Todos los capítulos de Breaking The Ice Between Us: Capítulo 91 - Capítulo 100

Logan POVI stare at my closet like it’s going to judge me.Which is stupid.It’s a closet.But somehow it feels like it’s already disappointed in me.I tug a shirt off a hanger, hold it up, then immediately put it back.Too much.I grab another one.Too little.I’m halfway through a third option when Cole appears in my doorway, leans against the frame, and says, “Wow. You look like a man preparing for a root canal.”“I’m not,” I mutter. “I’m just… deciding.”“On what? Whether to wear clothes?”“I always wear clothes.”“Debatable,” he says. Then he tilts his head. “Wait. Are you… nervous?”“No.”He grins slowly. “Oh my God. You’re nervous.”“I am not.”“You are,” he says, delighted. “You’re actually going on a date-date.”“It’s not a date-date.”“It’s a date,” he says. “With the girl you’re in love with.”“I didn’t say that.”“You don’t have to. Your face does.”I throw a sock at him.He catches it. “Okay, real question. Do you remember how to go on a date?”“Yes.”“Are you sure? Beca

Logan POVHarper looks at me like I just said something in another language.Not angry.Not judging.Just… baffled.“Logan,” she says slowly, “did you forget something?”My chest is still tight. My head still full of static.“Forget what?” I ask.She studies my face for a long second, like she’s deciding how gently to handle something fragile.“I grew up with you,” she says. “I know… stuff.”Her voice drops on the last word. Not dramatic. Not accusing. Just honest.I stare at her.She sighs, and it’s the kind of sigh you make when someone you care about is missing something obvious.“Okay,” she says. “You’re not going to hear me in here. Not like this.”She glances around the café, then back at me.“Did you drive here?”“Yeah,” I say automatically.“Good,” she says, already standing. “Come on. You can drive me back to my house.”“What—why?”“Because,” she says, grabbing her bag, “you look like you’re about to either shut down or bolt, and I’m not doing this conversation in public.”I

Logan POVI don’t drive away.I should.That’s what I usually do — leave, disappear, let distance clean up whatever I don’t know how to sit with.But tonight, my hands stay on the steering wheel and my eyes stay on the house.Harper’s house.I watch her walk up the steps, her shoulders a little tense, her pace steady like she doesn’t want to give herself time to hesitate. The porch light flicks on, casting her in yellow for just a second before the door opens and the noise spills out — laughter, music, voices layered over each other in that chaotic, living way that sorority houses always sound.She doesn’t look back.I don’t blame her.The door closes.The porch light clicks off.And just like that, she’s gone.The truck feels too quiet.Too small.I lean back in the seat and stare at the windshield, my reflection faint in the glass. I look… tired. Older than I should. Like someone who’s been bracing for impact his whole life and forgot how to stand normally.Harper’s voice slips back

Harper POVI’m halfway across the quad when my phone rings.I almost ignore it.Almost.But the caller ID flashes the name I already don’t want to see, and against my better judgment, I answer.“Harper Lane,” Daniel Meyers says brightly, like we’re old friends. “Just wanted to tell you—great photos. Really great.”I slow my steps.“Okay,” I say cautiously.“This,” he continues, clearly pleased with himself, “this looks like someone people want to date.”The words hit me sideways.I stop walking.“I’m sorry?” I say.He laughs lightly. “You know. Approachable. Warm. Softened the edges a bit. It works.”Something tightens in my chest.“I didn’t realize I had edges that needed softening,” I say.“Oh—no, no,” he says quickly, missing the point entirely. “Not like that. Just… optics. You know how it is.”I do.Unfortunately.“Anyway,” he says, already moving on, “we’ll probably run a couple of these. Maybe do a follow-up appearance if the buzz stays positive. I’ll loop Logan in.”“Right,” I

Harper POVThe living room is packed.Girls sit cross-legged on the floor, perched on armrests, leaning against the staircase railings. Someone is still chewing gum too loudly. Someone else is whispering about a group chat notification like it’s breaking news.Typical.I stand at the front of the room with my planner in hand, tapping my pen once against the paper until the chatter fades.“Okay,” I say, projecting the calm authority I’ve perfected over the last two years. “We are officially five days out from the charity auction.”A few girls groan dramatically.I raise an eyebrow. “Save the dramatics. You all signed up for this. The university is watching, the donors are watching, and Daniel Meyers is probably watching from whatever PR cave he lives in.”That gets a few laughs.I continue, “This event is important. It’s not just about money, it’s about visibility. The school wants this to look polished. Fun. Safe.”I glance around the room, letting the silence sharpen.“So I’m going t