After We Collided (After, #2) by Anna Todd Read Online (FREE)
“I meant to open the door for you,” he tells me when I open the door to get out.
“I can shut it back and you can reopen it?” I offer.
“That hardly counts, Theresa.” He smiles his smug smile, and I can’t help the butterflies in my stomach that appear when he calls me by my real name.
It used to drive me crazy, but I secretly loved every time he would say it to annoy me. I love it almost as much as I love the way he says “Tess.”
“We’re back to ‘Theresa,’ I see?” I smile back at him.
“Yes; yes, we are,” he says and takes my arm. I can see his confidence growing with each step we take toward the restaurant.
chapter one hundred and two
Do you know of another place you think you might like instead?” I ask her when we get back to the car. The man at the fancy restaurant I made reservations at claimed that my name wasn’t on the list. I kept my cool, careful not to ruin the night. He was such a fucking prick. My fingers grip the steering wheel.
Calm. I need to relax. I look over at Tessa and smile.
She bites her lip and looks away.
Was that creepy? That was creepy.
“Well, that was awkward.” My voice is unsteady and oddly high-pitched. “Do you have anything in particular you want, since we’ve apparently moved on to Plan B now?” I ask her, wishing I could think of another nice place to take her. One that might actually let us in.
“No, not really. Just somewhere with food.” She smiles.
She’s being really cool about this, and I’m glad. It was humiliating to be turned away like that. “Okay . . . McDonald’s, then?” I tease just to hear her laugh.
“We may look a little silly in McDonald’s.”
“Yeah, a little,” I agree.
I have no fucking idea where to go now. I should’ve come up with a backup plan ahead of time. This night is already spiraling, and it hasn’t even started yet.
We pull up to a stoplight, and I look around. A crowd of people fills the parking lot next to us. “What’s going on over there?” Tessa asks, trying to peer around me.
“I don’t know, there’s an ice-skating rink or some shit,” I tell her.
“Ice skating?” Her voice raises the way it does when she’s getting excited.
Oh no . . .
“Can we?” she asks.
Fuck. “Go ice skating?” I ask innocently, like I’m unsure of what she means.
Please say no. Please say no.
“Yeah!” she exclaims.
“I . . . I don’t . . .” I’ve never ice-skated in my life and never intended to, but if this is what she wants to do, then it won’t kill me to try . . . maybe it will, but I’ll do it anyway. “Sure . . . we can.”
When I look over, I can tell she’s surprised—she never expected me to agree to it. Hell, I didn’t either.
“Wait . . . what’ll we wear? I only have this dress and some Toms. I should have worn jeans, it would have been so fun,” she says, almost pouting.