Nothing More by Anna Todd

intrusiveness it doesn’t bother me. I run my hand over my chin, tugging slightly at the hair growing there. I lift my hands up in defense.
    â€œI have no freaking clue, she just kissed me. I didn’t even know she knew my name—”
    â€œShe what !” Tessa shrieks.
    This little sip of gossip is enough to keep Tessa Young going for days. I’ll definitely hear about it later. My mom may hear about it, too.
    The repairman cocks his head to the side like he’s listening to a daytime drama. He could at least be subtle about it. Then again, if I fixed appliances all day, I would want some comic relief or some kind of entertainment. Like adding a little splash of color to a black-and-white painting.
    â€œI didn’t know either! Well, I know she knew your name,” Tessa says, being as literal as ever.
    â€œI don’t know. I’m just as confused as you.”
    Something is off in the way Tessa is looking at me, like she’s trying to hide her disappointment. I’m not sure what to make of this. My guess is because she misses Hardin, but I’m probably wrong. I haven’t got a clue what to think about any of this.
    Instead of indulging in gossip that may or may not be worth it, I tighten the drawstring on my sweats and head toward the door.
    â€œWe aren’t done here, Landon Gibson!” Tessa shouts after me.
    And somehow it all makes me feel a little like a criminal on the run.

chapter
Nine
    I CLOSE THE APARTMENT DOOR behind me and nearly slam into someone in the hallway.
    When his hood falls down, I don’t recognize him. He’s wearing a black coat and gray Windbreaker pants. He nods at me, being friendly enough, and lifts his hood back over his head. Our apartment building has about twenty units and I’ve seen nearly every person or couple who lives here, but not this guy. Maybe he just moved in.
    â€œExcuse me, sorry!” I say as I move out of his way, but he just grunts in reply.
    At the corner of the block, I break out into a run. I wait for the ache to resurface in my knee, and it does, but it’s bearable now. The low, simmering pain is no longer a sharp throb.
    I pick up my pace. My Nikes hit the sidewalk with hardly any noise at all. I remember when I first started running and my legs would burn and my chest would feel like it was going to explode. I pushed and pushed—I needed to be healthy, and now I am. Not healthy like the stroller moms in Brooklyn who take shots of wheatgrass for breakfast and feed their babies kale and quinoa for lunch. But healthy insofar as being active.
    I often empty my mind when I run, though sometimes I think about my mom and the baby, about Tessa and Hardin, or I stew with frustration if the Chicago Blackhawks beat the Detroit Red Wings. Today I feel like I have a lot on my mind.
    First: Dakota’s behavior. She’s barely spoken to me since she broke up with me, and now she’s acting like we will see each other every day. She was so worked up over her audition and I wish there was something I could do. I can’t go to one of the most prestigious ballet academies in the country and knock on their door claiming racial discrimination without any proof. Especially with all the madness going on in the country already. The last thing that I want to do is to cause Dakota to get too much negative attention while she’s trying to start a career there.
    The shit that I’m used to helping her with is so different from this. Her career is something that I absolutely can’t do anything about. The obstacles that we used to battle together seem so distant now, a part of our past. Our problems felt much heavier back then, much more immediate. I don’t know what to do with practical, day-to-day problems like school or career choices.
    This is one of the few times that I would like to be Hardin for about an hour. I would rush down to that academy, pound on the door, and demand justice for