Chapter 74 Chapter 73
Harper POV
The shutdown is… subtle.
If you weren’t paying attention, you might not even notice it.
But I am.
I notice it when I walk into the sorority kitchen and there’s the usual noise, the usual chaos, the usual complaints about coffee and deadlines—but not a single conversation about who hooked up with who last night.
I notice it when I cross campus and the hockey guys are walking in clusters without their usual orbit of girls around them.
I notice it when Marco tries to flirt with a girl outside the library and she just smiles politely and keeps walking.
It’s not dramatic.
It’s not angry.
It’s just… different.
And weirdly coordinated.
The girls aren’t acting like they’re on strike.
They’re acting like they’re tired.
Tired of being convenient.
Tired of being the end-of-the-night option.
Tired of being something that happens instead of someone that’s chosen.
This isn’t about me.
I know that.
It just started near me.
I walk through the house and see Maya and Jess working on decor mockups for the gala, Tori arguing with a vendor on the phone, Nina sprawled on the couch reading.
Everything is normal.
No one is hovering.
No one is tiptoeing around me.
And I’m grateful for that.
I don’t want to be a project.
I just… happen to be the girl Logan Shaw slept with and then decided to pretend doesn’t exist.
That part still stings.
Not because of the sex.
I don’t regret that.
I wanted him.
I chose him.
Twice.
What I hate is this—how he can look straight through me in the hallway like I’m a scheduling inconvenience instead of a person.
Like I only exist when he’s in the mood.
That’s the part that makes me feel small.
And angry.
And, if I’m being honest, stupid.
Because I knew how he was.
I just didn’t think he’d be like that with me.
I head to class and sit through an entire lecture I barely absorb, my notes neat and precise while my thoughts go in circles.
They say sex changes things.
It did.
Just not in the way people pretend it does in movies.
It didn’t make us closer.
It made the distance louder.
When class ends, I pack up and head across campus.
That’s when I see them.
Lila and Cole.
They’re standing near the steps by the science building, both of them holding coffee, both of them looking… relaxed.
Laughing.
Which is strange enough on its own.
Lila doesn’t laugh easily when she’s plotting.
And Cole usually looks like he’s calculating three things at once.
I slow without meaning to.
I’m not trying to eavesdrop.
I just… hear.
“…I’m telling you,” Cole says, amused. “Logan definitely needs a lesson. The man’s got everything boxed up so tight he doesn’t even know what’s in there anymore.”
Lila snorts. “That’s one way to put it.”
“He’s great at pretending he doesn’t feel anything,” Cole continues. “But it’s all in there. He just refuses to open the damn box.”
They both laugh.
Not cruelly.
Not mean.
Like two people who have already decided something.
My stomach tightens.
A lesson?
What kind of lesson?
And why does it sound like Logan is the main character in it?
I keep walking before they see me.
But my brain doesn’t let it go.
What does that mean?
Back at the house, the energy is steady. Focused. The girls are getting things done. No drama. No chaos. Just… boundaries.
I respect that.
I also wonder if it’ll work.
Guys like Logan don’t usually learn lessons.
They just… wait things out.
And part of me hates that I still care enough to wonder.
Later, when I see him across campus—laughing with Marco, completely at ease like nothing is wrong—I feel that familiar twist in my chest.
He doesn’t look at me.
Doesn’t hesitate.
Doesn’t even flinch.
And I think:
So that’s it.
I was a moment.
A release.
A convenient decision.
I don’t regret sleeping with him.
I regret that he’s making me feel like it didn’t matter.
That’s the part I don’t know how to swallow.
That night, lying in bed, I stare at the ceiling and think about what Cole said.
About boxes.
About lessons.
About how some people don’t open things unless they’re forced.
I don’t know what Lila is planning.
I don’t know if this whole shutdown will change anything.
But something is clearly in motion.
And for the first time, I’m not sure whether I want Logan to notice…
Or whether I want him to finally feel what it’s like to be ignored.