Chapter 19 Chapter 18
Harper POV
The sorority hallway hums with Friday-night life — curling irons sizzling, perfume clouds, girls laughing about outfits and heartbreak like neither can kill you.
It feels like background noise to someone else’s world.
My world is one heartbeat from ripping open.
I shove our room door closed too hard. The sound cracks through me like something breaking.
Lila looks up from her bed, legs crossed, laptop open, brow furrowing. “Whoa. That is the sound of a woman who has had a day. What happened?”
I don’t ease in. I don’t breathe. I go straight to detonation.
“Logan Shaw,” I spit out, “is the most infuriating, ego-drunk, oxygen-stealing disaster of a human being on this campus.”
Lila blinks. “Okay, wow. We’re coming in at, like, DEFCON One. What did the hockey menace do now?”
And that’s all the permission I need.
“He cornered me after class today. Accused me of dating Ryan Brooks. Like he has any right. Like I need his holy approval to talk to a guy in public.”
“What?”
“And — oh — apparently Ryan brushing a crumb off my jacket means we’re in some epic romance.”
“Shut up,” Lila whispers, eyes widening.
“I wish I was! He asked me who I was ‘getting close to’ like he’s— like he’s—”
You don’t get to be jealous.
The words burn through my throat all over again.
“And this came after Tyler opened his slimy mouth at the rink and told me Logan goes around saying I’ve been chasing him since high school. That it’s embarrassing. That everyone knows. That—” My voice fissures, heat flooding up my neck.
“That he knows I like him and thinks it’s pathetic.”
Silence hits the room like a dropped glass.
Lila’s jaw drops. “You’re kidding. Please tell me you’re kidding.”
My eyes burn. “I wish.”
“That little— I’m going to throw Tyler into a recycling bin and leave him there.”
A hysterical, broken laugh escapes me. “Please do.”
“What did you say to Logan?”
“I told him he thinks he gets to police my life while he’s out there treating the campus like his personal… buffet of puck bunnies.” My voice breaks again, too raw to stop. “He told me he didn’t want to picture me with someone like Ryan.”
Lila’s face twists. “I’m sorry — WHAT?!”
I mimic his deep voice, mocking and miserable. “I don’t want to picture you with someone like him.”
“How romantic,” she deadpans. “Nothing says ‘I care’ like policing who you’re allowed to laugh with.”
I throw my hands up. “Exactly! He doesn’t want me — but God forbid someone else could!”
My chest crushes inward like a closing fist.
“He wasn’t like this in high school. He was stupid and cocky and annoying — yes — but he wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t… whatever THIS version is.”
Lila sits up straighter. “Harper. Sit.”
“I don’t want to sit.”
“Sit.”
I drop onto my bed, shoulders shaking. I hate how close my tears are. I haven’t cried over him in years. Years.
“Okay,” Lila says softly. “Honesty hour. Do you… still like him?”
A painful, humiliating sound escapes me. “I don’t know. I did. For a long time. And maybe part of me still—”
Breath. Shake. Swallow.
“—still does. But it was always one-sided. Always.”
Her expression softens, but she doesn’t speak.
“He has a type,” I whisper. It hurts worse saying it aloud. “He chases Latina girls — confident, gorgeous, fiery. Girls who make rooms tilt around them. I mean… look at him.”
“Okay, but—”
“And look at me.” I gesture at myself like evidence. “I’m a philanthropy nerd with a Google calendar addiction. I plan philanthropy brunches for fun. I color-code grocery lists. I get excited about Canva templates.”
Lila opens her mouth, but I shake my head and keep going, the truth pouring too fast to dam up now.
“Do you know why I joined this sorority?”
She blinks. “Because you’re a natural leader. Because they wanted you.”
“No.” I laugh — sharp, self-mocking. “I joined because I wanted to become someone else.”
Her face falls.
“I’ve always been the quiet honor-roll girl. The yearbook committee girl. The one who gets asked for study guides, not phone numbers.”
My voice thins.
“I thought if I wore matching sweats and did lip gloss and threw mixers maybe I’d stop being invisible.”
“Harper—”
“I mean I am still a nerd,” I choke, tears edging hot behind my eyes. “I just… dressed her up in Greek letters and hoped nobody noticed.”
A tear slips. I swipe it away, angry.
“And none of it mattered. It doesn’t make a difference. I could get a spray tan, starve myself into a size two, buy a padded push-up bra, and it still wouldn’t make him look at me the way he looks at girls like— like them.”
Lila kneels in front of me, hands braced on my knees.
“Hey. Hey. Stop. That’s not fair to you.”
“It’s reality. He likes fire.”
Voice cracking.
“And I’m… a scented candle you buy at Target so your room smells like productivity.”
Lila snorts — a laugh fighting tears. “Okay, first of all, Target candles are elite.”
That earns her the ghost of a smile.
She softens. “And second — you didn’t join to become someone else. You joined so the world would finally see who you already were.”
My throat tightens so hard I can barely breathe.
“Lila…”
“You didn’t put on this sorority to hide. You put it on because you deserved to take up space. You weren’t trying to change — you were trying to be SEEN.”
And now I break.
My voice barely makes it out. “I’ve always been a blip to him.”
“Harper—”
“No. I have.” Tears fall, unstoppable now. “Do you remember that first mixed-gender party in middle school? The one where we played Seven Minutes in Heaven?”
Her eyes widen. “Oh my God — yes.”
“My name got pulled. His did too. We went into the closet and stood there frozen like awkward baby penguins for six minutes straight.”
Despite everything, Lila snorts.
“And then right before time ran out, he kissed me. Quick. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.”
I swallow hard.
“He only did it so people wouldn’t make fun of him.”
Lila’s face crumples. “Oh, honey—”
“He walked out like it never happened. And I walked out thinking… maybe if the world was different, maybe if I was different, that moment could have meant something.”
Silence. Crushing, aching silence.
“You know the worst part?” My voice is a whisper scraped raw. “That stupid kiss? It still meant something to me. And to him it was just… survival.”
Lila pulls me into a hug and I collapse, sobbing into her shoulder like I’m thirteen again with braces and hope and zero armor.
“You’re not a blip,” she murmurs. “He wasn’t capable of seeing you then. He’s not capable of seeing you now. That doesn’t mean you aren’t worth seeing.”
My laugh comes out shattered. “It hurts.”
“Of course it does.”
Her hand rubs slow circles on my back.
“You cared. That’s brave, not weak.”
“I don’t want to care anymore.”
“You won’t,” she promises. “Not forever.”
I clutch her like I’m drowning.
Because right now?
It feels like I never left that closet — stuck in the dark, holding hope alone while he walks away untouched.
And I don’t know how to shut it off.
Not yet.
But God, I want to try.