Emma’s POV
Vanessa wasn’t just furious—she was livid.
Logan Reyes, the guy who used to hang on her every word, was choosing me.
I could feel the weight of her glare every time I walked down the hallway, her eyes burning into my back like she was trying to set me on fire with sheer hatred alone. I tried to ignore it, but ignoring Vanessa was like ignoring a storm when you were already standing in the middle of it.
I should have known she wouldn’t let this go.
It wasn’t until the pep rally that I realized something was off.
The entire school was packed into the gym, the energy buzzing, but I felt… unsettled. Like something wasn’t right.
Then I saw Vanessa and Alyssa huddled near the janitor’s closet, whispering and giggling.
A cold prickle crawled up my spine.
That was never a good sign.
I scanned the bleachers for my backpack, where I knew I had set it down before the rally started.
Gone.
My stomach dropped.
I didn’t even hesitate. I pushed through the crowd, making my way toward Vanessa and Alyssa, my heart thudding in my chest. They saw me coming, and their grins only widened.
That should’ve been my first warning.
The moment I pulled open the janitor’s closet, a bucket of soapy water tipped over, drenching me from head to toe.
The gym went dead silent.
For half a second.
Then came the laughter.
The sound crashed over me like a wave, sharp and cutting. People pointed, phones already out, recording, snapping photos, posting. My hair was plastered to my face, water dripping from my clothes onto the floor. The strong scent of detergent burned my nose, making my humiliation that much worse.
My breath hitched. My throat burned.
I wanted to run.
But before I could, my eyes landed on Logan.
He wasn’t laughing.
He was already moving toward me, his jaw clenched so tight I thought he might shatter his teeth. His entire body was tense, his hands curling into fists at his sides. His eyes burned—not with amusement, but with something dark. Something dangerous.
Vanessa, standing a few feet away, flipped her hair and smirked.
“Oops,” she said, voice syrupy sweet. “Didn’t see you there, Emma.”
I should’ve said something. Should’ve fought back. But all I could focus on was the way people were staring, the laughter echoing in my ears.
Then Logan was there.
Without a word, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders, the warmth of it seeping into my frozen skin.
His hand was steady, firm, and comforting as he touched my elbow. “Come on,” he murmured, voice low. “Let’s get you out of here.”
I let him lead me away, past the whispers, past Vanessa’s self-satisfied smirk.
But this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
By the time I got home, the prank had already gone viral.
The video spread like wildfire—Snapchat stories, TikTok edits, and meme captions that made my stomach twist.
People debated whether Logan’s actions made him a “green flag” or a “walking red flag.”
Others mocked me for being the “pathetic girl” Logan felt sorry for.
Vanessa, of course, played innocent.
“I can’t believe someone would do that to Emma,” she said in a faux concerned voice when people asked if she was involved. “That’s so awful. But I guess Logan’s got a thing for rescuing damsels in distress. A new charity case.”
I sat in my room, phone face down, staring at the ceiling.
The worst part wasn’t the prank.
Wasn’t the video.
Wasn’t even the comments that made me feel like I was nothing more than a joke. It was the way Logan had looked at me when he put his jacket around my shoulders. Like I was someone worth saving. And I hated that a small part of me believed him.
***
Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m this stupid girl who just can’t stay away from him. Because why on earth did I find myself in his room again?
Maybe it was the way he texted me—just enough teasing charm to wear down my defenses. Maybe it was the way his jacket still smelled like him, the warmth of it lingering on my skin hours later.
Or maybe—deep down—I wanted to know where this was going.
Whatever this was.
When I walked in, Logan was leaning against his desk, arms crossed, watching me with that infuriating smirk.
“We’ll get more done without distractions,” he said smoothly.
I snorted, folding my arms. “You’re the distraction, Logan.”
His grin widened as he nodded toward the bed. “Come on, Em. Let’s be serious for once.”
I sighed, sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling out my notes. Logan joined me, sitting close enough that our thighs brushed.
I ignored the way my stomach flipped.
Focused on my notes. Or at least, pretended to.
But Logan?
Logan had other plans.
“You’ve been holding back,” he said suddenly, voice softer than usual.
I glanced at him, frowning. “What are you talking about?”
“This,” he said, gesturing between us. “You’re acting like nothing’s changed. Like there’s nothing here. But there is, Em. And you know it.”
I hated that he was right.
I felt my cheeks flush. “Logan, what are you doing? What is this?”
For the first time, he looked unsure. His cocky smirk slipped, replaced with something raw.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. His jaw tightened, and then he shrugged, voice quieter. “I just know I can’t stop.”
The vulnerability in his voice caught me off guard.
“I’m not holding back,” I lied.
“Yes, you are.”
His eyes darkened, and before I could say anything, he moved.
Leaning forward, pressing me back against the headboard, his arms caging me in.
His breath was warm against my face, his body so close it was dizzying.
“Stop running, Em,” he said, his voice rough, low and dangerous. “I know you feel this too.”
I swallowed hard. My fingers curled into the sheets.
Because I did.
God help me—I did.