Harper hated parties.
The sweaty bodies, the drunk people screaming, couples making out in the corners, the scent of alcohol and sex—it was all too much. She wasn't supposed to be here. She should have been in her dorm, studying for the internship interview her father had set up.
She didn't belong here. But her best friend, Tyla, had other plans.
"You need to loosen up, babe. Trust me," Tyla said over the loud music, dragging Harper through the crowd.
Harper rolled her eyes dramatically.
She couldn't believe she had let Tyla talk her into coming to this stupid Welcome Party meant to kick off the new semester. Of course, Tyla had a way of getting what she wanted. And now, here she was, claiming Harper needed a break.
"I don't care. Plus, I've already loosened up. And I think I should leave," Harper said, folding her arms as a deep frown settled on her face.
"Come on, just one drink wouldn't hurt," Tyla coaxed.
"Yeah... that's what they say. And the next minute, they wake up in jail," Harper shot back, her voice firm.
Tyla rolled her eyes. "Guess what?" she said excitedly.
Harper didn't even bother responding. She just rolled her eyes again.
Tyla, unfazed, continued. "Logan Hayes is here too!"
She stared at her friend, expecting her to smile or look surprised like most girls would. But instead, Harper just looked bored.
Harper blinked.
"Yay," she deadpanned, sarcasm dripping from her tone.
"Wow, Harper, you're so excited," Tyla teased.
Logan.
The tattooed, motorcycle-riding jerk who had the whole world wrapped around his finger. Guys cheered him on like he owned the campus, and girls drooled over him like he was some hot celebrity.
Something about him just annoyed her.
She didn't know why, but she just knew he was trouble.
Dangerous.
And her number one rule was to stay away from trouble like it was a plague.
"Yes, I am, Ty. You can see the unseeable," Harper said sarcastically, making Tyla shake her head in amusement.
They stopped at the drink table. As Tyla poured their drinks, she glanced at Harper, who stood stiffly with her arms wrapped around herself, as if she needed protection from something unseen.
Tyla smirked and turned to Harper, holding out the cup. "Drink up. You need this."
Harper hesitated, staring at the cup like it held poison. But after a few seconds, she sighed and snatched it from Tyla's hand.
One gulp. Then another.
The bitterness burned down her throat, making her cough slightly, but warmth spread through her chest.
"Yeah! That's the spirit, Harp!" Tyla cheered, finishing her own drink.
Before Harper could think twice, another cup was in her hand. Then another.
And just like that, the tension in her shoulders eased. The loud music wasn't as annoying. The flashing lights weren't as harsh.
Maybe Tyla was right.
It had been so long since she let loose. Maybe, for just one night, she could forget everything.
But then, a wave of dizziness hit her. Regret settled deep in her chest.
Why had she let Tyla talk her into this?
Why had she allowed herself to—
"I need to leave, Ty," she whispered, her voice soft, head spinning.
She clutched her chest.
Tyla, on the other hand, was still hyped up and didn't even glance her way.
Sighing, Harper decided to leave on her own.
Her head ached.
But she wasn't drunk... at least, she didn't think she was.
One moment, she hated the music. The next, she liked it. And then, suddenly, it was too loud again.
She needed air.
Harper pushed through the crowd, her steps unsteady and wobbly.
Somehow, she stumbled into the dorm hallway.
She pressed a hand against the wall, trying to steady herself.
She needed to find the exit.
Which way? Left? Right?
Everything looked the same.
She saw a door open and thought it was the lounge.
Finally, a place to sit and rest.
She stepped inside.
Huge mistake.
This was no lounge. It was a room—a messy room, faintly scented with cologne.
And on the bed?
Logan Hayes was leaning back against the headboard—shirtless.
Wearing nothing but blue sweatpants, tattoos decorating his muscular skin, he stared at her with an intensity that made her stomach flip. Like she was the climax of his favorite film.
Harper froze.
Oh no. Oh no.
"You lost, princess?" he drawled, his voice lazy, wearing a faint smile like this was a normal thing to happen.
Like she wasn't standing in his room, half-drunk.
Harper opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
His lips tilted up into a smirk. "Is that a yes?" he asked, walking toward her.
"I—" Harper turned to leave, but her heel caught on the rug, and she stumbled forward.
Logan moved in a swift motion. One moment, she was toppling forward; the next, a strong arm wrapped around her waist before she could fall face-first.
Harper's breath hitched.
Her hand pressed against his chest for support as her amber eyes scanned his features.
She had never seen him this close. Never realized how beautiful his green eyes were.
He had the kind of face that looked sculpted—sharp jawline, firm lips that seemed made for kissing. His blonde hair was messy, a strand falling over one eye.
Time seemed to slow.
And then—
He chuckled.
"You done staring, princess?"
His words jolted her back to reality.
She scrambled out of his arms, her face burning. "I was just leaving," she muttered.
But before Harper could take another step, the dizziness hit her full force.
The room spun.
Logan let out a low curse as Harper's body went limp against him.
"Shit," he muttered, steadying her. "You're not gonna make it back to the dorm, are you?"
Harper made a sound of protest, but her eyelids were dropping.
"Yep. Didn't think so."
She felt strong arms lifting her onto the bed before everything faded to black.