Chapter 106 Chapter 105
Harper POV
I make it through exactly half of my morning before my phone becomes a problem.
Not because it rings.
Not because it buzzes.
Because it doesn’t.
The silence is worse.
I sit in the second row of my lecture hall, notebook open, pen moving across the page in neat, practiced strokes. I write down terms. I underline definitions. I nod at the right moments like I’m absorbing any of it.
I’m not.
All I can think about is the fact that Logan Shaw woke up in my bed.
And I left him there.
God.
What kind of person does that?
The kind who panics, apparently.
The kind who wakes up with someone’s arm around her waist and suddenly realizes she is standing too close to the edge of something that could actually matter.
The kind who doesn’t trust hot-and-cold men with sharp mouths and haunted eyes.
My phone sits face-up beside my notebook.
Blank.
No messages.
No name lighting up the screen.
A part of me is relieved.
Another part of me feels stupid for being relieved.
Because what was I expecting?
Logan doesn’t chase.
Logan doesn’t explain.
Logan doesn’t wake up and send sweet texts like good morning.
Logan wakes up and disappears.
That’s what he does.
Except this time…
I disappeared first.
The thought makes my stomach twist.
Class ends in a scrape of chairs and a rush of voices. I pack my bag quickly and walk out into the hallway, trying to shake off the restless energy under my skin.
I tell myself I did the right thing.
I needed space.
I needed air.
I needed to stop my brain from convincing me that warmth equals safety.
Still, the guilt sits heavy.
I keep seeing him asleep, face softer than I’ve ever seen it, like for once he wasn’t braced for impact.
I wonder what he looked like when he woke up alone.
I wonder if he cared.
I wonder if he even noticed.
My phone stays silent all the way back to the sorority house.
The second I step into the kitchen, I know something is wrong.
Lila is leaning against the counter with a mug, eyebrows raised like she’s been waiting.
She doesn’t even say hello.
She just takes one slow sip of coffee and goes—
“So,” she says casually, “care to explain why Logan Shaw was seen leaving your room this morning?”
I stop so fast my bag strap slips down my shoulder.
“What?”
Lila’s mouth twitches. “Oh, don’t play dumb. We have windows. And eyes. And a group chat that moves faster than the speed of light.”
My face goes hot instantly.
“He wasn’t—”
“Harper,” she interrupts, delighted, “I’m not judging. I’m just curious. Like… did he get lost? Was he delivering a package? Did he wander upstairs like a confused golden retriever?”
I groan. “Lila.”
She grins wider. “Because last I checked, Mr. Emotional Constipation doesn’t do sleepovers.”
I drop my bag onto the nearest chair, dragging a hand over my face.
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Oh my God,” she says, eyes sparkling. “It was totally like that.”
“No,” I insist, voice sharper. “It wasn’t.”
Lila pauses, actually listening now.
Then she tilts her head. “Okay. Then what was it like?”
I exhale.
I don’t know how to explain it.
It was kissing.
It was heat.
It was him showing up at my door like he couldn’t breathe without answers.
It was too much and not enough all at once.
“I panicked,” I admit quietly.
Lila’s expression softens a fraction. “You panicked?”
“I woke up,” I say, words spilling out now, “and he was there. In my bed. And it was… intimate in this weird way that wasn’t even about sex.”
Lila blinks. “Wait. You didn’t—”
“No,” I cut in quickly. “We didn’t.”
She looks almost offended on my behalf. “Men are exhausting.”
I huff a laugh despite myself.
“And then I just—left,” I finish.
Lila’s brows lift. “You left him?”
“Yes.”
“Harper!”
“I know!”
I press my hands to my face. “I know. I’m aware. It was insane.”
Lila studies me. “Why did you leave?”
Because it felt real.
Because it felt safe for half a second.
Because Logan Shaw does not do safe.
Because he makes me want things I can’t afford to want.
“I didn’t know what it meant,” I say finally.
Lila nods slowly. “Ah. There it is.”
I shake my head, frustration burning.
“My phone hasn’t even buzzed,” I mutter. “Nothing. No text. No explanation. Just… silence.”
Lila opens her mouth—
And right on cue, my phone lights up.
My breath catches so sharply it feels like I’ve been punched.
Logan.
Just his name.
Nothing else yet.
My thumb hovers, frozen.
Then the message appears.
Logan: You left.
Two words.
No emoji.
No softness.
Just fact.
My heart starts pounding.
I stare at the screen like it might change.
Another bubble appears.
Logan: Are you okay?
That one lands differently.
Not accusation.
Concern.
It makes my throat tighten.
I swallow hard, fingers trembling slightly as I type.
Me: I’m fine.
The lie looks pathetic even to me.
Three dots appear immediately.
Logan: Don’t do that.
My chest twists.
Me: Don’t do what?
A pause.
Then:
Logan: Pretend you’re fine.
Lila leans in, reading over my shoulder like she has no boundaries.
“Oh,” she whispers. “He cares.”
“Shut up,” I hiss, but my voice shakes.
I type anyway.
Me: I didn’t know what to do.
The response comes slower this time.
Like he’s thinking.
Logan: You could’ve stayed.
My breath catches.
Heat flashes behind my eyes.
Me: And then what, Logan?
I type faster now, the dam cracking.
Me: We wake up like something normal happened? Like you don’t disappear after? Like you don’t act like I’m a mistake the second it’s daylight?
The three dots stop.
Start.
Stop again.
A long pause.
Then:
Logan: I didn’t think you were a mistake.
I let out a shaky laugh.
Me: You don’t have to think it. You act like it.
Silence.
Then:
Logan: I’m trying.
The words are simple.
Almost unbearable.
I blink hard.
Me: Trying what?
His answer comes after another pause.
Logan: Trying not to screw this up.
My heart stutters.
Because that means it matters.
I stare down at my phone until the screen dims again.
When I don’t respond right away, another message comes through.
Shorter.
Rougher.
Honest.
Logan: I woke up and you were gone and I didn’t like it.
My breath catches.
My hands curl around the phone like it’s something fragile.
Finally, I type the truth I’ve been avoiding.
Me: You make my head a mess.
The reply is immediate.
Logan: Good.
I blink.
Logan: Because you’re in mine too.
Lila makes a sound like she’s watching a rom-com climax.
“Oh my God,” she whispers. “You’re doomed.”
I close my eyes.
Maybe I am.
Because whatever this is—
It’s no longer something I can pretend doesn’t matter.
Not when he’s finally texting me back.
Not when I’m finally answering.
Not when the auction is five days away.
And neither of us is ready.