Chapter 65 Chapter 64
Harper POV
I make it back to Alpha Chi without being seen by a single soul, which feels like a small miracle considering my nerves are doing a full Olympic routine.
The house is quiet in that early-morning way—too quiet, like everyone’s either still asleep or pretending to be.
Good.
I kick off my shoes, hang my coat, and head upstairs, telling myself I’m going to shower and reset and pretend I didn’t just sleep with Logan Shaw.
I make it exactly three steps into my room before—
“Oh.”
Lila’s voice.
Too calm.
Too knowing.
I freeze.
She’s sitting on my bed, legs crossed, coffee mug in hand, fully dressed, hair perfect.
She looks me up.
Then down.
Then back up again.
Slowly.
Dangerously.
“Oh,” she says again. “So that’s what that looks like.”
“What what looks like?” I ask, too fast.
“You,” she says. “After.”
“After what?”
She lifts one eyebrow.
I sigh and drop my bag.
“Okay, that’s not fair.”
“What’s not fair is that you left this house last night fully clothed, fully furious, and very determined to ‘just talk’… and now you’re walking back in like you lost a fight with gravity and won.”
“I did not—”
“You’re glowing.”
“I am not glowing.”
“You are radiating,” she says, standing and circling me like a detective. “Your hair is different. Your sweater is wrinkled. And you’re walking like your hips are filing a formal complaint.”
“Lila!”
She gasps. “Oh my God.”
I drop onto my bed and bury my face in my hands.
“Oh my God,” she whispers. “You slept with him.”
“I did not—” I stop. Then: “…okay, I did.”
She sits next to me. Slowly.
Like she’s afraid to scare the truth out of me.
“Harper.”
“I know.”
“With Logan.”
“I know.”
“You had sex with Logan Shaw.”
“I am very aware of the identity of the man involved, thank you.”
She stares at me for three full seconds.
Then she lets out a low, stunned laugh.
“Oh my God. The universe finally snapped.”
“This is not funny,” I groan.
“Oh, it’s not funny,” she says. “It’s historic.”
I peek at her. “You’re not mad?”
“Mad? No. I’m… concerned. Curious. Slightly terrified. And extremely invested.”
She leans in. “Was it… okay?”
My face goes nuclear.
“Lila!”
“That’s a yes.”
I fall back onto the bed. “I hate everything.”
She smiles. “You don’t.”
“I really do.”
She sobers a little and nudges my arm. “Okay. Talk to me. What happened?”
So I tell her.
Not every detail.
But enough.
About going to the Ice House.
About the yelling.
About the not-yelling.
About how it just… happened.
“And now?” she asks quietly.
“Now I woke up alone,” I say. “With a note that said ‘We’ll talk.’”
Her smile fades. “Ah.”
“Yeah.”
I hug a pillow to my chest. “I don’t know what that means.”
She studies me for a second, then says carefully, “Okay. I’m going to ask something, and you’re not allowed to lie to me.”
I look at her. “I already don’t like this.”
“Are you… okay with this being a FWB thing?”
My stomach drops. “What?”
“Harper,” she says gently, “you know how Logan is. He’s not exactly the relationship type. He’s the ‘one and done’ type. And now you’ve slept together twice.”
I swallow.
“It’s very possible,” she continues, “that in his head, this is just… that. Friends with benefits. No labels. No expectations.”
The words hurt more than I expect them to.
“I’m not built for that,” I say quietly.
“I know you’re not,” she says immediately. “That’s why I’m asking.”
I stare at the wall. “I don’t think I could survive being… convenient.”
She nods. “That’s what I was afraid you’d say.”
“And the worst part?” I whisper. “I don’t even know what he wants. He’s been acting weird. Distant. Like he doesn’t know what to do with me.”
“Which is very on-brand for emotionally unavailable hockey gods.”
I snort weakly.
She reaches for my hand. “Okay. Real question. Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I think I’m emotionally naked. And also a little humiliated.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know if I meant something. Or if I was just… there.”
She squeezes my fingers. “Do you regret it?”
I think about his hands. His voice. The way he said my name.
“No,” I say. “I’m just scared of what it means.”
She nods. “They say sex changes things.”
“It did,” I whisper. “For me.”
She looks at me carefully. “And you’re afraid it didn’t for him.”
“…Yes.”
She bumps her shoulder into mine. “Whatever happens, you didn’t imagine this. And you’re not wrong for wanting more than crumbs.”
I breathe out slowly.
“Now,” she says, standing. “Shower. Reset. Put your President armor back on.”
“And then?”
“And then,” she smirks, “you walk into campus like a woman who may or may not have completely wrecked a hockey captain’s emotional stability.”
“I did not—”
“Give it time.”