AFTER YOU SAVED ME // ZESSA

Chapter 24: Choosing a Better Solution

Zed's POV

Pulling into my apartment garage, I see Hardin's obnoxiously loud car idling by the entrance. I pull up next to it, rolling my eyes at the way he dramatically puts his hands up, as if I were too close and going to hit his precious black vehicle.

Getting out of our cars, I hear him mutter, "could you get any closer?" as he closes his door.

"I wasn't going to hit you, dude," I mutter, huffing in annoyance.

"You just enjoy parking inches from other people's cars?" he asks sarcastically, leaning up against the hood of his trunk, eyeing the space between our vehicles.

"There's like a foot of space, man – You know what, I didn't come here to argue about parking etiquette. What did you find?" I ask, walking around to his side, keeping a few feet of distance between us in case he decides to blow a gasket over my parking.

Looking at me, he nods his head once, saying, "You're right. Like I said I found something. Well, more like I remembered something."

I widen my eyes impatiently, cocking my head to the side and shaking it, as if to say, "get on with it already".

"When I first met Dan, before he was into selling hard drugs and just sold weed to me and a couple friends, he used to make me meet him at the end of a random block like 30 minutes outside of campus in some shitty neighborhood. I would ask him why and he'd always get pissed, never gave me a straight answer," Hardin explains, trying to remember the details clearly, "but always on that block until he finally got his own place, and I would just meet him there."

"Well, I was talking about it with Steph and Molly," he continues, as I try and stop my face from contorting in disgust at the thought of those girls – who have only ever caused Tessa problems, "and Molly remembers this house, too. She only went once with me but knew exactly what I was talking about. This was right before I met you or Tristan," he says nodding in my direction. "Anyways, Molly mentioned she thought she had a picture of the place – or at least the block. She was really into those fucking polaroid cameras at the time, always taking pictures when I was driving, like I couldn't fucking kill us both every time the flash went off and nearly blinded me."

"Sounds like Molly," I say snidely.

"Yes, well, she thought she still had the photos she took of that night, and she sure as shit did," Hardin says, pulling out a faded polaroid of him in his driver's seat looking very pissed off. "See there, a house number," he says, pointing just behind his head at the nearly unreadable numbers on the dark panel siding.

Handing me the polaroid photo, I squint at the house address, making out only a couple zeros.

"It says 16020," Hardin mumbles, while I still inspect the phot. Now that he says it, I can sort of make out the loop of the six and the slanting of the 2.

"How did you know that? I can't even be sure that's right," I say handing the photo back, blinking a few times to relieve the strain in my eyes.

Hardin puts it in his jacket pocket and says, "Tristan actually helped me with that, explaining all types of shit about the shape of numbers and the font of the address. I do not know how he knew it, but I am glad he did. Probably watched too many episodes of the God-awful Law and Order show him and Steph love," he laughs.

"Okay, so what does that mean? Don't we need a street name as well?" I ask, wondering how this helps us find Tessa.

"Well, that's what I thought. Tristan suggested we hop on google maps, typing in 16020 in the areas east of campus within a 40-mile radius. Genius really, though it took fucking forever. Finally found it though, the exact house in the photo," Hardin smiles, clapping his hands once and looking almost giddy with excitement.

"I swear, Tristan and I should be fucking detectives with all the shit we did this morning," Hardin exclaims, shaking his head in disbelief.

"So, did you go to the house? Did you tell the cops?" I ask immediately, the adrenaline kicking up in my veins.

I see his face fall a bit, as he says, "Of course I did. They said they would 'look into it,' whatever the fuck that means. They did not seem that impressed with what me and Tristan found. I was going to go over there with Tristan actually, but he refused. Said it would be better for the police to handle and did not want to get involved like that," Hardin explains, obviously frustrated, the veins in his head protruding as his face grows increasingly more red. This is about the time when Hardin freaks out and punches something – usually me if I am in the room.

I take a slow step back, raisings my arms slightly and say, "Hey man, let's figure out a plan or something."

Then I see him do something very out of the ordinary. He stops, closes his eyes, and starts deep breathing. And I think he is even... counting?

"I'm not going to fucking hit you," he says, eyes still closed, fingers now pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Okay...good, good," I say, letting out a breath I did not know I was holding.

"Acting on my anger only fuels the fire. I can feel angry, but have to channel that anger into something productive," he says, still locked in the same position, as I stare on in shock.

"Uh, yeah man," I nod, "that is... that's right."

"I am not the complete fuck head I was before – well, at least I am trying not to be," he says, opening his eyes, his face slightly less red.

"I'll take it," I say honestly, just happy we are not fist fighting on the ground.

"I can still kick your fucking ass though, I am simply choosing a better solution – or whatever the fuck my doctor goes on about," he smiles. "Now get in the damn car, I'm driving," he demands, walking to his driver side door.

"Where are we going?" I ask, walking to the other side of his car.

"We are going to find that fucking house – keep up," he smiles, sliding into the car.

"Okay then, let's do this," I say with confidence, and get in.