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Landon and I both turn to look at each other at the same time. No syllabus? Landon mouths.
A journal? I reply silently.
Professor Soto takes a seat at the large desk in the front of the room and pulls a bottle of water from his bag. “You can talk amongst yourselves until the end of class, or you can go ahead and go for today and we’ll begin the real work tomorrow. Just sign the roster so I can see how many flakes we had that didn’t show for the first day,” he announces with a playful grin.
The class howls and cheers before departing quickly, Landon shrugs at me, and we both stand up after the room is empty. We’re the last to sign the attendance roster.
“Well, I guess this is cool. I can call Dakota for a little while between classes,” he says and packs his things.
THE REST OF THE DAY goes by quickly, and I’m eager to see Hardin. I’ve sent him a few text messages, but he has yet to respond. My feet are killing me as I make my way to the athletic building; I hadn’t realized how far of a walk it would be. The smell of sweat invades my nostrils as soon as I open the main door, and I hurry to the locker room labeled with a stick figure in a dress. The walls are lined with thin red lockers, the metal showing through the chipped paint job.
“How do we know which locker to use?” I ask a short brunette wearing a bathing suit.
“Just pick one and use the lock you brought,” she says.
“Oh . . .” Of course, I didn’t think to bring a lock.
Seeing my expression, she digs into her bag and hands me a small lock. “Here, I have an extra. The combination is on the back; I haven’t removed the sticker.”
I thank her as she walks out of the room. After I’m changed into a new pair of black yoga pants and a white T-shirt, I head out. As I walk down the hall to the yoga room, a group of lacrosse players pass by, several of them making a vulgar remark that I choose to ignore. All of them except one keeps moving.
“You trying out for cheer next year?” the boy asks, his deep brown, almost black eyes looking me up and down.
“Me? No, I’m just on my way to yoga class,” I stammer. We are the only people in this hall.
“Oh, that’s too bad. You would look phenomenal in a skirt.”
“I have a boyfriend,” I announce and try to move around him. He blocks me.
“I have a girlfriend . . . what does that matter?” He smiles and takes a step, cornering me.
He doesn’t appear intimidating at all, but something about his cocky smile makes my skin crawl. “I need to get to class,” I say.
“I can walk you . . . or you can skip and I could show you around.” He puts his arm up on the wall next to my head, and I step backward with nowhere to go.
“Get the fuck away from her.” Hardin’s voice booms from behind me, and the creep turns his head to look at him.
He looks more intimidating than ever in long basketball shorts and a black T-shirt with the sleeves cut off to reveal his tattooed arms.
“I’m . . . sorry, man, I didn’t know she had a boyfriend,” he lies.
“Did you not hear me? I said get the fuck away from her.” Hardin walks toward us, and the lacrosse player backs away quickly, but Hardin grabs hold of his shirt and slams him against the wall.
I don’t stop him.
“Come near her again and I’ll crack your skull against this wall. Do you understand me?” he growls.
“Ye-yes . . .” the guy stutters and rushes down the hall.
“Thank God,” I say and wrap my arm around his neck. “Why are you here? I thought you didn’t need any more PE classes?” I ask.
“I decided to take one. And good thing.” He sighs and takes my hand into his.
“Which one?” I ask. I can’t imagine Hardin being athletic at all.
“Yours.”
I gasp. “You didn’t.”
“Oh, yes I did.” His anger seems to be dissolved as he smiles at my horrified expression.
Chapter sixty-seven
TESSA
Hardin makes it a point to walk slightly behind me, and I suddenly want to go back to the tenth grade when I would tie a sweater around my waist to hide myself.
His voice is quiet as he says, “You’re going to need to get more of these pants.”
I remember the last time I wore yoga pants in front of Hardin and the crude remarks he made, and those yoga pants weren’t as tight as these. I laugh lightly and grab his hand to force him to walk next to me instead of behind me.
“You aren’t seriously taking yoga.” No matter how hard I try to picture Hardin posing, the image just won’t come.
“Yeah, I am.”
“You do know what yoga is, don’t you?” I ask him as we walk into the room.
“Yes, Tessa. I know what it is, and I’m taking it with you,” he huffs.
“Why?”
“It doesn’t matter why—I just want to spend more time with you.”
“Oh.” I’m not convinced by his explanation, but I’m looking forward to seeing him try to do yoga, and the extra time with him doesn’t hurt either.
In the center of the room, the instructor sits on a bright yellow mat. Her curly brown hair piled on top of her head and her flower-print shirt make a welcoming first impression.
“Where is everyone?” Hardin asks me as I grab a purple mat from the shelving unit on the wall.
“We’re early.” I hand him a blue one, and he examines it before tucking it under his arm.
“Of course we are.” He smiles sarcastically and follows me to the front of the room.
