The morning rushed past her in a blur — her alarm had failed, her hair refused to cooperate, and now Harper was jogging across campus with her bag slipping off her shoulder. Breathless, she skidded to a halt at the parking lot.
And froze.
Logan was there.
Leaning casually against his motorcycle like a scene pulled straight out of a glossy magazine cover. Leather jacket, sun catching in his hair, expression unreadable. Students walked past him pretending not to stare, though every pair of eyes darted his way at least once.
Harper's chest tightened. For a second, she just… watched. The easy way he stood, the way the corner of his mouth curved faintly as if he knew the whole world was watching him. At first, she'd get irritated by that action — but no. She didn't. Her stomach flipped, painful and stupid, because she remembered: it's not real. Not the kiss, not the pull in her chest. Nothing.
She swallowed hard, forcing her legs to move.
"Hi." Her voice came out brighter than she felt, a smile plastered onto her lips like armour.
Logan's eyes flicked to her. He didn't move at first, didn't even blink, then finally — he mirrored her smile, though his felt just as practised. "Hey."
Loose, baggy jeans, a plain top that somehow still looked good on her, and her long dark hair falling freely around her face. Simple. Effortless. And annoyingly pretty.
The word lingered in the air, heavy.
For a moment, neither of them said anything else. The tension curled between them, sharp and undeniable.
Harper adjusted the strap of her bag, pretending she wasn't hyper-aware of his gaze. "You're early."
"And you're late." His reply was smooth, clipped, but his eyes didn't leave hers.
Her fake smile wavered, and she hated how much it mattered — how much he mattered — when he wasn't supposed to.
Quietly, she began walking away. She knew she didn't have to say anything, because he'd follow behind her. That was the deal they both agreed on.
Logan's shadow fell neatly beside hers as he caught up, his hands shoved casually into his pockets, the picture of effortless confidence. She didn't look at him, not once, no matter how heavy his presence pressed against her side.
"Cold shoulder?" he teased lightly, leaning just enough that she could feel his eyes on her.
Harper kept her gaze forward, lips pressed in a firm line. She didn't answer.
He let out a low chuckle, unfazed. "Guess silence counts as an answer."
Still, she walked on. Step after step, ignoring the way his voice tugged at her, ignoring the urge to glance up at him. Students' stares followed them, whispers filling their ears. Together, they looked too perfectly matched to be anything less than what people assumed.
By the time they reached the heart of the hallway, the air felt thicker than it should have. Harper's fingers tightened around her books as though grounding herself. Then, without looking at him, she slowed her pace and said softly, "I'm heading to class."
She turned, slipping away into the nearest hall without hesitation, her hair brushing against her shoulders as she walked off.
Logan stopped where he was, jaw tightening, eyes following her retreating figure. For once, he had nothing to say.
****
Harper was curled up in the library's corner seat, her baggy jeans folded neatly under the table, completely lost in the faded paperback clutched in her hands. When Light and Darkness Collide had its claws in her, and she barely noticed the world beyond the printed words.
Until a shadow cut across the page.
The faintest trace of cologne slid into her awareness, pulling her back to reality.
"Hmm," a voice broke the silence, low and cool. "Chapter thirty-four, huh?… Adrian kills Dominic."
Her head jerked up, eyes widening. "You didn't just—"
Damian stood over her, hands shoved into his pockets, his expression unreadable except for the ghost of a smirk tugging at his mouth.
"You spoiled it!" she hissed, snapping the book shut against her chest like she had to shield it.
His brow arched, eyes faintly amused. "If you couldn't see it coming, you're not paying attention. Adrian's been sharpening the knife since chapter twenty."
"That doesn't mean you get to ruin it for me," Harper shot back, heat in her voice.
Damian tilted his head slightly. "Funny. You sound more upset about this than half the things people say about you online."
Harper narrowed her eyes, lips pressing together. But she couldn't help it — her laughter slipped out in a soft burst. "You're impossible."
A flicker of something passed through his eyes. "Maybe. But at least I'm not Dominic."
"Oh?" She leaned forward, curiosity brightening her features. "So you see yourself as Adrian?"
His smirk deepened, cool and deliberate. "Why not? He's calculated. Keeps his emotions buried. Always wins, no matter who he has to cut down."
She giggled, shaking her head. "You forgot arrogant."
"Selective confidence," he corrected smoothly, gaze steady on hers. "And you? Let me guess — you think you're the tragic heroine, Anastasia, who keeps trying to fix everyone?"
Harper bit her lip, pretending to think. "Mm… more like the side character Mia, who minds her own business until chaos drags her in."
His expression didn't shift, but his eyes lingered — intense, like he was trying to read something deeper than the words. "Not even close."
Her breath caught, but before she could press him, her phone buzzed against the table, loud in the quiet.
She glanced at the screen, shoulders slumping. "I should go," she murmured, standing quickly and shoving the book into her bag.
Damian straightened, stepping just enough out of her path to let her through. "Running away before I spoil the rest?"
Harper glanced at him once, lips twitching despite herself. "More like before you turn everything into some dark metaphor."
She brushed past, her laughter trailing faintly in the air.
But before she could take another step, Damian's hand wrapped around her wrist. His grip was unyielding, steady, pulling her back until the world tilted, and her spine met the wall with a muted thud.
Her breath snagged in her throat. The library's faint hum faded, the air between them thickening. He was close — too close. His shadow fell over her, his cologne sharp and consuming, drowning out reason.
Her pulse hammered in her ears. She could feel the heat rushing up her neck, settling in her cheeks. Every nerve in her body screamed to move, to push him away, but her legs betrayed her, rooted to the spot.
"Damian—" her voice was a whisper, barely audible, trembling as if it too feared him.
His eyes held hers, unflinching, searching. There was no warmth in them, not like Logan's teasing glances. No, Damian's gaze was heavier, like he wanted to strip away every layer until there was nothing left to hide behind.
She tried to steady her breathing, but it came too fast, shallow, betraying her panic — and something else. That fluttering pull in her stomach, that infuriating awareness of how close he was.
Her thoughts raced, messy, colliding. Why was her chest tight? Why couldn't she just push him off? Why, in this dangerous closeness, did part of her lean toward him instead of away?
His hand stayed around her wrist, firm but not crushing, his thumb brushing lightly against her pulse point, as though he could feel how wild it was racing.
Her lips parted, desperate for words, excuses, anything to break the silence. But nothing came. Only the stuttering thunder of her heart.
Then, his voice cut through, low and deliberate, silk laced with steel.
"I just want you to spoil something for me this time…" His face inched closer, his breath warm against her skin. His eyes didn't waver. Harper Reed gulped hard.
"Do you like Logan Hayes?"