Chapter 136 Chapter 135
Harper POV
I wake up slowly.
Not all at once.
Just… piece by piece.
Warmth first.
Then the steady rise and fall beneath my cheek.
Then the quiet.
No music.
No shouting.
No chaos.
And that’s what feels wrong.
Because nothing about last night was quiet.
My eyes flutter open.
And the first thing I see—
Is Logan.
I freeze.
Not because I’m surprised he’s here.
But because—
He’s still here.
I’m half on top of him, my head resting against his chest, his arm wrapped loosely around me like it stayed there sometime during the night and never moved.
For a second, I don’t breathe.
Because this?
This isn’t what Logan does.
He doesn’t stay.
He doesn’t linger.
He definitely doesn’t fall asleep with someone and still be there in the morning.
And yet—
Here he is.
Still holding me.
Still warm.
Still real.
My heart starts beating a little faster.
Because suddenly everything from last night comes rushing back.
The courtyard.
The way he looked at me.
The way everything between us finally snapped.
The way I didn’t stop him.
Didn’t want to.
My cheeks heat slightly.
Okay.
So maybe I should move.
Just… gently.
Carefully.
Before this gets weird.
I shift slightly, trying to slide out from under his arm without waking him.
Bad idea.
Logan tightens his arm instinctively, pulling me closer instead.
My breath catches.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.
I freeze.
“You’re awake?”
“Barely.”
I tilt my head slightly to look at him.
His eyes are still closed, his hair a mess, his voice lower than usual.
And somehow—
That makes everything worse.
“I was just—”
“Trying to escape?”
His lips twitch slightly.
“I wasn’t escaping.”
“Sure.”
I roll my eyes.
“You don’t get to accuse me of running. That’s your thing.”
That makes his eyes open.
Slowly.
And for a second—
We just look at each other.
No teasing.
No sarcasm.
Just… looking.
And something shifts again.
Softer this time.
“You’re still here,” I say quietly.
His brow furrows slightly.
“So are you.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
I hesitate.
Because saying it out loud feels dangerous.
“You don’t stay,” I say.
Not accusing.
Just honest.
His expression changes slightly.
Something thoughtful.
Something heavier.
“I stayed,” he says.
Simple.
Like that should be enough.
And maybe it is.
Because my chest tightens a little.
“Yeah,” I admit softly.
“You did.”
Silence settles between us again.
But it’s not awkward.
It’s… full.
Logan’s thumb starts tracing slow circles against my arm again, like he did last night.
Absent.
Unconscious.
And my body reacts immediately.
Annoyingly.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” I say.
“What?”
“That.”
His lips curve slightly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Liar.”
He huffs out a quiet laugh.
“Maybe a little.”
I shake my head, but I don’t move away.
Which is probably a mistake.
A big one.
Because the longer I stay like this—
The harder it’s going to be to pretend this didn’t matter.
And it mattered.
Way more than I want to admit.
“So,” I say, trying to sound normal, “this is new.”
“What is?”
“This whole… staying thing.”
He shifts slightly beneath me, his arm still wrapped around me.
“Yeah.”
“Are we pretending this is normal?”
His eyes flick back to mine.
“No.”
“Good.”
“Because it’s not.”
I let out a quiet breath.
“Okay.”
Another pause.
Then—
“Do you regret it?” I ask.
The question slips out before I can stop it.
And the second it’s out there—
I wish I could take it back.
Logan goes still.
Not pulling away.
Just… still.
Then his hand tightens slightly at my arm.
“No.”
The answer is immediate.
Firm.
Certain.
And it hits me harder than I expect.
“Do you?” he asks.
I shake my head quickly.
“No.”
Because I don’t.
Not even a little.
And that might be the scariest part.
His expression softens slightly.
“Good.”
We fall quiet again.
But this time it’s different.
More aware.
More real.
I shift slightly, propping myself up just enough to look down at him.
“You realize this complicates everything, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re just… okay with that?”
He studies me for a second.
Then says quietly,
“No.”
I blink.
“That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s honest.”
Fair.
Annoying.
But fair.
I sigh softly, running a hand through my hair.
“This is exactly what I didn’t want.”
“Same.”
I look at him.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Then why did you—”
I stop.
Because we both know the answer.
Because neither of us wanted to stop.
Logan smirks slightly.
“You going to finish that sentence?”
“No.”
“Thought so.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling.
Which is a problem.
Because I shouldn’t be smiling.
Not when everything about this is complicated.
Not when I already know how this ends.
“I’m not going to be your distraction, Logan,” I say quietly.
The words come out softer than I expect.
But they land.
Hard.
His expression shifts instantly.
Serious.
“I didn’t say you were.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Harper—”
“You want to go pro,” I continue. “Your dad is already breathing down your neck. Scouts are watching you. You don’t get to mess that up because of me.”
His jaw tightens slightly.
“That’s not what this is.”
“Then what is it?”
The question hangs between us.
Heavy.
Real.
And for once—
Logan doesn’t have an easy answer.
“I don’t know,” he admits.
And somehow that feels more honest than anything else he could’ve said.
I nod slowly.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
Another quiet moment passes.
Then Logan reaches up, brushing a strand of hair away from my face.
The gesture is soft.
Careful.
And way too intimate.
“You’re thinking too much,” he says.
“So are you.”
“Probably.”
I huff out a quiet laugh.
Then, before I can overthink it—
I lean down and kiss him.
Soft.
Slow.
Different from last night.
Less urgency.
More… something else.
Logan responds instantly, his hand sliding to my waist again, pulling me closer.
And for a moment—
Everything else fades.
The pressure.
The expectations.
The reality waiting outside this room.
It all disappears.
Just like it did last night.
When we finally pull back, Logan doesn’t move away.
Instead, he studies me for a second.
“I’ve got a game today,” he says.
I blink.
“That soon?”
“Yeah.”
I shift slightly, propping myself up more.
“You don’t seem stressed.”
He smirks faintly.
“Maybe I’ve got a new strategy.”
“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow.
“You coming to the game.”
I laugh softly.
“Why?”
“Be my lucky charm.”
“Lucky charm?” I repeat, amused.
He grins.
“Well… I got lucky last night.”
I stare at him—
Then laugh.
“Wow.”
“What?”
“That was terrible.”
“It worked.”
I shake my head, still smiling.
“Barely.”
“But you’re still here.”
I roll my eyes.
“Fine. I’ll come.”
“Good.”
“But don’t think I’m actually a lucky charm.”
“I’m willing to test it.”
I shake my head again, but I can’t stop smiling.
And that’s the problem.
Because this—
This feels easy.
Too easy.
And I already know—
Easy doesn’t last with Logan Shaw.