LOGINIvy
The dorm room was a mess of clothes and excitement when I got back from the library. Lena stood in front of the mirror, trying on different tops and humming to herself. “Where are you heading?” I asked, dropping my bag on my bed. “Sophomore party tonight at the old fraternity house off campus,” she said brightly. “It’s supposed to be fun — music, decent drinks, no freshmen rules. You should come with me.” I hesitated. The photos. Asher’s stupid deadline. The six hundred shots still waiting on my laptop. But the thought of sitting alone in this room, obsessing over his pictures and replaying every humiliating moment, felt worse. “Can I come?” I asked. Lena’s face lit up. “Yes! But what about the pictures you’re supposed to send Asher?” I shrugged. “They can wait till tomorrow. I need a break.” She didn’t argue. Twenty minutes later we were walking across campus toward the pulsing bass of the party. Inside, the house was crowded and warm, lights low, music loud. Lena stuck with me at first, introducing me to a few people and encouraging me to loosen up. “You’re a freshman, but don’t let anyone catch on. Just smile and dance like you belong.” After a while, she squeezed my arm. “My friends from last year are over there. I’ll come check on you in a bit, okay? Have fun!” And then she was gone, disappearing into the crowd. I stood near the edge of the main room, nursing a cup of soda, feeling out of place. A few minutes later, a guy with an easy smile and a backward cap approached. “Hey, you look like you could use some company. First time at one of these?” I wasn’t particularly interested at first, but he persisted, friendly and relaxed. Eventually I replied. He introduced himself as Marcus, a sophomore in sports. I gave him my name. He offered to get me a real drink. I refused at first. “Come on, just one. It’s nothing crazy,” he said with a grin. “Helps with the nerves.” I thought of Lena’s advice about not seeming like a scared freshman. This was my fresh start. One drink wouldn’t hurt. I took it. The taste was awful — bitter and sharp — but I hid the grimace behind a small smile. It was my first time drinking alcohol. I sipped slowly while we talked about classes, campus life, and nothing too deep. Marcus did most of the talking. He was funny, chill, completely unlike Asher’s cold intensity. He noticed my cup getting low. “Here, have a little more. Lena actually sent me over earlier to keep you company. You’re in safe hands, I promise.” I glanced across the room and saw Lena watching us. She waved with a big smile. I relaxed a little and took another sip. The warmth spreading through me made everything feel softer, lighter. Marcus really was nice. Easy to talk to. Then the air shifted. Asher walked in. He scanned the room and stopped the moment he saw me. Surprise flashed across his face, quickly replaced by that familiar smirk. He crossed the room, ignoring everyone else. “Well, well. Look who’s suddenly into parties now.” I lifted my chin. “Whatever I choose to do with my life is none of your business, Asher.” He shrugged. “Fair enough. Where are the pictures?” “They’re not ready,” I said flatly. “You’ll get them tomorrow.” Asher scoffed. “You really thought I was joking about the end of today?” I didn’t answer. The alcohol made me feel bolder than I probably should have. Marcus glanced between us. “You know this guy?” “No,” I said quickly. “Can we go somewhere else?” Marcus nodded, helping me up. The room tilted a little. I stumbled. He caught me smoothly, one arm around my waist, guiding my hand across his neck to steady me. Before I could react, Asher was there. His hand closed around my wrist, firm and unyielding, and he pulled me away from Marcus. “Hey—” Marcus started. I twisted my arm, trying to yank free. “Let go of me!” Asher’s grip only tightened, not painful but impossible to break as he kept pulling me through the crowd toward the exit. I dug my heels in, stumbling awkwardly in the borrowed shoes, but he didn’t slow down. “I said let go!” I hissed, using my other hand to pry at his fingers. He ignored me completely, jaw set, eyes locked forward. Marcus caught up fast, shoving through people behind us. “Dude, she said let her go. What the hell is your problem?” Asher barely glanced at him. “Mind your own business.” Marcus stepped in front of us, blocking the way. “She’s not going anywhere with you. Back off.” The tension snapped. Asher released my wrist and shoved Marcus hard in the chest, sending him stumbling back into a group of people. Drinks spilled. Someone cursed. Marcus recovered quickly and swung at Asher, landing a solid hit to his shoulder. Asher retaliated instantly — a sharp push followed by a punch that caught Marcus in the jaw. The fight exploded. They crashed into a side table, knocking over bottles and cups. People shouted and backed away, forming a loose circle. Marcus was taller but Asher was faster and clearly more used to physical confrontations. He grabbed Marcus by the shirt and drove him back against the wall. “Stop it!” I yelled, my head spinning from the alcohol and the chaos. “Both of you!” Security or someone from the frat was already pushing through the crowd toward the commotion. Asher landed one more hit before he stepped back, breathing hard, his eyes burning as they locked on me. Marcus wiped blood from his lip, glaring. “You’re crazy, man.” Asher didn’t answer him. He just stared at me for another beat. “Ivy—” That was all he managed. I wrenched my arm back with everything I had and slapped him hard across the face. The sharp crack echoed in the quiet. Asher’s head jerked to the side. For a long moment, he just stood there, stunned. Then slowly, he turned back to look at me. Shock, disappointment, and raw anger warred across his expression. “You really shouldn’t have done that,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You really shouldn’t have, Ivy.” He stared at me for another heavy second, rubbing his jaw, then turned and walked away into the night without another word. I stood there shaking, my palm stinging, heart hammering in my chest. Marcus came rushing out a moment later, looking concerned. “You okay?” I nodded numbly, but I wasn’t sure I was.JennieI stared at my phone for what felt like the hundredth time.Still nothing.I scrolled back to the message I’d sent Asher the previous night.Where are you? I’ve been looking all over for you. I thought I’d see you before heading back to school early tomorrow morning. Call me immediately when you get this.He hadn’t replied.Not even a single word.And that wasn’t all. He hadn’t come out to see me that morning either. I’d waited, hoping he’d show up before the team left, but he never did.Could he really be that tired?Perhaps he was still sleeping.I glanced towards the hotel entrance through the bus window, my fingers tightening around my phone.It wasn’t like Asher to ignore me completely. Even when he was busy, he’d usually find a moment to respond. So why was he suddenly acting as though I didn’t exist?My thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the person conducting the headcount.“Ivy Hart?”Silence.The man looked down at his list and called again.“Ivy
Ivy I read the email for the fourth time, hoping the words would somehow change, but they didn’t. Due to immediate postseason media requirements, embedded media staff member Ivy Hart has been reassigned to travel exclusively with the hockey team for the remainder of the championship press tour. I dropped my phone onto the bed. “You have got to be kidding me.” I had done my part. A volunteer couldn’t attend the tournament, so I’d stepped in to cover their assignment. It was supposed to be temporary, something I could complete, collect two points for, and then return to campus. The committee had taken five points away from the total I needed following the scandal with Asher. I’d planned to return to school, catch up on my coursework and find another opportunity to earn the remaining three. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but at least I had a plan. Now, apparently, someone had decided to rewrite it for me. I picked up my phone and checked the email again. There was no men
AsherThe bell above the diner door jingled violently as Ivy rushed out, followed by the heavy slam of the glass door.And just like that, she was gone.I sat frozen in the vinyl booth, my hand gripping the edge of the table so tightly my knuckles had turned white. Her last words kept replaying in my head.I’d appreciate it if we both just went back to being strangers.“Ivy,” I muttered, finally sliding out of the booth.Pain shot through my left shoulder as I pushed away from the table. My bandaged wrist throbbed, but I ignored it. I shoved my good hand into my jacket pocket, pushed the seat back, and headed for the exit.“Hey! Pal!”The waitress popped her head out from behind the counter, holding a handwritten slip.“Who’s paying for the coffee?”I pulled a twenty from my pocket and dropped it on the counter without looking at her before pushing through the heavy glass door.The cold night air hit my face.The street was mostly empty, illuminated by the orange glow of d
Ivy After walking for about fifteen minutes, we ended up at a twenty-four-hour diner three blocks down from the hotel. It was quiet, lit by the harsh, humming glow of fluorescent overhead tubes and smelling faintly of stale coffee and grilled grease. A tired-looking waitress dropped two cracked mugs of coffee on our sticky laminate table, slapped a plastic menu down, and vanished back behind the counter without a word. Across the small booth, Asher sat with his left forearm resting carefully on the table, the stark white athletic bandage looking entirely out of place against the diner's chipped red vinyl seats. He looked exhausted. The championship adrenaline had finally burned out, leaving behind the heavy toll of a brutal game and a battered body. Yet his eyes hadn't left me since we sat down. I stared into my steaming mug, tracing the rim with my thumb, knowing I needed to speak first. Before I could deliver the speech about ending our fake relationship, I remembered what
IvyThe arena was almost empty.A few hours ago, it had been overflowing with people. The stands had been packed, the crowd deafening, and the entire place had erupted when the final horn sounded.Northbridge had won the National Championship. Again.Now, the roar of the crowd had faded into the dull, rhythmic clatter of staff members dismantling equipment, rolling up cables, and packing away the last remnants of the tournament. Most of the players and guests had already left. Only a handful of staff members remained, checking equipment lists and wrapping up their final reports.My hands moved mechanically as I unzipped my camera bag and carefully slid my lenses into their padded compartments. My mind, however, was nowhere near my equipment.It was stuck on him.A smile crept across my face as I glanced down at the photograph glowing on my camera screen. It was one of my favourites from the final game. Asher stood at the centre of the celebration, his teammates crowding around
AsherWestlake equalized midway through the first, capitalizing on a sloppy neutral-zone turnover, and took the lead early in the second. By the time we clawed back to make it 2–2, every shift felt like survival.They were targeting my left side. Whether they knew about the injury or just figured out I was favoring it, every heavy check seemed aimed directly at my shoulder.With three minutes left in the period, Ethan cleared the puck down the ice. I chased it into the corner, bracing for impact.A Westlake defenseman didn’t even bother playing the puck; he just drove his shoulder straight into mine.Pain exploded—not a dull ache this time, but a blinding, sickening flash that stole my breath and left my left arm completely dead at my side. I stumbled hard against the boards, sliding to one knee as the play swept past me.“Captain!” Jax yelled, spinning back.“I’m—I’m good,” I gasped, gritting my teeth so hard my jaw ached.I hauled myself up using the top of my stick, the join
The silence after the slap was deafening.For one heartbeat, the entire student lounge seemed to freeze. Then chaos erupted.Gasps turned into murmurs. Phones stayed raised, lenses pointed straight at us like weapons. Someone whispered, “Did she just slap the captain?” Another voice laughed nervous
The silence that followed Asher’s words was worse than laughter.I stood frozen at the entrance of the hockey club while twenty pairs of eyes bounced between us. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. Everyone seemed to be waiting for an explanation.For a moment, I foolishly hoped he had changed. Two years h
The acceptance email had been sitting in my inbox for exactly twelve minutes and thirty-seven seconds.Not that I was counting.My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped my phone while crossing the crowded university courtyard. One word stared back at me.Congratulations.It had taken two years of c
I couldn’t sleep.I tossed and turned on my narrow dorm bed, the sheets twisting around my legs like restraints. Every time I closed my eyes, Asher’s face appeared — that split-second hesitation in the VIP room, followed by the cruel smirk as he shoved me out. Would he keep my secret? Or was he alr







