Chapter 50 Chapter 49
10/70
Logan POV
The worst part is that I don’t know what I broke.
I just know it’s broken.
Harper won’t look at me.
Not in the hallway. Not in the student union. Not when we’re in the same room pretending we’re not in the same room. She’s perfected this new talent where she can look straight through me like I’m a badly placed piece of furniture.
Which is… impressive.
And infuriating.
And somehow worse than her yelling at me would be.
I tell myself it’s fine.
I tell myself this is what I wanted—clean lines, clear distance, no complications.
I tell myself I’m relieved.
I’m lying.
I haven’t slept right in days. My practices are still shit. Coach is watching me like he’s deciding whether to murder me or bench me, and honestly, either one feels deserved.
I spot Harper outside the student center on my way to class.
She’s with Lila and two other Alpha Chi girls, holding an iced coffee, laughing at something someone said.
She looks… normal.
Like she didn’t unravel my entire brain and then decide I’m not worth the follow-up conversation.
Something tightens in my chest.
I hesitate.
Then I do what I always do when I don’t want to think too hard: I walk straight toward the problem.
“Harper.”
She freezes for half a second before turning around.
Her smile is gone instantly.
“What?” she asks, flat and careful.
The others exchange looks.
“I need to talk to you.”
She shifts her weight. “About?”
“About… us.”
“There is no ‘us,’” she says immediately.
The words shouldn’t hit that hard.
They do.
“Okay,” I say, trying for calm. “About what happened.”
Lila’s eyes narrow slightly.
Harper folds her arms. “I’m on my way to a meeting.”
“So am I,” I lie. “We can walk.”
She looks at me like she’s deciding whether it’s worth the energy to fight me in public.
“Five minutes,” she says finally. “Then I’m gone.”
The others drift ahead, very obviously pretending not to listen.
We walk in silence for a few steps.
“This doesn’t have to be weird,” I say.
She lets out a short laugh. “Oh, Logan. That ship didn’t just sail. It caught fire and sank.”
“I’m serious.”
“That’s the problem.”
I frown. “What does that mean?”
She stops walking and turns to face me fully. “What exactly are you trying to fix here?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Things just… got complicated.”
“They didn’t,” she says. “You made them complicated.”
“That’s not fair.”
She stares at me. “You slept with me. Then you started acting like I’m a scheduling conflict.”
“I didn’t—”
“You did,” she cuts in. “You went cold. You went distant. You went weird.”
We start walking again.
“I’m just… trying to keep things normal.”
Her laugh this time is sharper. “We had sex, Logan. There is no ‘normal.’”
My jaw tightens. “It didn’t have to mean anything.”
She stops again.
Slowly turns.
“Wow.”
“That’s not what I—”
“Do you have any idea,” she says quietly, “how insulting that is?”
I run a hand through my hair. “I’m just saying it doesn’t have to turn into a whole… thing.”
She looks at me like she might actually scream.
“So I was just… what? A stress reliever?”
“No.”
“A mistake?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
I open my mouth.
Nothing comes out.
Her face hardens.
“There it is,” she says. “That silence? That’s your answer.”
“That’s not fair,” I repeat, but weaker this time.
She shakes her head. “You don’t get to sleep with me and then act like I’m some optional side quest in your life.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Then what are you doing?” she demands.
I don’t know how to say: I’m scared.
I don’t know how to say: You got under my skin and now I don’t know how to get you out.
I don’t know how to say: You don’t fit into the version of my life I built, and that terrifies me.
So instead I say the stupidest possible thing.
“Maybe we should just… keep it casual.”
She goes very, very still.
“Casual,” she repeats.
“Yeah. No pressure. No expectations. Just—”
She laughs once. Not amused. Not light.
“Absolutely not.”
“Harper—”
“No.” She stops walking completely. “I am not built for ‘casual.’ And I’m not interested in being someone’s secret or convenience or backup plan.”
“You wouldn’t be.”
“That’s exactly what you’re offering.”
I clench my jaw. “You’re overreacting.”
Her eyes flash. “And you’re under-feeling.”
We stand there, staring at each other like we’re on opposite sides of a fault line.
“I thought,” she says quietly, “that maybe it meant something to you. Even a little.”
“It did,” I say automatically.
She looks up at me. “Then why does it feel like you’re trying to erase it?”
Because if I don’t, it changes everything.
I don’t say that.
“I’m just trying to keep things from getting messy,” I say instead.
She nods slowly. “Too late.”
We reach the building where her meeting is.
She stops at the door.
“Let me make this really clear,” she says.