Chapter 95 Chapter 94
Harper POV
The truck idles in front of the house.
Neither of us moves.
The engine hum fills the silence, low and steady, like it’s trying to give us time we didn’t ask for but somehow need. The porch light is on, warm and familiar, the sorority house standing there like a checkpoint between this moment and the rest of my life.
I turn toward him.
“Logan,” I say.
He looks at me, eyebrows lifting slightly, like he’s bracing himself again. That look is becoming familiar. Too familiar.
“Fear,” I say quietly, choosing the words carefully, “can be the biggest enemy.”
He exhales slowly, like the sentence lands somewhere deep.
“I know,” he says.
“I don’t think you do,” I reply gently. “Not fully. I think you think fear keeps you sharp. Safe. Focused.”
His jaw tightens.
“But it also keeps you alone,” I add. “And I don’t think that’s what you actually want.”
He doesn’t argue.
He just nods once.
“Goodnight, Harper,” he says, voice low.
He leans in, clearly going for a hug.
It’s awkward at first—two people misjudging distance, bumping elbows slightly, both of us overthinking something that shouldn’t be complicated.
Then his arms settle around me.
And something shifts.
The hug lingers a second too long. His hand presses lightly against my back. I can feel the warmth of him through my jacket, the familiar solidity of his chest, the way my body remembers him even when my brain is trying to stay cautious.
I pull back just enough to look at him.
He’s already looking at me.
Too close.
Too quiet.
The air feels charged, like right before a storm breaks.
I don’t plan the kiss.
It just… happens.
Not rushed. Not desperate.
Soft. Certain.
The kind of kiss that says we both know this is real, even if we don’t know what to do with it yet.
For half a second, I think he’s going to deepen it.
I think I might let him.
Then he pulls back.
Just enough.
Breathing a little harder.
His forehead rests briefly against mine.
“Goodnight,” he says again, firmer this time. Controlled.
I nod, pulse buzzing everywhere.
“Goodnight, Logan.”
I open the door before either of us can change our minds.
As I walk up the steps, I can feel him watching me. I don’t turn around.
If I do, I won’t make it inside.
⸻
The house hits me all at once—noise, light, laughter spilling out of every room like nothing in the world is complicated.
My body is still in Logan’s truck.
Still in that moment where everything felt charged and unfinished.
I barely make it past the couch before Lila looks up and freezes.
She squints at me. “Don’t tell me he fucked up the date again.”
I let out a small laugh, more breath than sound. “Actually… no. He didn’t.”
Her brows knit together. “Okay. Then why do you look like you just walked out of an emotionally confusing indie film?”
I drop my bag on the chair and sink down next to her. “I don’t know why I have this face,” I admit. “It was a nice date. I liked being with him.”
She studies me. “But.”
I nod. “But there’s just… something. Something that keeps pulling us back.”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Because Logan doesn’t do relationships.”
I shake my head slowly. “No. That’s not it.”
She pauses. “It’s not?”
“I don’t think so,” I say. “I don’t know what it is. I just know it’s not that simple.”
Lila leans back, watching me carefully.
I stare at my hands, my pulse still too loud, my body still buzzing in that way that doesn’t lie.
There is no denying it, I think.
There is heat between us.
Real heat. The kind that doesn’t fade when you stop touching. The kind that makes silence feel heavy instead of empty.
And the worst part?
I like it.
I like the way he challenges me without meaning to. I like the way he looks at me like I matter and scares himself with it. I like the tension, the pull, the gravity between us that doesn’t seem to care what either of us wants.
Lila sighs, long and knowing. “You really like that goon, don’t you?”
I don’t answer right away.
I just sit there, listening to the house hum around us, feeling the truth press against my ribs.
“I don’t know,” I say softly. Then, quieter still, like I’m admitting it to myself more than her:
“I just know that I’ll never be his first choice.”
The words hang there.
Lila doesn’t joke this time.
She turns toward me fully. “That’s not something you should settle for.”
“I know,” I whisper.
But knowing something doesn’t stop it from hurting.
I lean back against the couch, staring at the ceiling, my heart still caught somewhere between a kiss that stopped and a future that feels just out of reach.
Because wanting someone is easy.
Wanting them when you already know where you fall on their list?
That’s the dangerous part.