Read Online After We Fell by Anna Todd - Free Book Online

topic for today’s journal that you missed?”
    â€œNo, Landon gave it to me already. I came by to thank you.” I shift uncomfortably on the heels of my gym shoes.
    â€œFor what?”
    â€œWriting that character witness statement for Hardin. I know he hasn’t been that pleasant to you, so it’s very appreciated.”
    â€œIt’s nothing, really. Everyone deserves a quality education, even hotheads.” He laughs.
    â€œI guess so.” I smile at him and look around the classroom, unsure what to say next.
    â€œBesides, Zed deserved what he got, anyway,” he says suddenly.
    What?
    I look back at him. “What do you mean?”
    Professor Soto blinks a few times before collecting himself. “Nothing, I’m just . . . I’m sure Hardin had a good reason for going after him, that’s all. I better get going, I have a meeting to get to, but thanks for coming by. I’ll see you in class Wednesday.”
    â€œI won’t be here Wednesday; I’m going on a trip.”
    With a light hand he waves this off. “Well, have fun, then. I’ll see you when you return.” He quickly walks off, leaving me bewildered by what he could have meant.

chapter nine
HARDIN
    M y unlikely drinking partner, Richard, has escaped to the rest­room for the fourth time since we’ve arrived. I get the feeling that Betsy the Bartender may taken have a slight liking toward the man, which makes me really fucking uncomfortable.
    â€œAnother?” she asks.
    With a nod, I dismiss the burly woman. It’s now after two in the afternoon, and I’ve had four drinks, which wouldn’t be so bad if they weren’t straight scotch with a smidgen of ice.
    My thoughts are cloudy and my anger has yet to subside. I don’t know who or what to be more mad about, so I’ve given up on reasoning things out and have decided to just run with a general state of pissed-the-fuck-off.
    â€œHere ya go.” The bartender slides my drink in front of me as Richard takes the stool directly next to me. I was under the impression he understood the importance of the empty stool between us. Guess not.
    He turns to me, raking his hand over the rough whiskers of his beard. The sound is disgusting. “Did you order me another?”
    â€œYou should shave that.” I offer my somewhat intoxicated opinion.
    â€œThis?” He does that thing with his hand again.
    â€œYes, that. It’s not a good look,” I say.
    â€œIt’s okay—keeps me warm.” He laughs, and I take a drink to stop myself from joining him.
    â€œBetsy!” he calls. She nods and pulls his empty glass from thecounter. Then he looks at me. “Are you going to tell me what it is you’re drinking over?”
    â€œNope.” I move my scotch in a circle, causing the solitary ice cube to clink against the glass.
    â€œFine; no questions, then. Only booze,” he says with some glee.
    My hatred toward him has dissolved for the most part. That is, until I picture the blond ten-year-old girl hiding in her mum’s greenhouse. Her blue-gray eyes are wide, fearful almost . . . and then the blond boy in the fucking cardigan shows up to save the day.
    â€œOne question,” he presses, jarring me from my thoughts.
    I take a deep breath and an even deeper drink to keep myself from doing something idiotic. I mean, more idiotic than drinking with my girlfriend’s alcoholic father. This family and their fucking questions. “One,” I say.
    â€œDid you really get kicked out of college today?”
    I look over at the neon Pabst sign, thinking over the question, wishing I hadn’t had four . . . no, five drinks. “No. But she thinks I did,” I admit.
    â€œAnd why does she think that?” Nosy fucker.
    â€œBecause I told her that I did.” I swing my gaze to him and say with dead eyes, “That’s enough confessions for one