.” I politely dismiss him. He gives a little nod and wanders off. Leaving me free to impolitely eavesdrop.

Smith says something I don’t get, and Hardin replies, “I do, though, I know everything.” His voice is as calm as ever.

I lean against the wall next to the door as Smith asks, “Will she die?”

“No, man. What is with you always thinking everyone’s going to die?”

“I don’t know,” the little boy tells him.

“Well, it’s not true, not everyone dies.”

“Who dies?”

“Not everyone.”

“But who, Hardin?” Smith presses.

“People, bad people, I guess. And old people. And sick people—oh, and sad people sometimes.”

“Like your pretty girl?”

My heart races.

“No! She won’t. She’s not sad,” Hardin says, and I put my hand over my mouth.

“Yeah, huh.”

“No, she’s not. She’s happy, and she won’t die. Neither will Kimberly.”

“How do you know?”

“I already told you how I know, it’s because I know everything.” His tone has changed since the mention of my name.

I hear a dismissive little laugh from Smith. “No, you don’t.”

“Are you okay now? Or are you going to cry more?” Hardin asks.

“Don’t tease.”

“Sorry, are you done crying, though?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“Don’t mock me. It’s rude,” Hardin says.

“You’re rude.”

“So are you—are you sure you’re only five?” Hardin asks.

Which is exactly what I’ve always wanted to ask the kid. Smith is so mature for his age, but I guess he has to be, considering what he’s been through.