Harper stepped out of the library, her bag slung over her shoulder, exhaustion settling deep into her bones. The clock on her phone read 11:47 p.m. She should've gone straight to her dorm. Should've taken a shower, crawled into bed, and forced herself to forget about the way Logan Hayes had looked through her earlier like she didn't exist.
She took three steps.
Then stopped.
Her breath hitched, her chest tightening as the image replayed again—his cold eyes, his stiff posture, the way he'd walked past her like she was nothing.
That wasn't him.
Logan was reckless. Infuriating. Teasing to a fault. He didn't ignore people—especially not her. Not after everything. Not after the late nights, the fake smiles that turned real, the way his guard had slipped around her when he thought no one was watching.
Harper clenched her fists.
"No," she muttered to herself. "I'm not doing this."
But her feet had already turned in the opposite direction.
She was goi
