Chapter 70 Chapter 69
Harper POV
By the time my night class lets out, my brain feels like mush.
It’s one of those long, dry lectures where the professor thinks reading from slides counts as teaching, and all I can think about is the fact that the auction is next week, the final sponsor meeting is tomorrow, and my inbox has turned into a never-ending stream of “just one more small thing” emails.
I pack up slowly, tucking my notebook into my bag and slinging it over my shoulder.
Seven p.m. The sky outside the building is already dark, the air cooler, the campus quieter in that strange in-between way—too early for parties, too late for clubs.
I’m halfway down the steps when I hear someone say my name.
“Harper.”
I look up.
Cole is standing a few feet away, holding a folder and a coffee that looks like it’s been reheated at least twice. He looks… tired. Lab tired. The kind of tired that lives in your shoulders.
“Oh. Hey,” I say, forcing a small smile. “You’re still here?”
“Unfortunately,” he says, lifting the folder a little. “Had to finish up a lab report. It was either that or fail quietly.”
I snort despite myself. “Bold academic strategy.”
He smiles, then his expression softens a little, the joking ease shifting into something more careful.
“How are you doing?” he asks gently.
Not in the casual way people say it when they don’t want the real answer.
In the way that says he actually means it.
I hesitate for half a second.
Then I default to the safe answer. The easy one.
“I’m fine,” I say. “Just busy. You know. Auction’s next week, sponsor meeting tomorrow. My life is color-coded spreadsheets right now.”
He studies me for a moment, like he knows that’s not the whole truth but isn’t going to push.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I figured.”
There’s a pause.
Not awkward.
Just… full.
“Goodnight, Harper,” he says finally.
“Night, Cole.”
We head in opposite directions, and I don’t look back.
I don’t want to wonder what he’s thinking.
I have enough of that already.
⸻
The sorority house is lit up when I get back.
More than usual.
I frown as I walk up the steps.
The front door is open, voices spilling out into the night. Laughter. Talking. A lot of it.
That’s… odd.
It’s not a party night.
I push inside and stop.
Every single girl in the house is in the common room.
Every. Single. One.
They’re clustered on couches, sitting on the floor, leaning against walls, some perched on the arms of chairs. The TV is off. No music is playing.
This is not a hangout.
This is a meeting.
My meeting.
And I did not schedule it.
I step further in, and a few heads turn.
Then more.
Then pretty much all of them.
“What’s going on?” I ask, scanning the room. “Why does this look like a full house meeting?”
No one answers right away.
Which immediately sets off my internal alarm bells.
I move through the room, weaving between people, and that’s when I see Lila.
She’s standing at the front, arms crossed, looking way too calm.
And way too pleased with herself.
I stop in front of her.
“When did we schedule a sorority meeting?” I ask. “And why am I finding out about it by walking into it?”
A couple of girls glance between us.
Lila just smiles.
Slowly.
Dangerously.
“Oh, Harper,” she says sweetly. “You didn’t schedule this one.”
My stomach tightens. “Then why is it happening?”
She tilts her head, studying me like she’s deciding how much to say.
Then she says, very clearly:
“Because, my dear girl, this meeting is about you.”
The room goes very, very quiet.
“…About me?” I repeat.
“Yes.”
I blink. “Why?”
Her smile widens.
“And about a little operation,” she adds, “we’re calling Revenge on the Ice Gods.”
The room erupts into murmurs.
My heart drops straight into my stomach.
“What,” I say flatly, “does that mean?”
Lila just keeps smiling.
And I suddenly get the very strong feeling that I have absolutely no idea what my best friend just started.