Chapter 102 (1/2)

Zed insists on walking me up. As much as I think that will not end well, I don’t know if I’m capable of getting myself up to the apartment alone in my intoxicated state.

Damn Hardin for leaving me at that party. Damn me for being an impulsive idiot. Damn Zed for being so sweet and fearless when he shouldn’t be. Damn Washington for being so damn cold.

When we reach the elevator, my head begins to pound along with my heart. I need to go over what I’m going to say to Hardin. He’ll be so mad at me, and I need to think of a good way to apologize without using sex. I’m not used to being the one to apologize for anything, because he’s always the one who messes up. Being on this side of things doesn’t feel good at all. It feels terrible.

We walk down the hallway, and I can’t help but feel as if we’re preparing to walk the plank. I just don’t know whether it will be Zed or myself that drops down into the water.

I knock, and Zed stands a few feet behind me as we wait for the door to open. This was a terrible idea, I should’ve just stayed at the party. I knock again, this time louder. What if he doesn’t answer?

What if he took my car and isn’t even here? I didn’t think of that.

“If he doesn’t answer, can I go to your place?” I try to hold my tears back.

I don’t want to stay at Zed’s and make Hardin even more upset with me, but I can’t really think of another option.

What if he doesn’t forgive me? I can’t be without him. Zed’s hand touches my back, and he rubs up and down to soothe me. I cannot cry, I need to be calm when he answers . . . if he answers.

“Of course you can,” Zed finally replies.

“Hardin! Please open up,” I quietly beg and rest my forehead against the door. I don’t want to yell and cause a scene at nearly two in the morning; our neighbors probably have issues with us yelling enough already.

“I guess he’s not going to answer.” I sigh and lean up against the wall for a minute. Then, finally, as we turn to walk away, the door clicks open.

“Well . . . look who decided to show up,” Hardin says as he stands in the doorway and eyes us. Something about his tone sends chills down my spine. When I turn to face him, his eyes are bloodshot and his cheeks are pink. “Zed! Pal! It’s so nice to see you,” he slurs. He’s drunk.

My thoughts suddenly clear. “Hardin . . . have you been drinking?”

He looks at me imperiously, clearly unsteady. “What’s it to you? You have a new boyfriend.”

“Hardin . . .” I don’t know what to say to him. He’s obviously wasted. The last time I saw him this drunk was the night Landon called me to come to Ken’s house. With his father’s history of drinking, and the way Trish was so fearful that Hardin had began to drink again, my heart sinks.

“Thank you for bringing me home, I think you should go now,” I politely say to Zed. Hardin is too drunk to be around Zed.