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

After I’ve danced through an unknown number of songs and two more drinks, the room begins to spin. I excuse myself to head for the bathroom, grabbing my purse on the way and pushing through endless sweaty bodies. I feel my phone start vibrating in my bag, so I dig it out. It’s my mother; no way I’m answering that—I’m way too drunk to talk to her right now. When I hit the bathroom line, something makes me scroll through my inbox, and I immediately frown at the realization that Hardin hasn’t texted me.

Maybe I should see what he’s up to?

No. I can’t do that. That would be irresponsible and I would regret it tomorrow.

The flashing lights bouncing off the walls are starting to get to me as I wait in line. I try to concentrate on my phone screen, hoping the feeling goes away. When the door to one of the stalls finally opens, I bolt in and lean over the toilet, waiting for my body to decide whether to get sick. I hate this feeling. If he were here, Hardin would bring me water, he would offer to hold my hair back.

No. No, he wouldn’t.

I should call him.

Realizing I won’t be sick, I exit the little room and go to the sink area. Hitting a couple of buttons on my phone, I place it between my shoulder and cheek and tear a paper towel from the dispenser. I place it under a faucet to wet it, but the water doesn’t come until I wiggle the towel around the sensor; I hate these automatic sinks. My eyeliner has run a little, and I look like a different person. My hair is wild and my eyes are bloodshot. After the third ring, I hang up and set my phone on the edge of the sink.

Why the hell isn’t he answering? I ask myself, and right then my phone starts to vibrate, almost falling into the water, which makes me laugh. I have no idea why, but I find it amusing.

Hardin’s name appears on the screen, and I swipe my wet finger across the screen. “Harold?” I say into the phone.

Harold? Oh Lord, I drank way too much.

Hardin’s voice sounds funny and breathless when it comes through. “Tessa? Is everything okay? Did you call me?”

God, his voice is heavenly.

“I don’t know—does your caller ID say that I did? Because if so, there’s probably a good chance it was me.” I laugh as I say this.

His tone changes. “Have you been drinking?”

“Maybe,” I squeak and toss the makeshift wipe into the trash.

Two drunken girls enter the area and one of them trips over her own feet, making everyone laugh. They stumble into the largest stall, and I focus my attention back on my phone call.

“Where are you?” Hardin asks harshly.

“Oh, calm down, would you?” He always tells me to calm down, so now it’s my turn.