Chapter 111 Chapter 110
Harper POV
My lips are still burning when he pulls back.
The hallway feels too bright and too dim all at once, like my senses can’t decide what reality we’re in.
Logan’s hands are still on my waist.
Mine are still fisted in his jacket like I need something solid to keep me from floating away.
My chest rises and falls too fast.
My heart is a riot.
This was not supposed to happen.
Not tonight.
Not here.
Not with tomorrow hanging over us like a blade.
And yet…
I can still feel the desperation in the way he kissed me.
Not casual.
Not careless.
Not the kind of kiss you forget.
The kind of kiss that feels like an answer.
I swallow hard, trying to find my voice.
“This is…” My breath shakes. “This is insane.”
Logan’s eyes are dark, unreadable, like he’s trying to hold himself back by force.
“I know,” he says, rough.
I hate that he sounds like he means it.
I hate that it doesn’t stop him.
Or me.
I step back half a pace, forcing air into my lungs.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
His jaw flexes.
“I don’t know,” he admits.
That makes something sharp flare in my chest.
“Of course you don’t,” I snap softly. “You never know. You just show up when it’s convenient for your panic.”
His eyes flash.
“That’s not what this is.”
“Then what is it?” I demand, voice trembling. “Because you don’t get to act like you care only when someone else looks at me.”
His hands drop slowly, like he’s afraid of himself.
“I didn’t realize how bad it would feel,” he says quietly.
I laugh once, bitter. “Bad.”
He takes a step closer again.
“Seeing them talk about you like that—”
“You mean like you did?” I cut in.
His face stills.
“That’s not fair.”
“It is fair,” I say, my throat tight. “You don’t get to be jealous when you’re the one who made me feel like I was nothing in daylight.”
Silence.
The air hums between us.
Logan’s voice drops.
“You weren’t nothing.”
I look up at him, anger and something softer warring inside me.
“Then why did you treat me like it?”
His eyes flicker.
Pain.
Regret.
Something he doesn’t know how to name.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he says finally, like it costs him.
The honesty knocks the breath out of me.
I stare at him.
“You don’t know how to do what?”
He swallows.
“Want someone without it feeling like a weakness.”
My pulse stutters.
For a second, all the sharpness in me falters.
Because that sounds too much like truth.
And truth is dangerous.
I should step away.
I should put space between us.
Instead, my voice comes out smaller.
“You can’t keep doing this to me.”
His gaze locks on mine.
“I know.”
The way he says it is almost unbearable.
I shake my head, trying to hold onto anger because anger is safer than longing.
“Tomorrow,” I whisper, “people are going to bid.”
His jaw tightens.
“And you’re standing here acting like you want to stop it.”
His eyes burn.
“I do.”
I blink hard.
“You don’t get to stop it,” I say, voice cracking. “You don’t get to decide you want me when you’ve spent years acting like you don’t.”
Logan stills.
Years.
The word hangs between us like an accusation and a confession all at once.
His brow furrows. “Harper…”
But something in me breaks open before I can stop it.
“No,” I blurt, breath shaking. “Actually—do you want to know what’s insane?”
His eyes lock onto mine.
“I’ve always liked you, Logan.”
Silence.
My heart is pounding so hard it feels like it might split my ribs.
“Since middle school,” I whisper, the words spilling out too fast now, unstoppable. “Since bonfires and football games and watching you laugh with people like it was the easiest thing in the world.”
Logan looks like he can’t breathe.
“And you never saw me,” I continue, voice trembling. “Not really. You always ignored me.”
“That’s not—”
“It is,” I cut in sharply. “Because I wasn’t your type.”
His jaw tightens.
“I wasn’t the girl you chased after,” I say, bitterness rising. “I wasn’t the Latina you always had your arm around. I wasn’t the easy, effortless one.”
My throat burns.
“I’m not… that.”
I gesture helplessly at myself.
“I have curves. I’m not some perfect little cheerleader body. I’m real. I’m not skinny. I’ve got a little belly, and I’ve spent years pretending it didn’t matter because I was smart enough, strong enough, president enough—”
My voice cracks.
“But try being confused for years, Logan.”
His face shifts, something pained and fierce crossing it.
“I didn’t know,” he says hoarsely.
I laugh, sharp and broken. “Exactly. You didn’t know. You didn’t look.”
I step back half a pace, shaking.
“And now suddenly you’re standing here acting jealous, acting like you want me, acting like the idea of someone else touching me makes you crazy—”
My eyes shine.
“Welcome to the feeling.”
Logan’s hands twitch like he wants to reach for me but doesn’t know if he’s allowed.
His voice is rough.
“Harper… I see you.”
I swallow hard, breath unsteady.
“Do you?” I whisper. “Or are you just scared someone else will?”
The question slices the air.
And the truth is, I don’t know which answer would hurt more.
Logan steps closer, slowly, like he’s approaching something fragile.
“I’m scared,” he admits.
My breath catches.
“But not of them,” he says, voice low. “Of me.”
My pulse pounds.
“Of what you do to me,” he continues. “Of how long I’ve been running from it.”
The words hit like a confession.
My chest aches.
I hate him.
I want him.
I don’t know how both can be true.
My gaze drops to his mouth.
His breath catches, like he notices.
“Harper…” he murmurs, warning.
I should stop.
I don’t.
I step into him again, fingers curling into his jacket, and kiss him.
Not angry this time.
Not fighting.
Just… needing.
Logan’s arms wrap around me immediately, pulling me close like he’s been holding himself back for hours.
His mouth moves against mine with a heat that makes my knees go weak.
I gasp softly, the sound humiliating and honest.
His name escapes me without permission.
“Logan…”
He stills for half a second, like hearing it does something to him.
Then he kisses me deeper, and the world tilts.
My back presses against the wall.
His hand slides up my side, not crossing lines, but close enough that my skin sparks everywhere he touches.
I feel undone.
I feel wanted.
And it terrifies me.
Because wanting is easy.
Choosing is harder.
He pulls back just enough to breathe, forehead resting against mine.
His voice is rough.
“This is going to destroy my self-control.”
My breath shakes.
“Then stop,” I whisper.
He doesn’t.
Neither do I.
Tomorrow is coming.
The whole world is watching.
But right now, in this hallway, with his mouth on mine and my pulse screaming his name—
All I can think is that I don’t want to be anyone’s prize.
I want to be someone’s choice.
And Logan Shaw is standing too close for me to pretend I don’t care if he ever makes it.