Chapter 11 Chapter 10
Harper POV
The rink smells like cold metal and burnt coffee. I’ve been here since seven, clipboard in hand, pretending table placements for the charity gala matter more than the gossip circling campus.
Logan Shaw and some puck bunny.
Same one, twice in one weekend.
It shouldn’t bother me. There’s always a lineup of girls chasing after the hockey team—perfect hair, short skirts, that desperate sparkle in their eyes. They live for the attention, for the photos, for bragging rights.
And Logan always gives them something to brag about.
I tell myself it doesn’t matter. I’m just here to make sure the Titans don’t turn the fundraiser into chaos. Not to think about him. Not to care.
Then Tyler Hayes appears, helmet in hand, smirk locked in place.
“Morning, Harper.”
“Morning,” I say, without looking up.
He leans against the boards. “You’re really running this whole gala thing? Didn’t think you’d want to hang around us much.”
“I’m not hanging around,” I say, checking my notes. “I’m working.”
Tyler laughs softly. “Right. Just funny, considering what Shaw says.”
My pen stops. “What does that mean?”
He grins like he’s savoring it. “Just that you’ve been after him since high school. He talks about it sometimes—says you’ve always had this crush, that you can’t take a hint. That you keep showing up where he is.”
I stare at him. “You’re making that up.”
“I’m not,” he says, shrugging. “Honestly, he says some pretty rough stuff when the guys get him going. That he’s not into you. Not his type. You know how it is—he likes the puck bunnies, not the girl-next-door thing.”
Every word feels like it’s scraping across my chest.
Tyler watches me too closely. “Don’t look so shocked. Shaw’s good, but he’s shallow. You could do better.” His eyes drop, lingering in a way that makes my stomach turn. “Way better.”
“Are you done?” I say tightly.
He smiles, lazy and cruel. “Hey, I’m just being honest.”
I turn and walk away, the sound of his laughter following me down the corridor.
⸻
The rest of the morning is a blur of polite smiles and half-finished tasks. I nod through conversations I don’t hear, scribble notes I don’t read.
All I can think about is what Tyler said.
Did Logan really talk about me like that?
Did he really tell people I was chasing him?
It sounds like him—careless, charming, always feeding whatever story makes him look untouchable. But part of me wants to believe he wouldn’t. That maybe Tyler was just trying to stir something up.
Still… the image won’t leave my mind: Logan laughing with his teammates, shrugging off my name like it meant nothing.
And the worst part is, maybe it doesn’t.
⸻
Back at Alpha Chi, the house hums with noise and motion—music, laughter, life. I should feel centered here. Instead, everything feels off-balance.
I close my bedroom door and sink onto my bed, the clipboard still clutched in my hand. The rumor keeps echoing, louder each time.
You’re not his type.
He likes the puck bunnies.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror: brown hair, fair skin, nothing bold or exotic about me. Just Harper—the dependable one, the good girl, the one no one looks at twice.
Logan’s always liked a show.
Bronze skin. Sharp confidence. The kind of girls who demand the spotlight.
I could fake the look, maybe even the attitude, but not the person underneath. No amount of pretending will make me her.
Anger flares through the ache. Maybe I’ve been too quiet, too easy to overlook. Maybe it’s time he remembers I’m not invisible.
I grab my phone and open the Alpha Chi group chat.
Harper: We’re throwing a party this weekend. Full house. No excuses.
Almost instantly, the replies explode with emojis and exclamation points.
A smile ghosts across my face, tight and deliberate.
Fine. Let him come.
Let him see me surrounded by everyone else for once.
If Logan Shaw’s been running his mouth, he can do it while watching me own the room he thinks I don’t belong in.