Breaking The Ice Between Us의 모든 챕터: 챕터 61 - 챕터 70

Harper POVThe door clicks shut behind us.The sound is soft.Final.It shouldn’t feel like that, but it does.The music downstairs is still thumping, still loud, still alive — but up here it’s like we’ve stepped into a different world. Quieter. Tighter. Charged.Logan stands a few feet away from me, chest rising and falling like he just finished a shift on the ice instead of a walk up the stairs.His eyes don’t leave my face.Not my body.My face.Like he’s afraid if he looks anywhere else, he’ll lose control.Too late.“Why did you really come here?” he asks, voice low, rough around the edges.“I told you,” I say. “I don’t know.”“That’s not true.”I swallow. “Okay. Fine. I wanted to see if you were actually okay.”“And now?”“And now I think you’re an idiot.”His mouth twitches.“Fair.”“You’re playing like you’re trying to break something. And you’re hiding from your team. And somehow people think I’m the reason.”His jaw tightens. “You didn’t break me.”“Then stop acting like you

Harper POVI wake up to quiet.Not the kind of quiet that feels peaceful—the kind that feels… empty.For a few seconds, I don’t move. I just lie there, staring at the ceiling that is very much not mine, trying to figure out where I am and why my body feels like it’s been through something big and emotional and slightly reckless.Then it all comes rushing back.Logan’s room.Logan’s bed.Logan.My stomach flips.I turn my head.The other side of the bed is empty.Cold.The sheets are rumpled, like he left in a hurry.Oh.I push myself up onto my elbows, heart doing something weird and tight in my chest. For a split second, there’s a sharp sting of something that feels suspiciously like disappointment.Then—almost immediately—relief crashes into it.He’s not here.Which means I don’t have to do the walk of shame.No sneaking past Marco and Zack and Cole and whoever else lives in this testosterone museum. No pulling my coat tight and pretending I didn’t just make a life-altering decision

Logan POVI can’t get her out of my head.Not her body.Not just that.Her face.The way she looked at me when I left. The way she didn’t wake up. The way she trusted me enough to fall asleep in my bed like it meant something.I told myself I did the right thing by leaving before she woke up.Gave her space.Gave myself space.That’s what guys like me do.That’s what I’ve always done.Except it feels like I carved something out of my chest and left it behind in that room.The campus gym smells like rubber mats, metal, and sweat. Familiar. Safe. The kind of place where I can usually shut my brain off and just burn everything out of my system.Today, it’s not working.I’m on the bench press, loading more weight than I should, chasing the burn like it might drown something out.It doesn’t.My phone buzzes on the floor beside me.I ignore it.Another rep.Another.Another.Her voice is still there.Her hands.The way she said don’t make me feel like this and then walk away.I rack the bar

Harper POVI am not a toy.I repeat it in my head like a mantra as I cross campus with my chin up and my shoulders squared, like posture can hold a spine together when it’s splitting from the inside.I am not a toy.I am not a distraction.I am not something you pick up when you’re bored and put down when you’re done.The words still feel too thin to cover what happened, but I keep saying them anyway. Because if I stop, my brain will do what it’s been doing since I woke up—dragging me back into his room, into his bed, into that moment where I let myself forget every reason I should’ve walked away.Twice.That’s the part that keeps trying to ruin me.Not once. Twice.I slept with Logan Shaw twice, and now he’s acting like I’m a ghost he can avoid if he just keeps his eyes forward and his life loud.It makes me want to scream.It makes me want to laugh.It makes me want to crawl out of my own skin.The word playboy floats through my head and I almost choke on the irony.Play.Boy.Of co

Harper POVBy the time my night class lets out, my brain feels like mush.It’s one of those long, dry lectures where the professor thinks reading from slides counts as teaching, and all I can think about is the fact that the auction is next week, the final sponsor meeting is tomorrow, and my inbox has turned into a never-ending stream of “just one more small thing” emails.I pack up slowly, tucking my notebook into my bag and slinging it over my shoulder.Seven p.m. The sky outside the building is already dark, the air cooler, the campus quieter in that strange in-between way—too early for parties, too late for clubs.I’m halfway down the steps when I hear someone say my name.“Harper.”I look up.Cole is standing a few feet away, holding a folder and a coffee that looks like it’s been reheated at least twice. He looks… tired. Lab tired. The kind of tired that lives in your shoulders.“Oh. Hey,” I say, forcing a small smile. “You’re still here?”“Unfortunately,” he says, lifting the f