Breaking The Ice Between Us (Harper) novel Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Harper POV

I don’t remember leaving his room.

–

One second there was his voice low, shocked saying my name.

And the next, I was running.

Down the stairs.

Out the door.

Into the cold.

The night air hits like a slap, freezing and brutal, scraping agains my lungs. Campus lights smear into streaks, my vision glassy and too bright. My heels click too fast across the sidewalk every step like a heartbeat that doesn’t know how to slow down.

I went there for paperwork.

For a sponsorship.

For something responsible. Professional. Normal.

I didn’t go to see… that.

I bite the inside of my cheek hard, like pain could erase the image burned into my skull. It doesn’t. It never does.

By the time I reach Alpha Chi, my fingers are numb and I’m shaking – adrenaline, humiliation, anger, all braided so tight I can’t separate them.

The front door swings open and warm vanilla sorority-house air floods me. The living room glows soft gold, fairy lights twinkling like nothing bad ever happens here.

I take one step inside before Lila looks up from the couch.

She freezes. “What the hell happened to you?”

My voice scrapes. “Nothing.”

“Oh, that’s the voice of someone who just walked in on a crime stene.” She pops up and grabs my wrist. “Spill.”

“Not now.”

“Right now.” She drags me deeper inside like she’s shielding me from the world. “Sit. Talk. Breathe. Or I’m calling a campus therapist.”

Her tone leaves no room for argument. I sink onto the couch, coat still on, heart trying to rip its way out of my chest.

She studies me, expression sharpening. “It was Logan, wasn’t it?

A shaky breath. “Yes.”

“What did that ice-brained Neanderthal do now?”

“He didn’t… do anything.” I swallow bile. “I did. I went there.”

1/4

Lila’s eyebrows shoot up. “You went to his place?”

“He missed the Fairfield Bank meeting. I was worried the sponso would drop us. I thought maybe if I could get him to sign the partnership forms tonight, we’d still be okay.”

“So you went to handle business,” she says slowly. “And instead you saw-?”

I close my eyes.

Her knees on his bed.

His shirt half-off.

Her lips too close to his.

His face startled, guilty, caught.

–

My stomach twists. “I saw enough.”

Silence drops between us like a stone.

Lila inhales slowly, her jaw tightening. “That absolute- piece of expired- freezer-burned fish stick.”

A hysterical almost-laugh escapes me. I cover my face with my hands.

“I feel pathetic.”

“You feel human,” she corrects. “And totally justified.”

“I shouldn’t care.” It comes out paper-thin. “I shouldn’t give a damn what he does. Or who he does.”

“But you do.” Her voice is gentle, not judgmental. “And that doesn’t make you weak. It makes you honest.”

I look away,

eyes stinging. “I wasn’t there to… fight or flirt or whatever messed-up thing this is. I went because he missed something important. Something I trusted him with.”

“And he was busy having a make-out session with a discount music-video extra,” she snaps.

“She was gorgeous.” The whisper slips out before I can stop it. “And confident. And his type.”

“You are nobody’s second-choice type,” Lila fires back.

“But I’m not his first, either.”

That hurts more than anything else.

Lila exhales slowly. “You’ve known him forever. You liked him forever. That doesn’t turn off overnight.”

“I wish it would.” My voice breaks. “I hate this.”

“I know.” She squeezes my knee. “And I hate him for making you feel this way.”

“He didn’t make me.” I swallow, throat raw. “I did that to myself

She looks at me for a long moment. “You joined this sorority to art over, didn’t you?”

I blink. “What?”

“You told everyone it was networking and leadership. But it was partly reinvention.”

2/4

Her voice is soft. Not accusing. Understanding.

“You wanted to stop being the quiet girl who sat at the front of every class. You wanted to be seen.”

“I still am that girl,” I breathe. “Just… in Greek letters.”

“And you thought maybe he’d finally see you too,” she finishes quietly.

Silence.

It’s the truest thing anyone has ever said about me.

Lila wipes at her mascara-free lashes like she’s holding back tear of her own. “He doesn’t deserve that version of you. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

My laugh cracks. “Can we skip the self-help posters? I want to walow and be dramatic.”

“Absolutely. Want ice cream? Or the emergency tequila?”

“Both.”

“Good girl.”

She stands to go raid the kitchen, muttering like a tiny warrior goddess, “If he shows his face here, I swear I’m releasing feral raccoons in his locker.”

–

A laugh chokes out of me real, messy, painful. “Please don’t.”

“No promises.”

She disappears into the kitchen. Silence settles again, soft and heavy.

I peel off my coat, drop it beside me, and breathe slow. My hand still tremble. My chest still aches.

I shouldn’t have gone there. I shouldn’t have expected… anything I’m the girl who plans, who organizes, who keeps things on schedule. I’m not the girl who barges into boys’ rooms like a dramatic rom-com heroine.

Yet I did. And now I feel like the universe laughed in my face for trying.

Outside, wind rattles the windowpane. Campus hums low and distant.

My phone buzzes.

I flinch like it might burn me.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify