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)

I choose to ignore his last question. If I’d just kept my cool this morning, she might have possibly let me stay another night with her. Instead, she’s still in Seattle with fucking Trevor.

I hear footsteps coming down the stairs, and my father’s body appears in the doorway a moment later. “I thought I heard your voice . . .”

“Yeah . . . I came to talk to Landon,” I lie. Well, it’s half the truth; I was going to talk to whoever I saw first.

I’m pathetic.

He looks surprised. “You did?”

“Yeah. Um, also, Mum is coming Tuesday morning,” I tell him. “For Christmas.”

“That’s great to hear. I know she misses you,” he tells me.

My first instinct is to think of a comeback, some remark about how shitty a father he is, but I simply don’t feel like it.

“Well, I’ll leave you two boys to talk,” he says and walks back to the stairs. “Oh, and Hardin?” my father says when he’s halfway up.

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“Okay,” I state. I don’t know what else to say. My dad gives me a tight smile and continues up the stairs.

This whole day is a fucking mess. My head hurts. “Well . . . I guess I’m going to go . . .” I say to Landon, and he nods.

“I’ll do what I can,” he promises as I walk to the door.

“Thanks.” And when we both stand awkwardly in the doorway, I mumble, “You know I’m not going to like hug you or some shit, right?”

As I walk out the door, I hear him laugh and shut the door.

 

chapter twenty-one

TESSA

Big plans for Christmas?” Trevor asks.

I raise one finger to tell him to wait a moment while I savor this bite of ravioli. The food here is excellent, and I’m no foodie, but I imagine this has to be a five-star restaurant.

“Not really. Just going to my mother’s house for the week. You?”

“I’m doing some volunteer work at this shelter, actually. I don’t really like to go back to Ohio. I have a few cousins and aunts, but since my mother passed, there isn’t much there for me,” he explains.

“Oh, Trevor, I’m sorry about your mother. But that’s very kind of you, to volunteer.” I smile sympathetically and take the last piece of ravioli into my mouth. It tastes as good as the first bite, but this revelation about Trevor makes me enjoy the food a little less while making me appreciate the dinner even more. Is that strange?

We talk for a while longer, and enjoy an amazing flourless chocolate cake with a caramel topping for dessert. Afterward, when the waitress brings our check, Trevor pulls out his wallet.

“You aren’t one of those women who demands to pay half of the bill, are you?” he teases.

“Ha.” I laugh. “Maybe if we were at McDonald’s.”

He chuckles but doesn’t say anything. Hardin would have made some stupid sarcastic remark about how my comment had set feminism back fifty years.