When Hardin and I enter the living room, his mother is sitting on the couch with her wet hair pulled into a bun.

"So what do you two usually do all day?" She asks and I look at Hardin.

"Well.. we just watch television." He shrugs.

This couldn't possibly be more awkward.

"We should rent some movies and I will make dinner for all of us. Don't you miss my cooking?" She smiles at Hardin and he rolls his eyes.

"Sure. Best cook ever." He remarks sarcastically.

"Hey! I am not that bad." She laughs and I shift uncomfortably.

I don't know how to behave around Hardin unless we are together or fighting. This is an odd place for us, for me to be friendly but pay enough attention to him that his mother gets the impression that we are still dating. This is obviously a pattern of ours, Karen and Ken had been under the impression that Hardin and I were dating before we actually were.

"Can you cook Tessa? Or does Hardin do all of the cooking?" Anne asks me.

"Uhm, we both do." I answer. My chest burns thinking about the few times we prepared meals for one another.

"I am glad to hear that you are taking care of my boy, and this apartment is so nice you too. I suspect Tessa does the cleaning." She teases.

"Yea.. he is a slob." I answer and Hardin looks down at me with a small smile playing on his lips. I am not 'taking care of her boy' but I would have if he wouldn't have hurt me the way he did.

"I am not a slob, she is just too clean." He remarks and I roll my eyes.

"He's a slob." Anne and I say in unison.

"Are we going to watch a movie or pick on me all night?" Hardin pouts.

I walk to the couch and sit down before Hardin so I don't have to make the uncomfortable decision on where to sit. I can see him eying the couch and me, silently deciding how close to sit. He sits down next to me, right next to me and I feel the familiar heat from his close proximity.

"What do you want to watch?" His mother asks us.

"It doesn't matter." Hardin answers.

"You can choose." I try to soften his answer.

She smiles at me before choosing 'Fifty First Dates' a movie I am sure Hardin will hate.

"This movie is old as shit." Hardin groans as it begins.

"Shhh." I say and he huffs but stays quiet.

I catch him staring at me multiple times during the movie while Anne and I laugh and sigh along with the movie. I am actually enjoying myself and there are even a few times when I almost forget everything that has happened between us. It is hard to not lean on him, not touch his hands, not move his hair when it falls onto his forehead.

"I'm hungry." Hardin says when the movie ends.

"Why don't you and Tessa cook since I had such a long flight?" She smiles.

"You are really milking this long flight thing aren't you?" He says and she nods.

"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 and I are together, pretend that he 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 towards this moody, egotistical boy. The problem is that I have given him so many chances, always dismissing the hateful things that he says and does but this time it's too much. Especially him sleeping with Molly.

"Hardin be a gentleman and help her."  I hear his mother's voice instruct. I rush over to the freezer to pretend like I wasn't having a mini breakdown.

"Uhm.. I can help?" His voice carries through the small kitchen.

"Okay.." I answer.

"Popsicles?" He asks and I look at the object in my hands. I had meant to grab chicken but I was distracted.

"Yea, everyone likes popsicles right?' I say and he smiles,

I can do this, I can be around Hardin in the apartment that is still technically ours. I can be nice to him and we can get along.

"You should make that chicken pasta that you made for me." I suggest.

"That's what you want to eat?" He asks me.

"Yes. If it's not too much trouble."

"Of course not." He says.

"You're being so weird today." I whisper so our house guest doesn't hear.

"No I'm not." He shrugs and steps toward me.

My heart begins to race as he leans into me. As I move to step away he grabs the handle to the freezer and pulls it open. I thought he was going to kiss me. What the hell is wrong with me?

We cook dinner in almost complete silence, neither of us knowing what to say. My eyes watching him the entire time, the way his long fingers curl around the base of the knife to chop the chicken and the vegetables, the way he closes his eyes when the steam from the boiling water hits his face, the way his tongue swipes the corners of his mouth when he tastes the sauce. I know this isn't conducive or healthy in any way but I can't help it.

"I'll set the table while you get tell her it's ready." I tell him.

"I'll just call her name."

"No, that's rude. Just go get her." I say and he rolls his eyes but walks from the room.

Seconds later he returns alone.

"She's asleep." He tells me.

"What?" I heard him but I still ask.

"Yea, she's passed out on the couch. Should I just wake her up?"

"No, don't wake her. She had a long day. I will put some away for her so whenever she gets up she can eat. It's sort of late anyway."

"It's eight."

"Yea.. that's late."

"I guess." His voice is flat.

"What is with you? I know this is uncomfortable and all but you are being so weird." I say as I put food on two plates without thinking.

"Thanks." He says and grabs one before sitting down at the table.

I grab a fork from the drawer and decide to stand at the counter to eat,.

"Are you going to tell me?'

"Tell you what?" He asks and puts the fork to his lips.

"Why you are being so ... quiet and .. nice. It's weird."

He swallows and opens his mouth to answer.

"I just don't want to say the wrong thing." His answer catches me off guard. That's not what I expected to hear.

"Oh." Is all I can think to say.

"SO why are you being so nice and weird?" He repeats my words.

"Because your mother is here and I am done being angry about it. What happened, happened and there is nothing I can do to change it. I can't hold onto that anger forever." I explain and lean my elbow against the counter to support the sudden increase of weight on my shoulders.

"So what does that mean?"

"Nothing. I am just saying that I don't want us to fight anymore. That doesn't change anything between us." I bite my cheek to distract my eyes from tears.

He doesn't say anything. Instead, he stands up and throws his plate in the sink harshly. The porcelain plate splits down the middle and the loud noise causes me to jump. Hardin doesn't flinch or even turn back around before stalking off to the bedroom.

I peer into the living room to make sure that his impulsive behavior hasn't woken his mother. She is still asleep with her mouth slightly opened, making her resemblance to her son much stronger.

I am left to clean up the mess that Hardin made, as usual. I load the dishwasher and put the leftovers away for Anne before wiping the counter down.

I am exhausted, mentally more than physically, but I need to take a shower and go to bed. Where the hell am I going to sleep? Hardin is in the bedroom and Anne is on the couch. Maybe I should just drive back to the hotel. I will take a shower first then decide. I turn the heat up a little and switch off the light in the living room.

When I walk into the bedroom to get my pajamas Hardin is sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He doesn't look up when I enter so I grab a pair of shorts, a t-shirt and panties from my bag before exiting the room. As I hit the doorway I hear what sounds like a muffled sob coming from Hardin. Is he crying? He isn't , he couldn't be.

Just for the slightest chance that he is, I can't leave the room.  I pad back to the bed and stand in front of him.

"Hardin?" I say quietly and extend my hand to remove his hands from his face.

He resists but I pull harder.

"Look at me." I beg.

The breath is knocked out of me when he does. His eyes are bloodshot and his cheeks are soaked with tears.

I try take his hands in mine but he jerks away.

"Just go Tessa." He says.

I have heard him say that too many times.

"No." I kneel down in between his opened legs.

"This was a bad idea. I am going to tell my mum in the morning." He says and wipes his eyes with the back of his hands.

"You don't have to." I have seen him on the verge of tears before but never full on, body shaking, tears streaming down his face, crying.

"Yea I do. This is torture for me to have you so close but so far. It's the worst possible punishment. Not that I don't deserve it because I know I do but it's too much, even for me." He sobs.

"When you agreed to stay.. I thought that maybe.. maybe you still cared for me the way I do for you. But I see it Tess, I see the way you look at me now. I see the pain I have caused you. I see the change in you because of me. I know that I did this, but it still kills me to have you slip through my fingers." The tears come much faster now, falling against his black t-shirt.

I want to say anything and everything to make this stop. To make his pain go away, but where was he when I was crying myself to sleep night after night.

"You want me to go?" I ask him and he nods.

His rejection hurts, even now. I know I shouldn't be here, we shouldn't be doing this but I need more. I need more time with him. Even dangerous, painful time is better than no time. I wish I didn't love him, that I never met him. But I did, and I do love him.

"Okay." I swallow and stand up.

His hand grips around my wrist to stop me.

"I am sorry. For everything, for hurting you, for everything."  Goodbye is thick is his tone.

As much as I resist this, I know deep down that I am not ready for him to give up on me. On the other hand I am not ready to easily forgive him either. I have been in a constant state of confusion for days but today takes the cake.

"I.. " I stop myself.

"What?"

"I don't want to go." I say so low that I am not sure if he even heard me.

"What?" He asks again.

"I don't want to go, I know I should but I don't. Not tonight at least." I swear I can see the pieces of the broken man in front of me slowly come back together, one by one.

"What does this mean?"

"I don't know what it means but I am not ready to find out either." I say and watch as he wipes his face with his shirt.

"Okay. You can sleep on the bed, I will take the floor." His earlier sobs, no where to be found. My mind entertains the thought that it was all for show but somehow I know that it wasn't.