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

He was so upset with me over Zed, but now I can barely tell how he felt, given the smiles and sarcastic humor he keeps throwing at me. Maybe his anger is overpowered by the fact that he missed me and he’s happy that I’m no longer upset with him? I don’t know the reasoning, but I know better than to question it. I do wish he’d let me talk about Seattle. How will he react? I don’t even want to tell him, but I know that I have to. Will he be happy for me? I don’t think so; actually, I know he won’t be.

“Come here.” He coaxes me onto his chest as he lies back on the bed. His hand finds the remote to the television on the wall, and he flicks through channel after channel before pausing on some sort of historical documentary.

“How was it seeing your mom?” I ask him a few minutes later.

He doesn’t respond, and when I look up at his face, he’s fast asleep.

IT’S HOT. WAY TOO HOT, when I come back to consciousness. Hardin is lying on top of me, nearly all his weight pinning me down to the mattress. I’m on my back and Hardin’s on his front, his head on my chest; one of his arms is wrapped around my waist and the other stretched across the space next to him. I’ve missed sleeping this way and even waking up sweating from Hardin’s body blanketing mine. When I glance at the clock, I see that it’s seven twenty—my alarm is set to go off in ten minutes. I don’t want to wake Hardin, he looks so serene; a soft smile plays on his sleeping lips. He usually frowns, even in his sleep.

In an attempt to move him without waking him up, I lift his arm from around my waist.

“Mm-hmm . . .” he whines as his eyes flutter and his body stirs, gripping me tighter.

I stare at the ceiling and debate whether or not to just roll him off of me.

“What time is it?” he asks, his voice thick with sleep.

“Almost seven-thirty.” I tell him quietly.

“Dammit. Can we play hooky today?”

“No, but you can.” I smile and gently run my fingers over his hair, massaging his scalp softly.

“We could go to breakfast?” He turns his face to look at me.

“You drive a hard bargain, but I can’t.” I really want to, though. He slides his body down slightly so his chin rests just under my chest. “Did you sleep well?” I ask him.

“Yes, very. I haven’t slept like that since . . .” He trails off.

I feel so happy suddenly and smile wide. “I’m glad you got some sleep.”

“Can I tell you something?” He doesn’t seem quite awake yet; his eyes are glossy and his voice is raspier than ever.

“Of course.” I go back to massaging his scalp.

“When I was in England, at my mum’s, I had a dream . . . well, nightmare.”