The bottle calls for me, and I slam the cabinet closed.
I still have control.
I wonât let Tessa or that fucking bottle control me.
I wonât.
I stare up at the ceiling when I finally make it to my bed, and I just know itâs going to be a long night.
ITâS DARK, SO DARK in this closet. Iâm tired of hiding in here, but thereâs nowhere else to go. My mumâs screams wonât be drowned out, and no matter how many times I search downstairs for her, I canât find her. I hear her, but donât see her. I saw them, though, the men. I saw them and I heard their voices echoing through the walls of this small house and into my head.
The closet door opens, and I curl back, hoping not to be seen but slightly wanting them to just end the sounds of my mum screaming.
A hand reaches through the small space, and I look around for something to defend myself with other than a coat hanger.
âHardin?â a soft voice calls through the dark.
The hanging clothes part in the middle, and she steps in, looking directly at me.
Tessa.
Sheâs here? How?
âDonât be scared, Hardin.â
She sits down next to me, her body so warm and unafraid. She has a flower pushed behind her ear, and sheâs reaching for my hands. Her small fingernails are crusted with dirt, and she smells like a flower shop or a greenhouse.
My mumâs screams have stopped, and my heart slows from a panic to a cool rhythm as she wraps her small hand around mine.
BY THE TIME I get to campus, the caffeine has surged through my body, sharpening my sight and helping me forget the fucked-up dream that I had.
Why was she there? Why would I dream about Tessa? It wasnât even Tessa as she is now; it was a version of young Tessa, her cheeks rounded and her eyes bright and comforting with premature womanliness. It was oddâso fucking weird, reallyâand I didnât like it one bit.
I loved the sleep, though. I loved being able to sleep for once in my fucking life, and today I feel . . . well . . . rested? Hell, calmer, at least.
Inside the literature hall, I take a seat in the front row, next to two empty ones. I gaze toward the front of the room, waiting for class to start. Iâm fighting the urge to watch the door, to wait for her.
When I finally look back a few minutes later, Tessa and Landon enter the room. Sheâs smiling, focusing only on him. Sheâs developed a friendship with the kid that has gone beyond what I saw coming.
I wasnât surprised when they hit it off . . . but I didnât think Landonâs friendship would be more of a threat than Zedâs competition for the Bet.
thirteen
Today will be our last day on Pride and Prejudice,â the professor tells us. âI hope youâve all enjoyed it, and since youâve all read the ending, it feels fitting to base todayâs discussion on Austenâs use of foreshadowing. Let me ask: As a reader, did you expect Elizabeth and Darcy to become a couple in the end?â
Tessaâs hand shoots up instantly, and I lean back in my seat. She never fails to be a know-it-all. Just like Landon . . . the perfect little American couple.
âMiss Young.â The professor calls on her, and I watch her face light up. She really gets off on making other people happy or pleased by her. I could use this to my advantage, for sure.
I shut off my inner monologue and patiently await her rant on good olâ P&P. If sheâs as bright as I think she is, this should be interesting.
âWell, the first time I read the novel, I was on the edge of my seat about whether they would end up together.â
Yeah, I would bet they would end up together, just like Iâm betting that Tessa and perfect Landon will have the perfect relationship.
âEven nowâand I have read it at least ten timesâI still feel anxious during the beginning of their relationship. Mr. Darcy is so cruel and says hateful things about Elizabeth and her family that I never know if sheâll be able to forgive him, let alone love him.â The smile on Tessaâs face is bright when she finishes, and her hands neatly fold together on top of her book. She waits expectantly for the professor to pat her on the head and tell her what a wonderful little pupil she is. Landon looks at her, expecting her to glow like a rainbow and spray out colorful glitter from her fingertips.
Iâm going to throw a wrench into that.
Speak, Hardin.
My voice nudges at the back of my throat. All it will take is a few words. My mumâs reminder: âJust breathe, Hardin. You can talk in front of others.â She would always tell me not to worry. âA lot of people have social anxiety, Hardin. Itâs nothing to be ashamed of.â
But me, I donât have social anxiety. I just donât like people.
âThatâs a load.â My voice is loud, filling up the silent room.
âMr. Scott? Would you like to add something?â the professor asks, clearly surprised by my participation.
âSure.â I lean forward in my seat. Tessaâs face is a blank mask; sheâs shocked but hiding it well. âI said thatâs a load. Women want what they canât have. Mr. Darcyâs rude attitude is what drew Elizabeth to him, so it was obvious they would end up together.â
That said, I look down and start to pick at the torn, pink skin surrounding my fingernails.
âThat isnât true, about women wanting what they canât have,â Tessa bursts out. I look over at her as smoothly as Iâm able. âMr. Darcy was only mean to Elizabeth because he was too proud to admit he was attracted to her. Once he stopped his hateful act, she saw that he really loved her.â And to punctuate her passionate words, she slaps one shaking hand against her desk, hard.
I glance around to the roomful of eyes blinking back at us. My friend Danâs sister is sitting in the front row, smiling widely at me.
I can feel the eyes of my fellow students probing at my skin. I need to say something back. I need to speak. âI donât know what kind of guys you normally go for, but I think that if Darcy loved her, he wouldnât have been mean to her,â I say. Just like Iâm sure your current boyfriend and your future boyfriend, Landon there, wouldnât be. They wouldnât challenge her. âThe only reason he even ended up asking for her hand in marriage was because she wouldnât stop throwing herself at him.â
Did Elizabeth throw herself at Darcy? No, the exact opposite.