Chapter 114 Chapter 113
Harper POV
The day of the auction is chaos.
Not the cute, movie-montage kind of chaos where everyone is laughing and carrying floral arrangements in slow motion.
Real chaos.
Chairs scraping across the floor. Volunteers arguing about table numbers. Someone yelling that the string lights are tangled again. A catering guy asking where the outlet is like this isn’t his job.
The hall smells like fresh flowers and stress.
I’m in the middle of it all with a clipboard in my hand and a headache forming behind my eyes.
“Okay,” I call, clapping once. “Centerpieces go on every table except the front row. Those are reserved for donors. No, not those donors, the ones with the gold name tags. Yes, it matters.”
A girl scurries past with a box of bid paddles.
I pivot immediately.
“Careful with those! If we lose a paddle, Daniel Meyers will actually combust.”
Someone laughs nervously.
I don’t.
My hair is pulled back, my dress for tonight hanging untouched in my room like a threat. Right now I’m in leggings and a sorority sweatshirt, running purely on caffeine and adrenaline.
This is what I know.
Control.
Organization.
Tasks.
It’s easier than thinking about last night.
It’s easier than thinking about Logan Shaw’s mouth in a dark hallway.
Or his voice when he said he was scared.
Or the way I walked away anyway.
I force myself to focus on the stage.
“Backdrop needs to be centered,” I mutter, scanning the room. “Where is the hockey team? They were supposed to be here helping set up.”
I spot one of the players—freshman, I think—hovering near the chairs like he’s afraid they might attack him.
I march over.
“Hey,” I say sharply. “Where is your captain?”
He blinks. “Uh… Logan?”
“Yes,” I say, impatience flaring. “Logan Shaw. He was supposed to be here an hour ago.”
The guy shrugs like this is all above his pay grade.
“I don’t know,” he says. “Probably still on top of some chick he picked up last night after the meet-and-greet.”
The words hit like ice water.
I freeze.
My grip tightens around the clipboard.
“What?” I say, too quiet.
The player chuckles, oblivious to the way my stomach just dropped.
“You know. Shaw’s Shaw. He’s not exactly the settle-down type.”
My throat goes dry.
That can’t be true.
Not after last night.
Not after Logan looked at me like—
Like he was finally seeing me.
Not after his confession in that hallway, his hands shaking like he didn’t trust himself.
But then the doubt creeps in, poisonous and familiar.
Of course it could be true.
Logan is Logan.
He’s done it before.
And I’m the one who pushed him away.
I’m the one who walked back into the crowd and left him standing there.
I swallow hard, forcing my voice to stay even.
“Okay,” I say briskly. “Thanks. Go… carry something.”
He nods and wanders off.
I stand there for a second too long, staring at nothing.
My chest feels tight.
Stupid.
God, I’m stupid.
I told myself I wouldn’t do this.
I told myself I wouldn’t let him scramble my brain.
But one careless comment from a hockey player and suddenly I’m sixteen again, watching Logan laugh with girls who look nothing like me.
The hall blurs at the edges.
“Harper?”
Lila’s voice cuts through.
I blink and turn.
She’s walking toward me with an armful of centerpieces, slightly out of breath.
Her eyes narrow immediately.
“Okay,” she says. “What happened? You look like you just got haunted.”
“I’m fine,” I lie automatically.
Lila scoffs. “Sure.”
She sets the centerpieces down on a nearby table with a huff.
“Talk.”
I force a smile.
“Just trying to get everything perfect,” I say tightly. “You know how I get.”
Lila’s gaze stays sharp.
“And it would be easier,” I add, irritation bleeding in, “if the damn captain of the hockey team was here doing his fair share.”
Lila snorts. “Oh, don’t worry. Daniel will probably staple Logan to a wall later.”
I let out a breath, trying to shake it off.
I glance around the room again, my voice sharper than I mean it to be.
“It’s ridiculous. He shows up for the photos and the glory but disappears when it’s time to actually work.”
Lila tilts her head.
“…Are we talking about auction logistics or are we talking about your emotional spiral named Logan Shaw?”
I open my mouth—
Then the doors at the far end of the hall swing open.
The noise shifts.
Like the room collectively notices.
Lila’s head turns first.
Then mine.
Logan walks in.
No suit today—just dark jeans and a fitted team jacket, hair slightly messy like he ran his hands through it too many times.
He looks tired.
Focused.
His gaze sweeps the room—
And lands on me.
My pulse stutters.
Lila’s mouth curves immediately.
“Oh,” she says, far too pleased.
I don’t move.
Logan starts walking toward us, slow and deliberate, like he’s stepping onto thin ice.
Lila leans in, voice dripping with amusement.
“Oh, speak of the devil,” she murmurs. “There he finally is.”
Logan stops a few feet away.
His eyes stay on me.
Not Lila.
Not the decorations.
Just me.
His voice is low.
“Harper.”
My chest tightens.
I don’t know if I want to yell at him…
or kiss him…
or run.
I lift my chin, forcing steadiness into my voice.
“Captain Shaw,” I say coolly. “Nice of you to join us.”
His jaw flexes.
Lila makes a soft sound like she’s watching a tennis match.
And the chaos of the auction hall suddenly feels like nothing compared to the chaos standing right in front of me