Chapter 120 Chapter 119
Harper pov
I tell myself I don’t care.
I tell myself it shouldn’t matter.
This is literally the event. The entire point. Logan is on the list. People are going to bid. That’s what happens.
But my chest doesn’t listen to logic.
I stand near the side of the stage with Lila, pretending to focus on the clipboard in my hands, pretending I’m still the organizer and not the girl who just got bought for five thousand dollars by the hockey captain who kissed her in a hallway last night.
My pulse is still too loud.
Then the emcee’s voice booms again.
“All right, ladies and gentlemen… next up, one of our own campus stars. Captain of the hockey team, a future pro prospect, and clearly a man who knows how to make an entrance…”
Laughter ripples through the crowd.
My stomach twists.
“Please welcome… Logan Shaw!”
The room erupts.
Cheers. Whistles. Clapping.
Of course it does.
Logan steps onto the stage like he belongs there.
Tall. Controlled. That same effortless confidence that makes people believe he was born for spotlights.
But I can see it.
The tension in his shoulders.
The way his eyes flick briefly toward the side curtain.
Toward me.
Like he’s checking.
Like he needs to know I’m still here.
My breath catches.
Then the emcee grins.
“Bidding starts at one thousand!”
A paddle shoots up immediately.
“One thousand!”
Another.
“Twelve hundred!”
The numbers climb fast.
My fingers tighten around the clipboard.
I shouldn’t be watching this.
I shouldn’t feel anything.
But then I see them.
Girls.
Not donors.
Not alumni.
Not boosters with too much money.
Girls our age.
Students.
Sorority girls.
Pretty, laughing, excited.
One of them waves her paddle like it’s a joke, cheeks flushed.
“Two thousand!”
Her friends squeal.
Logan’s jaw tightens slightly.
He keeps his expression neutral, but I know him well enough now to see the strain underneath.
And something sour twists in my stomach.
Because it’s not just money.
It’s not just charity.
It’s the idea.
The reality.
That these girls aren’t bidding for optics.
They’re bidding because they want him.
Because Logan Shaw is the kind of guy people want.
The kind of guy who has never had to wonder if he’s desirable.
Another paddle lifts.
A brunette in a tight dress near the front row laughs as she calls out—
“Twenty-five hundred!”
Her voice is playful.
Flirtatious.
Like she’s already imagining what she bought.
My throat goes tight.
Lila leans in, murmuring, “Okay, breathe.”
I don’t.
My eyes stay locked on the stage.
On Logan.
On the way he stands there, hands at his sides, posture perfect, like he’s a statue carved out of control.
But I can’t stop thinking—
He chose me.
Five thousand dollars.
In front of everyone.
And now he’s up there like he belongs to the room again.
Like he’s still available.
Like he’s still Logan Shaw.
A paddle lifts again.
“Three thousand!”
The crowd murmurs.
A blonde giggles, elbowing her friend.
“Oh my God, imagine him taking you out.”
My stomach turns.
Heat crawls up my neck.
This is ridiculous.
I’m being ridiculous.
I don’t own him.
I don’t have a right.
And yet…
I hate it.
I hate hearing them laugh.
I hate seeing them look at him like he’s something fun.
Like he’s not complicated.
Like he’s not… him.
Logan’s gaze flickers again toward the curtain.
Toward me.
For half a second, his expression changes.
Something sharp.
Almost annoyed.
Almost…
possessive?
Then it’s gone.
The emcee laughs.
“Three thousand dollars! Do I hear thirty-five?”
A girl near the back raises her paddle confidently.
“Thirty-five!”
My chest tightens painfully.
Lila watches me out of the corner of her eye.
“Oh,” she murmurs. “Oh no.”
I tear my gaze away.
“What?” I snap too quickly.
Lila’s mouth twitches.
“You’re jealous.”
“I’m not.”
“You are,” she says, delighted. “Harper Lane. Jealous.”
“I am not jealous,” I hiss, mortified.
Lila’s eyes sparkle.
“This is amazing.”
“This is humiliating,” I mutter.
Lila leans closer, voice low.
“He literally just spent five thousand dollars to keep someone else from having you.”
My breath catches.
“And now you can’t handle the idea of someone else having him,” she finishes.
I glare at her.
She only grins wider.
“Welcome to the club, babe.”
My throat tightens.
Because the truth is…
Watching him up there, being wanted so easily—
It makes something ache inside me.
Not because I think he’s mine.
But because I don’t know what we are.
Because he chose me once, loudly.
And I don’t know if he’ll choose me again when it actually matters.
The emcee calls out—
“Four thousand!”
The room erupts.
Logan’s jaw clenches hard.
And I realize with a sick twist of my stomach—
I’m not the only one struggling to watch this.
Logan looks like he wants it over as badly as I do.
Like being wanted by everyone…
isn’t what he wants.
Not tonight.
Not after choosing me.
And that thought is the only thing that keeps me breathing.
Barely.