Chapter 73 Chapter 72
Lila POV
Harper sits on the edge of her bed like the room might tilt if she leans too far in any direction.
She’s been like that all day.
Careful. Tightly held together. Smiling when she doesn’t mean it.
I close the door behind me and lean against it, arms crossed, watching her pretend to organize a stack of papers that don’t need organizing.
Finally, she sighs.
“Okay,” she says. “I need you to explain something to me.”
I arch a brow. “Only one thing? That’s progress.”
She shoots me a look. “Why did you do this?”
I don’t pretend not to understand.
“Why did you organize this?” she continues. “Why did everyone agree so fast? This is… big, Lila. This is half the campus.”
I push off the door and walk farther into the room, perching on the edge of her desk.
“Because,” I say simply, “what you’re going through isn’t new.”
She frowns. “That’s not—”
“It is,” I interrupt gently. “It just feels new when it’s happening to you.”
She looks down at her hands.
I soften my voice.
“Harper… men do this stupid shit all the time.”
She glances up.
“They get close. They say the right things. They act like you matter. Then they get scared, or bored, or distracted, or they just decide they don’t want to deal with the emotional part anymore.”
I shrug. “So they disappear. Or they freeze you out. Or they act like nothing happened.”
Her jaw tightens.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “Exactly.”
I swing my legs slightly, thinking.
“Look, I’m not saying all guys are like this. They’re not. But a lot of them—especially athletes—”
“Hockey and football,” she mutters.
I snort. “Bingo.”
She looks at me again. “But that doesn’t explain why everyone else agreed.”
I meet her eyes.
“Because we’re tired.”
She blinks.
“Tired of being the ‘fun girl.’ The ‘chill girl.’ The ‘no big deal’ girl. Tired of pretending it doesn’t sting when someone treats you like you were just… a moment.”
I pause.
“Tired of getting used.”
Her throat moves like she swallowed something hard.
“And yeah,” I continue, “maybe we are emotional. Maybe we do get attached sometimes. That’s not a flaw, by the way. That’s called being human.”
She gives a weak smile.
“And yeah, for a lot of guys, sex is just physical,” I say. “It’s not tied to feelings. Not to promises. Not to meaning.”
I hold her gaze.
“But when you mix that with someone who does feel? Someone who does care? Someone who’s been quietly hoping for more?”
I shake my head. “That’s how people get hurt.”
She looks away.
I let the silence sit for a second before continuing.
“We’ve all been there. At least once. The guy who texts at midnight but never in daylight. The guy who acts like you’re special until he gets what he wants. The guy who makes you feel chosen and then makes you feel stupid for believing him.”
Her shoulders sag just a little.
“And the hockey guys?” I add. “They’re… serial offenders.”
She snorts despite herself.
“They’re not evil,” I say. “But they’re careless. And they don’t get consequences.”
I lean forward.
“So for once? We decided maybe they should know what it feels like.”
She looks back at me, conflicted. “This feels… mean.”
“No,” I say gently. “It’s boundaries.”
She exhales.
“It’s not about punishing anyone. It’s about reminding them that we’re not disposable.”
She studies me. “And this is because of Logan.”
I tilt my head. “This is because of patterns.”
Then I soften. “But yes. You were the spark.”
She laughs weakly. “Great. I started a feminist uprising by sleeping with the wrong guy.”
I smile sadly. “You didn’t start this. You just made it visible.”
She’s quiet for a long moment.
Then she says, “What if this makes things worse?”
“Then it was already broken,” I reply.
She looks at me again. “And if he gets mad?”
I shrug. “Then he can sit with that.”
She bites her lip. “I didn’t want a war.”
I reach over and squeeze her hand.
“This isn’t a war,” I say. “It’s a pause.”
She looks at me, searching.
“And honestly?” I add. “If three days of being ignored breaks them, maybe that tells us everything we need to know.”
She lets out a slow breath.
“Lila…”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
I smile. “Always.”
I stand and head for the door, then stop.
“Oh,” I add casually, “and Harper?”
“Yeah?”
“This wasn’t hard to organize.”
She frowns. “What do you mean?”
I open the door and glance back at her.
“It’s amazing how many girls already had a reason to say yes.”
Then I leave her sitting there with that.
And a campus full of very confused hockey players.