Harper Reed offered a polite smile to her professor, Ms. Agnes, who was going on about how impressive her calculus test results were despite all the recent scandals.
With a warm smile, Ms. Agnes rested her hand on Harper's shoulder. "You're such a bright girl, Ms. Reed—an inspiration to everyone here."
"Thank you, Ms. Agnes," Harper replied with a small nod. "I appreciate it."
"And," Ms. Agnes added with a faint chuckle, "it seems like you've gotten a lot more popular around here… for reasons beyond academics."
Harper's laugh was short, stiff. "Guess so."
"Your name's everywhere lately," Ms. Agnes went on, tilting her head. "And just so you know, even with all this… attention… you've still got people rooting for you."
Harper's smile was polite—mechanical, maybe. "Thanks. That means a lot."
"Yeah, sure. I'm one of them, too," she smiled warmly. There was a moment of silence.
"You know, between the grades and the… let's call it extracurricular attention," Ms. Agnes said, letting out a soft chuckle once more, "you've become the name on everyone's lips."
Harper's laugh was airy, but her eyes didn't match. "Lucky me."
Crossing to her desk, Ms. Agnes picked up an envelope and held it out. "As always, you've made both the dean and me proud, Harp. Keep it up."
Harper accepted it, nodding politely. "Of course. Thank you."
She turned to leave, and Ms. Agnes's eyes trailed after her until the door closed behind her.
Once Harper had stepped out of Ms. Agnes's office with the envelope still in her hand, she stared quietly at it. At first, she'd have been happy to do that well, but now, after the scandal and Logan and everything else, she wasn't that excited. She didn't open it. She didn't need to. She already knew what was inside—decent grades, nothing scandalous there. The scandal was elsewhere.
She took out her phone, holding the envelope up just enough to catch it in the camera. Snap. A single text to her father:
Harp:Got my results, Dad!!
She didn't expect him to reply right away—he was always busy, always buried in some meeting or lecture—but the bubbles appeared almost instantly.
Dad:Grades are fine. But we need to talk.
Her stomach sank. She could already see where this was going. She tucked the envelope under her arm and walked towards the faculty wing, her mind dragging its feet even as her steps carried her forward.
He was standing by the open blinds in his office when she arrived, sunlight drawing sharp lines across his crisp shirt. Papers lay in neat stacks on his desk, but his attention wasn't on them. It was on her.
"Close the door," he said, not raising his voice but not exactly leaving room for argument.
She did.
"Sit."
She sat.
For a moment, he just looked at her—the way people do when they're deciding whether to scold or to beg you to make better choices.
"By the way, sweetie, I wanted to say thanks. For making me proud all the time, Harper." A weak smile followed.
"You're welcome, Dad," she said.
Alvin Reed nodded quietly before his whole expression shifted into a frown. Harper swallowed.
"But I might as well say… you're walking with trouble, Harper." His voice was steady, but it had that undercurrent she knew too well—disappointment wrapped in control.
She opened her mouth, but he didn't give her the chance.
"That boy. That kiss. It's everywhere. The students talk, the faculty whispers. And I…" He exhaled slowly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "All you seem to do is make things worse for yourself."
Harper's hands curled on her lap. She wanted to say it wasn't what it looked like. She wanted to say they were blowing things out of proportion. But she knew excuses were gasoline on his fire.
Instead, she said softly, "Logan's not what they think. He didn't… it wasn't…" She hesitated, then added with more force, "He was just helping me. It wasn't planned. It wasn't—"
"Helping you?" The corner of his mouth twitched in something that wasn't quite a smile. "Harp, there are a thousand ways to help someone without putting yourself in a position that makes you a target. You chose the one way that sets every eye on you."
Harper's lips parted, but she said nothing.
"Here you are, Harp, doing all the things I don't want you involved in…" A pause. "Partying, falling in love with someone who's clearly trouble, and kissing in the hallways of my gracious school."
An awkward chuckle escaped his lips. "The last one disgusts me so much."
Harper winced at his words, her heart racing.
She swallowed hard. "Then maybe I don't care if they're looking, Dad. All I'm trying to do is fix things. I'm so sorry."
His brows lifted slightly, but he didn't argue. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, studying her like he could peel away every layer until he found the truth. "You care more than you admit. That's why this will cost you."
The silence after his words stretched, thick and uneasy.
She got up before she could think better of it. He followed her movement with his eyes, probably expecting her to leave. But instead, she walked behind his chair and slipped her arms around his shoulders.
It was a hesitant hug at first, awkward given the weight between them, but then she rested her chin lightly on his shoulder. "I don't want to ruin anything," she said quietly. "I just… don't want to feel like I'm walking alone all the time."
He didn't answer right away. She could feel the slow, measured breath he took before placing his hand over hers. "You're not alone. Even when it feels that way."
She nodded against his shoulder, but inside, a different truth settled. He meant she had him. He didn't mean Logan. He didn't mean the rush of chaos and safety she felt when Logan was near.
And that was when it hit her—not in a sudden blow but in a quiet, spreading ache—she and Logan Hayes were never going to be a real thing. Not in this world. Not with this weight.