Plaything

Logan leaned back against the stair rail outside the main campus building, one boot resting against the wall behind him, arms folded across his chest.

"Yo!" Eric called out to Logan, walking towards him together with Kennedy. Once they stopped in front of him, they made a handshake.

"Sup?" Kennedy asked with a smile, and Logan just nodded.

"Bro, Liam said he saw you at a club with Harper," Eric said, then moving closer, he whispered, "She was hot."

Logan smirked. It wasn't a lie, after all. She was hot yesterday—in a way he hadn't seen before.

Kennedy and Eric fell into another conversation, and Logan—his gaze drifted lazily across the quad—but it wasn't aimless.

It landed on her.

Harper Reed.

She stood near the fountain with Tyla, the sun catching in her dark hair, her laughter quick and soft. From a distance, everything about her looked normal.

But Logan didn't buy it.

She hadn't looked at him the same since last night.

And when her eyes finally found his across the courtyard, there it was again—that flicker of something. Not shock. Not anger.

Something else.

Fear?

Guilt?

He held her gaze, steady and unreadable.

She was the one who looked away first.

Logan's jaw clenched.

Yeah. That wasn't nothing.

He ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts tightening like a knot. She wasn't acting like she normally did. No playful quips. No fake eye-rolls. Just quietness—and those flickering glances like she didn't know what to do with him.

He replayed her reaction to the question—about Tuesday night. The way she stammered. The way she dodged it completely when her phone rang.

Logan didn't believe in coincidences.

And yet… part of him didn't want to push.

Not because he was afraid of the truth.

Because he wasn't sure what hurt more:

The idea that Harper might be hiding something...

Or the idea that she might be scared of him.

Logan Hayes sighed. She knew the devil he was.

Harper stepped out of the campus library, clutching her phone and mentally preparing herself to dodge Logan for another day.

From the look of things, her plan was working. She was just wondering why he hadn't come to say anything.

It kinda bothered her.

But it was for the best... right?

She sighed, hoping she wouldn't see him on her way.

Too late.

"Harper!"

His voice rang out sharp and clear across the quad. She froze.

Logan was already closing the distance, boots pounding the pavement like the tension between them needed to be chased down.

"Hey," he said, stopping in front of her, green eyes locked on hers. "Are you avoiding me?"

Harper opened her mouth. No words came out.

Then she forced a smile, her face tense. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm serious," he added, his voice lower now. "Because if you are... I deserve to know why."

"Logan, I'm not avoiding you," she lied. "I don't know why you'd think such a thing."

"Princess?"

She looked away.

Before she could think of a reply, another voice cut through the air—sharp, loud, and dripping venom.

"Oh, please."

They both turned.

Hazel and her minions.

Strutting toward them like the villain in every movie, arms folded, lips curled into a poisonous smile.

"This is pathetic," she said, eyes locked on Harper. "You following Logan around like some little plaything. Cute."

Harper averted her gaze.

"You're just his plaything. Stop dreaming that you could ever be something more than that."

Harper thought, Maybe she's right. They were something fake anyway.

"Come on, Logan, tell her!" Hazel turned to Logan.

Harper's stomach twisted. She closed her eyes, awaiting his answer.

Then?

Logan moved.

Swiftly.

Deliberately.

Logan stepped closer, the air between them pulling tight. His hand slid around her waist—slow, firm, deliberate—like he was claiming her space before she could slip away again. His grip wasn't rough, but steady, like he needed her to feel it. To know he was there.

His eyes locked onto hers, green and burning, searching her face like he was reading every unspoken word. Harper couldn't look away. She didn't want to.

Then his gaze dropped.

To her lips.

And lingered.

For a second, the world went still—just the sound of her breathing, the rapid beat of her heart in her throat, and the weight of his eyes tracing the shape of her mouth

"Is that what you think she is?"

Then—

His lips connected with hers.