Chapter 41 Chapter 40
Harper POV
The bar is louder than it has any right to be on a Friday night — loud enough that the floor vibrates under my boots when we walk in. Warm bodies crowd the front, and the smell of beer and fried food hits like a wall.
I’m immediately regretting this.
Kenzie practically shoves me through the doorway. “Relax, Harper, we’re here for school spirit!”
“Right,” Mia snorts behind me. “Spirit. Definitely not because a certain hockey captain might be here.”
Lila loops her arm around mine so I can’t escape. “You promised not to be boring.”
“I didn’t promise that,” I mumble.
But it doesn’t matter — because as soon as my eyes adjust to the dim lights, Lila gasps.
“Oh my God. I see Marco and Cole.”
Of course she does.
Of course.
Before I can even form a protest, she drags me across the bar, dodging two drunk freshmen and a couple making out aggressively against a pillar.
Cole spots us first, lifting his chin in a silent greeting, wearing that easy smile that somehow always makes me relax and tense at the same time.
Marco waves so enthusiastically he almost knocks his beer over. “Harper! Hey! Sit with us! We need some class at this table.”
Mia slides in immediately. Kenzie follows. Lila pushes me down into the seat beside her before I can run.
Great. Perfect. Fantastic.
Cole angles toward me. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Peer pressure,” I say.
“Good peer pressure,” Marco adds, grinning. “You should celebrate the win with us! Even if Logan abandoned us like a moody grandma.”
My heart stutters.
“Logan left?”
Cole shoots Marco a look like shut up, but Marco never shuts up.
“Yeah, dude dipped like ten minutes ago,” he says. “Didn’t even finish his drink.”
Zack approaches with a beer and hears the last part. “Home,” he confirms. “Captain Grumpy stormed out early. Again.”
Lila smirks and nudges me. “Interesting.”
“It’s not interesting,” I say quickly.
Zack shrugs. “Cole calls him the moody broody captain now.”
“He is broody,” Marco laughs. “Big time. And all ’cause of you.”
My breath catches. “Me?”
Cole answers before Marco can say something worse. “He’s been… off. And it started right around when you started… interacting.” He gestures vaguely between us.
“Interacting?” I repeat, deadpan.
Marco snorts beer through his nose. “Harper, honey, that man has been acting loco. And not his usual ‘hot girl in a tight dress’ loco — I mean full-on confused puppy loco.”
Lila chokes on her cocktail. “Logan Shaw? A confused puppy?”
Marco nods solemnly. “A big, angry, muscled, depressed puppy.”
Cole tries not to laugh. “Accurate.”
My head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton. “He… he went home? Alone?”
Zack raises his beer. “Yep. Didn’t want company. And that’s how you know something’s wrong. Normally you can’t peel girls off him.”
I try not to react.
Try to swallow the weird twist of satisfaction.
Try — and fail.
Cole’s eyes flick toward me, assessing. “Speaking of unusual moods…” His tone shifts, subtle. “You get roses earlier this week, Harper?”
My stomach drops.
Oh God. The flowers.
But they weren’t roses.
They were white tulips — a dozen of them, fresh, beautiful, delicate.
And I still don’t know who sent them.
I stiffen. “I… yes. I did.”
Marco leans in. “Logan send ’em?”
“No,” I say quickly. “Definitely not.”
Cole shrugs lightly, like the answer doesn’t surprise him at all. “White tulips are… interesting. Not common. Symbolic.”
My pulse jumps. “Symbolic of what?”
He takes a sip of his drink instead of answering. “Depends on who sent them.”
My eyes narrow. “Did you send them?”
Cole cups an ear dramatically. “Sorry, loud in here.”
“Cole.”
“Harper.”
I glare.
He smirks.
Zack breaks the tension. “Could’ve been a donor or a volunteer for the gala. People send weird gratitude gifts sometimes.”
“Maybe.”
But the tulips didn’t feel “weird” or “gratitude.”
They felt intentional.
Lila nudges me hard. “Why do you care who sent them? Hmm?”
“I don’t,” I lie.
Kenzie laughs. “You absolutely do.”
But underneath all the teasing, something else is building.
A pressure.
A pull.
Because Logan went home alone.
Because he left early.
Because he’s been acting strange for days — heated in the worst and best ways, angry in ways I feel in my bones, looking at me like I’m breaking him and he can’t decide whether he wants to stop it or lean in.
And I don’t know why.
I don’t know why he kissed me.
Why he apologized at three in the morning.
Why he’s suddenly everywhere I look — even when he’s not here at all.
I push back from the table, breath tight. “I’m going to the restroom.”
Lila eyes me. “You okay?”
“Yes,” I say too quickly. “Just water. Need… water.”
Mia lifts an eyebrow. “Your voice did a weird squeak thing.”
“I’m fine,” I insist.
But when I stand, my legs feel unsteady.
Not drunk.
Not dizzy.
Just pulled — by something I don’t have the courage to name.
I weave through the crowd, past the bar, past the line for the bathrooms.
But I don’t stop.
I walk right past the restroom door.
“Harper?” Lila calls faintly behind me, but the music swallows her voice.
I keep going.
Out through the front entrance.
Into the cold night air that shocks my lungs.
Because if Logan Shaw left this bar ten minutes ago — moody, broody, angry, alone — then I know exactly what’s happening.
And I hate that I know it.
Hate that I feel it.
Curiosity.
Concern.
Whatever this thing is between us that refuses to die, refuses to quiet, refuses to let me breathe normally.
I cross my arms against the cold and step onto the sidewalk.
The night feels endless. Quiet. Heavy.
I shouldn’t care.
I shouldn’t follow.
I shouldn’t want answers from a man who keeps giving me questions.
But my feet move anyway.
Down the street. Toward campus. Toward the direction of the Ice House.
Every breath feels too loud.
Why did he leave early?
Why didn’t he talk to me after the game?
Why is he suddenly jealous, unsettled, different?
Why did that kiss feel like it rewired something in me?
I stop at the corner, chest tight, heart pounding harder than it should for someone who’s just walking.
This is stupid.
So stupid.
He isn’t my type.
He isn’t consistent.
He isn’t stable.
He kissed me and let another girl touch him the very next night.
So why does it feel like he’s under my skin in ways I can’t shake?
I take another step toward the Ice House.
Another.
And then—
A voice behind me:
“Harper?”
I freeze.
Slowly, I turn.
Cole stands under the streetlight, jacket half-zipped, hair a little messed from the bar.
He looks like he followed me.
And from the way his expression shifts — from teasing to something gentler — I realize he did.
He steps closer. “You’re not heading to the bathroom.”
“No,” I whisper.
“Going after him?”
My throat tightens. “I don’t know.”
Cole studies me in silence, reading me with uncomfortable accuracy.
Then he nods, hands in his pockets. “Just… be careful, okay? Logan’s a good guy, but he’s a mess right now. And you’re not.”
“I feel like a mess,” I admit.
“You’re not,” he repeats softly. “You’re the only person in this situation actually thinking straight.”
“That’s terrifying.”
“Yeah,” he says gently. “But it’s also why he’s acting the way he is.”
I stare past him, down the street.
Cole sighs. “If you want him to chase you, he’ll chase you.”
A beat.
“But if you need answers?”
He nods toward the Ice House.
“You won’t get them sitting in a bar hoping he magically stops being an idiot.”
My chest squeezes.
I whisper, “Thanks.”
He smiles — small, sincere. “Go. I’ll cover for you before the girls assume you were kidnapped.”
I turn toward the street.
Start walking.
Not because I’m sure.
But because I need to know.
Because Logan Shaw is the one question I can’t outrun.
And tonight?
I might finally need the answer.