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

“Can you cook, Tessa?” Trish asks, breaking my thoughts. “Or is it Hardin, too?”

“Um, we both do. Maybe more ‘preparing’ than cooking, really,” I answer.

“I’m glad to hear that you’re taking care of my boy, and this apartment is so nice, too. I suspect Tessa does the cleaning,” she teases.

I’m not “taking care of her boy,” since that’s what he’s missing out on for hurting me the way he did. “Yeah . . . he’s a slob,” I answer.

Hardin looks down at me with a small smile playing on his lips. “I’m not a slob—she’s just too clean.”

I roll my eyes. “He’s a slob,” Trish and I say in unison.

“Are we going to watch a movie or pick on me all night?” Hardin is pouting.

I sit down before Hardin does so I don’t have to make the uncomfortable decision about where to sit. I can see him eyeing the couch and me, silently deciding what to do. After a moment, he sits right next to me, so I feel the familiar heat from his proximity.

“What do you want to watch?” his mother asks us.

“It doesn’t matter,” Hardin replies.

“You can choose.” I try to soften his answer.

She smiles at me before choosing 50 First Dates, a movie I’m sure Hardin will hate.

And right on cue, Hardin groans as it begins. “This movie is old as shit.”

“Shhh,” I say, and he huffs but stays quiet.

I catch him staring at me several times while Trish and I laugh and sigh along with the movie. I’m actually enjoying myself, and for a few moments I almost forget everything that has happened between Hardin and me. It’s hard not to lean into Hardin, not to touch his hands, not to move his hair when it falls onto his forehead.

“I’m hungry,” he mumbles when the movie ends.

“Why don’t you and Tessa cook, since I had such a long flight?” Trish smiles.

“You’re really milking this long-flight thing, aren’t you?” he says to her.

She nods with a wry smile that I’ve seen on Hardin’s face a few times.

“I can cook, it’s okay,” I offer and stand up. I walk into the kitchen and lean against the counter. I grip the edges of the marble countertop harder than necessary, trying to catch my breath. I don’t know how long I can do this, pretend that Hardin didn’t destroy everything, pretend that I love him. I do love him, I am miserably in love with him. The problem is not my lack of feelings toward this moody, egotistical boy. The problem is that I’ve given him so many chances, always dismissing the hateful things that he says and does. But this time it’s too much.

“Hardin, be a gentleman and help her,” I hear Trish say, and I rush over to the freezer to pretend like I wasn’t having a mini breakdown.

“Um . . . I can help?” His voice carries through the small kitchen.

“Okay . . .” I answer.