heyy, I'm goodd. I've been a little inactive here bcs I'm in my final college exams, i've barely been able to sleep, but I'm okay!! I'll be back soon, baby. ☘️❤️
I was planning on writing another chapter of Ice Heart today, but Brazil won the game yesterday and I needed to drink with my friends during the game, and now I'm dying. Never again! Lol.
SUMMARY: A frustrated figure skater who transferred from Illinois has only one goal: keeping her athletic scholarship this season, and she’ll do anything to change the way people on campus see her — especially if it means improving her image for pairs skating. Even if it costs her a fake relationship with the same person who spread the nickname that turned her into “Ice Heart.”
WARNING: SMUT AHEAD CONTENT RELATED TO SEX, RELATIONSHIPS, AND DISORDERS CONTENT CONTAINS FACTS, BUT REMEMBER THIS IS FANFICTION, IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, LEAVE!
MASTERLIST
1.2 Fucked
My legs parted instinctively. I hooked my heels against his back, pulling him closer, and tipped my head back as he trailed kisses and gentle nips along my neck. A shiver ran through me as his hands wandered over every curve of my body.
“We need to keep quiet.”
A low moan slipped from my lips, but he didn’t seem to care. In one firm motion, he lifted me onto the counter and started unbuttoning my jeans, sliding them down my legs.
Logan’s gaze met mine as he knelt in front of me. His lips brushed against my thighs without breaking eye contact. Caressing me over the delicate lace of my panties, he let a dangerously beautiful smile appear.
“So wet for me...” The words came out in a husky whisper as he pressed another kiss to my skin. “Always so good for me.”
When I felt his touch grow more insistent, a shiver shot through me, drawing an involuntary whimper from my lips. My head fell back.
“Johnny...”
“Want me to taste you, gorgeous? I really want to know what you taste like.” His voice reached my ears, and all I could manage in response was a hurried, embarrassed “Mhm,” which made a low laugh escape his lips. “I’m going to give you everything you want, beautiful.”
His tongue then brushed against my clit before licking a stripe through my wetness. Just as I started nearing my climax, a knock at the door made me open my eyes and huff in frustration at not having gotten to come.
“Yes?”
I shouted, still lying down, and heard Hannah say:
“Can you come deal with whatever is wrong with Logan? Because he’s been standing outside our door for fifteen minutes saying he needs to see you, and not even Garrett can make him leave.”
I frowned and looked down at my fingers, which now seemed dirtier than they had five minutes ago because the guy starring in my sexual fantasies was standing at my door.
What a fucking pervert.
“Are you listening to me?” Hannah asked from the other side of the door.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Great. Then come deal with this.”
I closed my eyes.
Took a deep breath.
Opened them again.
I got out of bed and ran my hands through my hair. Trying to rearrange the face of someone who had been seconds away from coming.
Trying to forget the last five minutes. Trying to forget that the man at my door had just starred in an extremely inconvenient fantasy.
“Did he say what he wants?”
“You.”
Great.
Fantastic.
Wonderful.
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“That’s it?”
“Basically.” Hannah paused. “But he looks nervous.”
That caught my attention immediately. So I walked to the bedroom door. When I opened it, Hannah was leaning against the hallway wall with her arms crossed. The amused smile that appeared on her face made me instantly suspicious.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Hannah.”
“Nothing.”
She was definitely lying. I rolled my eyes. Then walked past her. Across the hallway. Across the living room.
Every step seemed to make my heart beat a little faster.
When I reached the apartment entrance, I could hear muffled voices on the other side of the door.
When we entered the living room, Hannah immediately walked over to Garrett. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his arm.
“Good luck,” she said, trying to hide her amused smile.
I rolled my eyes, and Garrett chuckled.
“Don’t kill each other.”
“We already raised the white flag. Relax.”
They said goodbye to Logan and headed down the hallway. A few seconds later, Hannah’s bedroom door closed. Silence settled over the apartment.
When I turned my attention back to Logan, I found him standing near the entrance, his hands tucked into the back pockets of his jeans. He shifted his weight between his heels and the balls of his feet.
Nervous.
Restless.
And, for some reason, it was adorable.
A snort of laughter escaped me before I could stop it.
Logan immediately narrowed his eyes.
“What?”
I shook my head.
“Nothing.”
“You’re laughing at me.”
“Maybe.”
“That’s rude.”
One corner of his mouth lifted, but the tension was still there.
I crossed my arms.
“What are you doing here, Logan?”
Instead of answering, he blurted:
“Did you sleep with him?”
I blinked several times.
“Who?”
“The guy who was at your door when I dropped you off. Who was he?”
“My ex.”
The answer seemed to hit him square in the chest.
“Your ex?”
“Yes.”
His jaw tightened.
“Funny. For someone nicknamed Ice Heart, a lot of men have passed through your life.”
A laugh escaped before I could stop it.
And that clearly caught him off guard.
“Definitely.”
His eyes swept across my face.
“Did you sleep with him?”
I frowned.
“Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know, I...” He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I don’t know.”
I watched him for a moment.
The restlessness. The tension. The way he seemed to be fighting against his own thoughts.
“What are you doing here, John?” My voice came out softer this time. “It’s really late.” I paused. “Like, really late.”
He let out a breath through his nose, as if only then realizing the time. His gaze faltered for a second.
Then returned to me.
Steady.
Determined.
“I needed to talk to you. I told myself I'd text you, but I'm still blocked.”
Logan let out a frustrated laugh and dragged a hand down his face.
“And when you didn't answer my messages, I just... freaked out.”
He shook his head, staring through the windshield for a second before looking back at me.
“Because all I could think was, fuck. She's fucking with him. She's actually with him.” His jaw tightened. “And the worst part was knowing I had no right to be angry about it. Because I was the asshole first. I was the idiot who couldn't get his shit together long enough to tell you the truth.”
The room fell silent. Logan swallowed hard.
“Couldn't tell you that I was in love with you too.” My breath caught. He laughed once, humorlessly. “Do you know how pathetic that sounds? I spent an entire week trying to convince myself I was fine. That this was fine.”
His eyes finally met mine.
“I couldn't sleep.” The confession came out almost as a whisper. “I kept thinking about you. Thinking about us. Thinking about all the ways I'd screwed this up.”
He looked away for a moment before continuing.
“And I wanted to tell you in the car.”
His voice cracked slightly.
“I wanted to tell you that not answering you that day was one of the biggest mistakes I've ever made.”
The air inside the truck felt impossibly small.
“Because I'm falling in love with you too.”
The words settled between us.
Raw. Unavoidable.
“And fuck, it's terrifying.”
He let out a shaky breath.
“I don't know what to do with it. I don't know how to do this.”
His eyes searched mine.
“Because what if I get everything I've ever wanted... and it's you?”
For a second, I was sure I’d heard him wrong. The entire apartment seemed to fall silent. The clock on the wall. The refrigerator. My own breathing. Everything disappeared. Only those words remained.
Because I’m falling in love with you too.
Logan looked just as surprised to have said them as I was to hear them. His chest rose and fell rapidly.
His shoulders tense. His eyes locked on mine as if waiting for the impact. As if waiting for me to laugh. Or throw him out.
Or tell him he’d lost his mind.
But I did none of those things.
I just stared at him.
Because suddenly my brain had forgotten how to function.
The tension on his face grew with every second I remained silent.
“Okay.”
He nodded once. Without humor.
“Yeah, this silence is definitely not a good sign.”
That pulled a small laugh from me. Small. But enough. His shoulders relaxed almost instantly. Almost imperceptibly.
“Well, now you know exactly how I felt when I told you.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry. This is awful.”
“Logan, I don’t... I don’t know what to do. Are you doing this out of pity?”
He spread his arms.
“I’m standing here looking ridiculous in front of you and you’re asking if I’m telling you I’m falling in love with you out of pity?”
My laugh escaped before I could stop it. And for a moment, the tension eased. Just a little. Just enough for me to breathe.
Logan watched me silently. The smile faded slowly. Giving way to something more serious. More vulnerable.
“I didn’t come here expecting an answer.”
My eyes met his.
“No?”
He shook his head.
“No.”
His voice was steady.
“I just needed you to know.”
My heart tightened.
“Because you deserved to know.”
Silence settled between us again.
But it wasn’t uncomfortable.
It was different. Like we were standing at the edge of something important, without knowing exactly how to cross it.
“Did you really stay awake thinking about it?”
The question slipped out before I could stop it. A smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
“Are you talking about the confession or the part where I was spiraling because your ex showed up again?”
“Both.”
“Then yes.”
I rolled my eyes. But I couldn’t hide the warmth spreading through my chest. Logan watched me for a few more seconds.
Then took a step toward me.
Small.
Careful.
As if giving me space to back away if I wanted to.
“I’m not asking anything from you right now.”
My breath caught.
“I’m not asking you to decide anything today...”
But I wasn’t listening anymore. Because something inside me had simply broken. Or maybe finally clicked into place. Before I could think better of it, I took two long strides toward him. I saw surprise appear on his face.
Saw his eyes widen. And then I pressed my lips to his. For a second, Logan froze. As if he couldn’t believe it was really happening.
As if he’d spent so much time imagining that moment that he needed a second to understand it was real. Then his hands found my waist. And he kissed me back.
For a few seconds, there was nothing else but the feeling of finally stopping the fight against what we felt.
He pulled me closer, as if he were still trying to believe that this was real. My hands moved up to his neck, my fingers getting lost in his curls as I smiled against his lips.
When we pulled away, it was just enough to catch our breath. His eyes found mine immediately.
Gentle.
Almost incredulous.
As if they were waiting for me to change my mind at any moment. "I'm tired of pretending that I don't care about you. I had enough time to think if I hated you."
"So..."
His voice came out hoarse.
"Was that a yes?"
I couldn't contain my laughter.
"You're a college hockey player and you still need confirmation?"
"I need to."
His smile widened.
"Lots of confirmation."
I nodded my head, still smiling.
Then I touched his face with the tips of my fingers and he looked at me and held my face between his hands and kissed me again. Not with urgency. But with the certainty of someone who had spent too much time wanting to do it. My heart raced.
And, for the first time in weeks, it didn't seem scary.
It felt right.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and smiled against his lips.
Logan let out a low laugh.
"You're smiling."
"Maybe."
"I can feel it."
"Stop complaining."
"Never."
I rolled my eyes.
So I held his hand.
Intertwining our fingers.
And I started pulling him down the hallway.
His eyes followed my every move. As if he were still trying to process that it was real. When we reached the door of my room, I stopped.
For a moment, we just stood there. Staring at each other.
His smile was so ridiculously happy that I couldn't help but laugh again.
"What?"
He asked.
"Nothing."
"Lies."
"You seem like you won something."
"I actually did."
My heart stumbled. Because he answered without hesitation. No joking.
No sarcasm.
Just looking at me.
As if that were the most obvious thing in the world.
And, suddenly, I couldn't look away. Nor did I want to.
Because after so many misunderstandings, so many interrupted conversations, and so many missed opportunities, we were finally in the same place.
"What were you doing before I arrived?"
The question caught me completely off guard. I felt the heat rise immediately up my neck. Up my cheeks. And the reaction was so obvious that a laugh escaped my lips as they curved into an involuntary smile.
Logan noticed.
Of course he noticed.
His smile grew at that very moment.
Slow.
Too funny for my taste.
"Oh my. What were you doing? "
"Shh, stay quiet."
I pushed lightly against his chest, and he fell back onto the bed with a laugh. The sound filled the room.
That warm, carefree laugh I'd missed more than I cared to admit.
"Are you trying to silence me?"
"I am."
"It's not going to work."
"It's worth a try."
I shook my head, unable to hide the smile. Logan raised an eyebrow.
"So this is how it's going to be now?"
"How?"
"You smiling at me."
My heart stumbled.
Because he seemed so happy with something so simple.nSo genuinely happy.
"It was kind of difficult, to be honest."
I commented, settling into his lap.
"What?"
"Not smiling at you. Your face is very annoying, it makes me want to laugh at her all the time."
"Oh, for sure. That's why you're looking at me with so much disgust now. "
"Uh-huh."
I grumbled and went back to kissing him slowly. I slid my lips along his jawline covered by stubble and continued to his neck, teasing him near his ear. A low moan escaped him before his hands found my neck, guiding my face back so I could look at him.
"If you keep doing that, I'm going to come in my pants."
The statement made me burst out laughing. I hid my face in the curve of his neck, still laughing.
"Well, you should come somewhere else then..."
I murmured near his ear. Slowly, I got off his lap and stood in front of him. Then I took off the shirt I had put on just to answer the door and Logan's gaze immediately swept over my body.
His breath caught.
For a moment, he just watched me.
"Do you really want this?"
The voice came out quieter than usual.
Weaker.
More sincere.
I took a few short steps to position myself between his legs, allowing his hands to find my waist.
"I think you can imagine where my fingers were when you arrived and interrupted me."
The effect of my words was immediate. His eyes darkened and, for a second, John simply stared at me.
"Tell me what you were imagining before I got here, gorgeous," he whispered, pressing soft kisses and lingering touches down the center of my body.
"You were... um..." I stammered, my cheeks burning. "You were going down on me."
His eyes lifted to mine, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile.
"Was I?" he asked softly. "What was I saying to you?"
I closed my eyes, breathing unevenly as I felt his breath ghosting over my skin.
"You said..." I swallowed hard. "Fuck, Johnny. You said you loved the way I tasted. That you..." I broke off, heat rushing to my face. "That you wanted to taste me."
"I do want you. I have since the very first time I had to pretend I was fucking you when this fake relationship started."
As if he were trying to decide whether it was real or just another one of the fantasies he had been having about me. Then, in a swift motion, he leaned in to kiss the valley between my breasts once again, slowly moving up and making the friction of his beard against my skin send shivers down my spine.
"Uhum..."
I moaned, my fingers already tangled in his hair.
"God, I love your mouth."
He lifted his head just enough to look at me, a smug smile tugging at his lips.
"So tell me, gorgeous. Is this better than what you imagined?"
His arms wrapped around my thighs, opening me even more for him, and when his mouth focused exactly on the right spot,exploring my wet pussy, sucking, drawing with a pressure that bordered on obscenity, a loud moan escaped from me before I could stop it.
´´Fuck yeah.´´
"Shh," he murmured against me, and the vibration of his voice made my entire body tremble. "You're going to wake up our friends."
"I don't care. Hannah and Garrett are loud as fuck too."
He laughed, a low and dirty laugh, and shoved his tongue inside me. My jaw dropped back. My hands gripped his hair so tightly that he moaned, and that sound, the sensation of his tongue fucking me while I writhed, was almost too much.
"Logan," I gasped. "Fuck, Logan."
He stepped out just enough to speak, his lips glistening, his gaze fixed on mine. "Do you have any idea how good you taste?" he said, his voice hoarse.
"So sweet."
My response was a shameful whimper, what made him smile, dangerously, and returned to me as if he were starving. This time, he wasn't playing around. Two fingers entered me along with his tongue, and the air escaped my lungs in a gasp. He fucked me with his fingers while sucking me, rhythmic, cruel, perfect. Each thrust made a wet and obscene sound that filled the room along with my muffled moans.
"Come on, cum on my face," he ordered against me, his eyes raised to mine. That was what broke me.
My body arched violently, a scream caught in my throat as the contractions overwhelmed me. Logan didn't back away an inch, he licked me thru it all, drooling and dirty, licking every drop as if it were precious.
When I finally stopped trembling, he slowly climbed up my body. The wet lips. The chin shining. The smile of someone who had just won a prize.
"Look at what you've done," he murmured, running his fingers over his own lips and then bringing them to his mouth. "I messed up my whole face."
"You are disgusting," I managed to say, breathless.
"And you love it."
He leaned in and kissed me, and I felt my taste on his lips. I felt his saliva mixed with mine. I felt his tongue sliding against mine as if he were showing me exactly what he had just done. When we separated, we were both breathless.
"My turn," I said.
Before he could react, I pushed his chest. John fell back onto the bed, surprised, and I was already climbing on top of him. My body slid against his, and I felt his underwear wet, not just from me, but from him, because damn, he was leaking just from sucking me.
"Look at that," I whispered, running my hand over the fabric. He moaned, his hips pushing against my palm. "You're as dirty as I am."
"That's your fault," he managed to say, his voice faltering.
"I know."
I slowly pulled the elastic of his underwear down, feeling every inch of warm skin appearing, and when he was finally naked in front of me, my mouth watered as I watched every inch of his hard cock.
Hard. Wet. Throbbing.
I ran my tongue from the base to the tip in a slow motion, and the moan that escaped him was so loud that I was sure Hannah heard it.
"Quiet," I teased, using his words against him. "You're going to wake everyone up."
"Fuck it," he gasped and i smiled.
So I stuffed it whole into my mouth faster than he expected it to happen.
Logan's body arched entirely on the bed, his hands flying to my hair with a desperate urgency. Not to push me away, to hold on.
"Fuck," he hissed, his voice coming out in a whisper. "Fuck, gorgeous."
I kept it deep in my throat for a second, and two. And that was enough time to feel him pulsing against my tongue, enough time to hear the strangled moan that escaped his lips.
When I slowly went up, sucking hard along the way, Logan let out a sound that was almost a sob.
"You are going to kill me," he managed to say.
I looked at him thru my eyelashes, the mouth still around the head, the lips slippery with saliva. His gaze was fixed on me, his dark eyes and jaw slack.
"That's the idea," I murmured, and the vibration of my voice made his hips rise from the bed. I laughed, a low and satisfied sound, and returned to him eagerly.
This time there was no delicacy. I sucked him as if I were starving, as if the only thing that mattered in the world was that salty and masculine taste on my tongue. My hand wrapped around what didn't fit in my mouth, twisting on the way up, squeezing on the way down, and the sound I made was obscene, wet, greedy, erotic.
Logan was lost. His fingers tangled in my hair, pulling hard every time I got too close to the edge. His moans were constant now, guttural, uncontrollable.
"Stop," he gasped suddenly, pulling my hair harder. "Stop, stop, stop, if you keep going, I'm going to come in your mouth."
I raised my eyes to him.
And I didn't stop.
"Y/n!" he warned, his voice faltering.
I continued. Faster. Deeper. My hand and my mouth work
He laughed, a low, satisfied laugh, and pressed my hips against him.
"Shit, I'm screwed, totally fucked."
John Logan said, both hands on his head, and glancing down at me.
"Literally."
"Literally."
"Literally!"
English isn't my first language, so pls go easy on me.
This chapter wasn't written very well, and I want to apologize for that in advance. When they actually fuck, I promise I'll be able to write a proper smut scene for you guys, just like I always do with my other smuts.
I think that from now on, you can either be happy... or sad. Because the story is finally heading in a happier direction, which means we're also getting close to the end. Stick around, though. We still have more chapters coming throughout the week.
SUMMARY: A frustrated figure skater who transferred from Illinois has only one goal: keeping her athletic scholarship this season, and she’ll do anything to change the way people on campus see her — especially if it means improving her image for pairs skating. Even if it costs her a fake relationship with the same person who spread the nickname that turned her into “Ice Heart.”
WARNING: SMUT AHEAD CONTENT RELATED TO SEX, RELATIONSHIPS, AND DISORDERS CONTENT CONTAINS FACTS, BUT REMEMBER THIS IS FANFICTION, IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, LEAVE!
MASTERLIST
1.1 Bringing Back
When we returned to Briar U and life went back to normal, I honestly wished it hadn't.
My head was still just as much of a mess as it had been over the weekend. Will's and my program was finished. The competition started the following week, and my nerves were completely on edge. My costume was ready, every step had been rehearsed to exhaustion, and our sequence was perfectly synchronized: a Side-by-Side Triple Toe Loop, Triple Twist, Lift, Throw Triple Loop, Backward Outside Death Spiral, Combination Spin, and a Step Sequence that stretched across the entire rink. We were ready. At least on the ice. Because off of it, I was a disaster.
Maybe it wasn't even because of the competition. Maybe it was because I was trapped in a car with Alicia Ivens, on our way to an evaluation recommended by one of her acquaintances after weeks of her insisting that I go. The silence between us had already lasted several minutes when she finally spoke.
"When we get back to campus, I have a surprise for you."
"I'm thrilled."
The sarcasm was obvious, and my mother snorted, rolling her eyes. Something both of us did far too often.
"I noticed you spent the beginning of the summer away. Is that why you weren't answering my messages?"
I kept my eyes on the window.
"I went to visit my dad."
The car fell silent. I didn't need to look at her to know she'd been left speechless. A few seconds later, she changed the subject.
"And what about you and that hockey player? Did you break up?"
I let out a humorless laugh.
"We never had anything to break up."
"Good."
I slowly turned toward her.
"Excuse me?"
"I did some research on him."
Of course you did.
"Alicia..."
"And I found out he's probably not even going to pursue hockey as a career."
My entire body tensed instantly.
"What?"
"From what I found, he'll most likely take over his father's garage in the next few years. That practically eliminates any chance of playing professionally."
"You don't know that. Logan is a great player."
"Maybe he is. But talent isn't always enough."
I felt irritation rise in my chest.
"You don't even know him."
"I don't need to."
"Oh, yes, you do."
She sighed as if she were explaining something obvious to a child.
"I'm just saying he doesn't seem like someone who would add much to your future."
I stared at her for several seconds, unable to believe what I was hearing.
"God..." I crossed my arms tightly. "You're unbelievable."
"I'm being realistic."
"No. You're being mean."
For the first time since I'd gotten into that car, Alicia fell silent. And I was grateful for it. The rest of the drive passed in silence. I kept my eyes fixed on the window as Alicia drove.
The closer we got to the rink, the more my stomach twisted. I already spent hours on the ice every day. I already competed. I already performed in front of judges. But this was different. Because it wasn't a competition.
It was an evaluation.
And evaluations had an irritating way of making you feel completely inadequate. The training complex was enormous. Two Olympic-sized rinks, empty stands, and a constant flow of athletes moving in and out of the locker rooms. Three coaches and a technical evaluator sat near the boards, studying clipboards filled with notes. My nerves immediately worsened. A gray-haired woman approached me.
"You can start with some basic elements. We want to observe your movement first."
I nodded then pushed forward and began gliding across the ice. First, the simpler sequences. Then edges. Transitions. Steps. Changes of direction. My speed increased naturally as my body settled into the rhythm it had known since childhood. Then came the jumps. The spins. The choreographic sequences. The pair elements I could demonstrate individually.
When I finished, my chest rose and fell rapidly from lack of breath. The evaluators exchanged glances. They wrote something down. Spoke quietly among themselves. And that was worse than any criticism. Because I couldn't tell what they were thinking. Finally, the woman closed her folder.
"How long have you been skating?"
"Since I was little."
She nodded. "That explains a lot."
I couldn't tell whether that was good or bad.
"What did you think?"
One of the coaches rested his arms on the boards.
"You have very good movement quality."
Another nodded in agreement.
"Your edge control is excellent."
My heart sped up, though I wasn't even sure why I cared so much about their opinion. In the end, this wasn't what I wanted. It was what my mother wanted. Or maybe it had once been my dream too, and I simply no longer knew where her ambitions ended and mine began. The coaches continued reviewing their notes.
"You have a very strong technical foundation," the gray-haired woman said. "It's obvious you've received high-level training from a very young age."
Another evaluator nodded.
"Your body control is excellent. Your jump entries are clean, your edges are consistent, and you have a natural presence on the ice."
Outside the rink, Alicia smiled with satisfaction. I didn't. I kept waiting for the rest. Because there is always a rest. There's always the part that still isn't enough. The third coach closed his clipboard.
"It would be great to have you in our team, but you're skating while holding yourself back."
I frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"You're executing everything correctly. Almost perfectly, actually." He leaned against the boards. "But it feels like you're thinking about every movement before you do it." I looked at him, confused. "You have the technique to compete at a very high level," he continued. "But you're carrying something with you onto the ice."
My stomach dropped. Because it was true and I hated that someone had noticed.
"Skaters often believe improvement only means learning more difficult jumps. That's not always the case." She gestured toward the empty rink. "Sometimes the next level is trusting yourself enough to stop thinking and simply skate."
I swallowed hard. For a moment, I thought about Logan. About the competition. About my father. About the conversation I still couldn't get out of my head. I thought about everything at once.
"The potential is there," another coach said. "Very clearly."
"You have the potential to reach larger training programs."
"Even international ones," the woman added.
My chest tightened. Anyone else probably would have been happy. Proud. Excited. But all I felt was a strange exhaustion. Because they were talking about what I could become.
And I wasn't sure anymore if that was what I wanted to be.
Alicia looked ready to celebrate outside the rink because, in the end, she had been right when she said I was overthinking. I simply stood there on the ice, staring at the marks left by the blades beneath my feet. For the first time in a very long time, the question running through my head wasn't, am I good enough? It was another one. A much worse one. Do I still love this as much as I used to?
As soon as we got into the car to head back to campus, I bit the inside of my cheek and rested my head against the seat. A headache was beginning to form behind my eyes.
"I told you."
Alicia kept her eyes on the road.
"You need to stop skating like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders."
I let out a dry laugh.
"Maybe I am."
I turned toward her.
Alicia sighed through her nose. The kind of sigh she gave when she thought she was dealing with someone irrational.
"Oh, are you?" Her voice hardened. "Then tell me. What exactly are you carrying?" I closed my eyes. I didn't answer. But she kept going. "You don't work. You don't pay your own bills. You're not supporting anyone." My jaw locked. "And honestly, I'm getting tired of this rebellious attitude."
“I don't know if you know this, but I'm at Briar U because I earned my place there. I was good enough for them to want me during the transfer process, to help rebuild the university's figure skating program. And I carry the pressure of having to stay on the podium because that's part of the agreement. I may not have to pay for all of my college expenses, but half of them are covered because of my talent. And yet you keep acting like you're always doing me a favor. I'm tired of your rudeness.”
I pressed my fingers into my thigh.
She gripped the steering wheel tighter.
"And you should start thinking more carefully about the way you speak to me."
I slowly opened my eyes.
“I paid for you to come here. I paid for your skating outfits. So maybe you should remember your place.”
The words hit exactly where she intended them to. I slowly turned my head.
"No."
My voice came out low.
"My father's money pays for this, because you don't do anything for a long time."
The silence inside the car was immediate. Heavy. Dangerous. Alicia braked a little harder than necessary before turning a corner.
"And that money is mine now."
She practically spat the words. My heart jumped. I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. For several seconds, neither of us spoke. The car continued down the road. And I stared out the window, trying to ignore the feeling that something inside me had just broken.Then I took a deep breath.
"Do you know the difference between you and him?"
Alicia went still.
"What?"
I swallowed hard.
"My father never made me feel like an investment."
Her grip tightened on the wheel.
“No, I'm going to.”
"Don't do this."
My voice cracked halfway through the sentence, but I forced myself to continue.
“Because every time you talk about money, training, or my career, it feels like I'm a project.”
My eyes burned.
“A spreadsheet. An investment.”
The silence returned.
“But I'm your daughter.”
My voice came out softer this time.
“Do you know that? Do you even remember that?”
I looked at her.
"Do you know I'm still your daughter?"
Alicia didn't answer.
And somehow, that hurt more than any argument ever could.
Because for the first time, I had the horrible feeling that she genuinely didn't know what to say. And that answer should have been easy. She should have known. She should have been able to look at me and say, of course you're my daughter. But instead, there was only silence. And that silence told me more than any cruel words ever could. The headlights illuminated the dark road as the car moved forward in silence.
But I knew that silence.
I knew it far too well.
It was the kind of silence that came seconds before she said something cruel.
"You think your father was perfect." I let out a disbelieving laugh.
Here we go.
"I literally never said that."
"But you act like you do."
I turned toward her.
"No. I just think he loved me without turning everything into an obligation."
Her jaw tightened.
"You make it sound like I'm the villain."
"You do that all by yourself."
"Your father never had to deal with you."
That hit me like a punch. My chest tightened instantly.
"What?"
"He didn't have to go through the last few years." Her voice turned colder. "He didn't have to deal with your breakdowns, your mood swings, your existential crises every week."
I swallowed hard.
"You have no idea how unfair that is."
"No?" She let out a bitter laugh. "Then explain it to me."
My breathing became heavier.
"You really want to do this?"
"I do."
I looked directly at her. Without looking away.
“You want to know why I’m so lost?”
Alicia didn’t answer.
“Because my father died.”
The silence inside the car became brutal.
“Because I spent years trying to be exactly what you wanted. Trying to be loved. Trying to earn your love.”
I laughed bitterly, shaking my head as I stared out the window.
“And then he died.”
My throat tightened.
“The one person who loved me without conditions, without contracts, without expectations... died.”
I swallowed hard.
“And after that, I didn’t know who I was supposed to be anymore.”
My eyes burned, but I refused to look at her.
“Because everything I did was always for someone else. For skating. For sponsors. For you.”
I let out a shaky breath.
“I spent so much time trying to become the daughter you wanted that I never figured out how to be myself.”
I stared straight ahead, my vision blurring.
“Because I don't know anymore if I love skating... or if I've just gotten too good at it to stop.”
The words hung in the air between us.
“I don't know if I'm doing it because it makes me happy, or because it's the only thing I've ever been praised for.”
My throat tightened.
“And that's terrifying.”
I laughed quietly, without any humor.
“To wake up one day and realize your entire life might have been built around earning love instead of finding joy.”
Alicia finally looked at me. Only for a second. But it was enough. For the first time, something in her expression faltered. And that was exactly when it happened. A shadow darted across the road. Fast. Low to the ground. Alicia cursed.
"What the…"
She jerked the steering wheel instinctively. The car veered slightly off the road. I heard the impact. A heavy thud beneath the vehicle. Then another metallic sound. Something dragging.
"Shit!"
The whole car shook. Alicia slammed on the brakes. The seatbelt yanked me forward. The engine made a horrible noise. A crack. And died. The silence that followed felt heavy. Unreal. We both sat frozen for a few seconds.
"What was that?" I asked.
"No idea."
Alicia turned the car completely off and tried starting it again. Nothing. Just a strange noise. My stomach dropped.
"What the hell?"
I stepped out of the car and looked at the bumper. There was blood on it, but no sign of an animal anywhere. The sun was setting, and the car wouldn't start no matter what. My mother was already on the phone with someone inside the car while I covered my face with my hands, wanting to scream.
Fifteen minutes later, we were towed to a nearby repair shop. And honestly? I was surprised to find the one person who had been haunting my dreams lately.
"Hey, what's wrong?"
Logan asked the man who had helped us get off the side of the road. Looking at him now, I could clearly tell he wasn't Logan's father but probably his older brother, Jeff i guess. He pointed toward us without taking his eyes off me.
"We were the closest shop. Extra cash never hurts, bro. I think they hit something and the car gave up."
He said, patting John's chest.
"Great. The nearest repair shop just had to be your boyfriend's."
My mother muttered like a sulking teenager. I turned toward her so fast I almost heard my neck crack.
"Can you go five minutes without being unbearable?"
"I'm just stating facts."
"No, you're being annoying on purpose."
She raised an eyebrow. And I had to count to three to stop myself from starting another argument in the middle of the parking lot. Logan watched the exchange for a second before turning his attention back to the car.
"I can take a look."
He ran a hand along the side of the hood.
"What happened?"
The question was directed at me. And for some reason, that made me even more embarrassed. I immediately looked away from him and stared at the dented bumper.
"Apparently she ran something over."
"Because you were yelling at me," Alicia corrected.
"Can you not do this? It's so childish."
"I'm telling the truth!"
"So you hit something?"
Logan asked and we answered at the same time. He let out a quiet laugh through his nose. That stupid laugh. Small. Subtle. Far too familiar.
"Yes."
"Okay." Logan walked to the front of the vehicle and crouched down. "Then you probably hit something underneath the car."
"Oh, you two are not okay..."
My mother whispered to me and i didn't even look at her. I just crossed my arms and huffed. A few seconds later, Logan whistled.
"Yep."
I walked closer.
"What?"
"The oil pan is completely wrecked."
"Shit."
John pointed at a twisted piece of metal.
"And now you've got an oil leak."
Alicia closed her eyes.
"Of course we do."
"Did you keep driving after the impact?"
"For a few seconds."
The brothers made exactly the same expression. The exact same one. It was almost scary.
"Then that definitely didn't help," Logan concluded.
I would've laughed if I weren't too exhausted. Logan stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans. Only then did his eyes truly meet mine. Without the chaos. Without distractions. Without a crowd around us. My heart did that irritating thing it always insisted on doing whenever he looked at me like that.
"How much is this going to cost me?"
My mom asked me brutally.
"That depends on how much you like this car."
"John Logan."
Alicia answered flatly. He raised his hands.
"I'm serious."
Logan was already looking back at the engine. Focused. Working. As if it were the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. The shop was bathed in the golden light of late afternoon. The smell of oil, metal, and gasoline filled the air. For a moment, watching Logan there with his sleeves rolled up to his forearms and a wrench sticking out of his back pocket, I remembered the conversation I'd had with Alicia earlier. He would probably never compete in the Olympics. Maybe he'd never sign a professional contract. Maybe he really would spend the next few years working here. Jeff crossed his arms as he examined the damage one more time.
"We can fix it in a day. Maybe less if we can get the part today. But we're already closing."
Alicia glanced at the vehicle and then at the two brothers. That look. The one I knew. Evaluating. Cold. Calculating. And I already knew I wasn't going to like what came next.
"I imagine this is a perfect opportunity for you."
Her smile was polite, her voice wasn't and that made Jeff frowned.
"What do you mean, ma'am?"
"Well..." She shrugged. "A luxury car just happens to show up here. A desperate customer. I imagine the estimate might go up a little."
Silence fell over the shop. Logan froze. John simply stared at my mother. And I felt my blood boil instantly.
"Jesus."
Alicia didn't even look at me.
"What?"
"Did you hear what you just said?"
"I'm being careful."
"No. You're being offensive."
She let out a short laugh.
"You really think repair shops don't do that?"
Jeff took a step back.
"Ma'am, if you'd rather take the car somewhere else..."
"That's not what she meant." My voice came out sharp. "And you know it."
Alicia finally looked at me.
"I'm just protecting my investment."
"Your investment?"
My chest rose and fell rapidly.
"You just implied they're dishonest."
"I didn't use that word."
"You don't have to. Everything that comes out of your mouth sounds shallow."
I muttered, crossing my arms. My chest was still rising and falling from anger. I avoided looking directly at Logan. And Jeff too because the embarrassment was starting to mix with the frustration and i looked at the brothers.
"Do whatever needs to be done." I pointed at the car. "Seriously."
Jeff raised an eyebrow. But before he could answer, Alicia let out a dry laugh.
"You know you can't make things easier just because you like someone, right?"
The silence was so sudden it felt physical and my face instantly burned.
"Uhm. I'm done with you." I whispered then I turned my back on her and walked out of the shop without another word. I let out a cynical laugh. "Spend whatever the hell you need to. Use all her money, boys."
I swallowed hard. The familiar burning sensation returned to my throat. Again. Always the same thing. I really needed to stop wanting to cry every time I felt pressured.
Or cornered.
Or emotionally overwhelmed.
It was ridiculous. I blinked several times and kept walking. Fast. As if speed could solve anything. As if I knew exactly where I was going. Which I definitely didn't. The shop disappeared behind me as I followed the side of the road. The sky was growing darker. Streetlights flickered on one by one. And I kept my eyes fixed ahead, pretending I had a plan. Pretending I wasn't simply running away. I heard footsteps behind me. Ignored them.The footsteps sped up. I kept ignoring them. Then a huge shadow appeared beside me.
"You don't even know where you're going."
I rolled my eyes. Of course. Logan. Who else would it be?
"Go away."
"That didn't answer my question."
"Because you didn't ask one."
"Fair."
I kept walking. He kept walking beside me. Naturally. As if he had all the time in the world. Which was incredibly annoying.
"Where are you going?"
"Home."
"Which direction?"
"This one."
I pointed randomly ahead. Logan looked at the road. Then at me.Then at the road again.
"And what scientific method did you use to reach that conclusion?"
"Instinct."
"Your instinct sucks."
"Thank you, Mr.arrogant."
"You're literally walking in the opposite direction."
I stopped for half a second. Just half. Then I kept walking.
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"Stop following me."
"No."
"Logan."
"No."
The answer came so quickly I almost wanted to shove him. The problem was that he probably wouldn't even feel it.
"I'm fine."
"You walked out of a repair shop in the middle of nowhere."
"This isn't the middle of nowhere."
"You don't even know the name of the streat you're in." My silence answered for me. Logan laughed. "Exactly." I crossed my arms.
"You're unbearable."
"Seems hereditary today."
I shot him a deadly glare. He had the audacity to smile.
"Seriously?"
"You know I'm right."
"Go away."
"No."
"Why?"
The question came out more tired than angry. Logan shoved his hands into his pockets. Because apparently chasing emotionally wrecked girls was a casual hobby for him.
"Because you're upset."
"Brilliant observation. But i´m not"
"And you're lying again. I thought we'd already gotten past the whole honesty issue." His eyes followed me as I kept walking. "You're wandering around aimlessly."
"Another excellent observation."
"And because in ten minutes you're going to realize you have absolutely no idea where you are."
I sighed heavily.
"I don't want to talk."
"Great."
"Great."
"Then let me take you home."
I stopped.
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"Logan!"
"Get in the truck."
I shook my head.
"I'd rather walk."
"You'd rather be stubborn."
"That too." He laughed. The idiot actually laughed. I was practically running from an emotional breakdown and he was enjoying himself. "That's not funny."
"It's a little funny."
"It's not."
"It is."
I kept walking. Or at least I tried to. Because Logan simply matched my pace without any effort. Which was annoying. Very annoying. Especially because he didn't even seem to be walking fast. His ridiculously long legs were doing half the work.
"Go away."
"No."
"Logan! "
"No."
I let out an exasperated sigh. He watched me for a few seconds. Then something changed in his expression. The teasing smile disappeared. And when it returned, it was different. Softer. More genuine. More dangerous. Because that kind of smile was exactly what ruined every attempt I made to stay angry.
"Please." My heart did something incredibly stupid. The kind of thing I hated. Blinking. Forgetting how to breathe. Existing in the most embarrassing way possible. Logan tilted his head slightly. Brown eyes fixed on mine. An open smile. Full of teeth. Full of that infuriating calm that seemed to say he already knew he'd won.
"Please," he repeated. "Just get in the truck."
I immediately rolled my eyes. Pure survival instinct. Because if I looked at him for too long, I'd give in.
"You're using unfair weapons. Knowing exactly what they do." I stopped walking long enough to look at him. "You know exactly what to say to get under my skin, and you do it anyway." My jaw tightened. "So don't stand there and talk to me about honesty." I shook my head. "I'm not the dishonest one here."
“Please, gorgeous. What weapons?” His voice softened. “I'm not trying to fight with you. I'm just trying to get you home.”
“Your face, you asshole.”
Logan burst out laughing. A real laugh this time.
"That doesn't even make sense."
"Yes, it does."
"So my face is a weapon?"
"Apparently."
"Interesting."
"Not even a little."
He crossed his arms. Still smiling. That damn smile.
"So you're admitting you want to get in the truck."
"No."
"You admitted it."
"I did not."
"You literally just said I'm using my face to convince you."
I pointed a finger at him.
"Don't twist my words."
"You're smiling."
Instantly, I tried to stop. Which only made it worse. Because Logan noticed.
"My God."
He looked absurdly pleased with himself.
"You're smiling."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I literally hate you."
"That's a lie."
I rolled my eyes so hard I almost saw my own brain.
But the truth was that the pressure in my chest had eased.
Just a little.
Enough for me to breathe without feeling like crying.
And I hated that he'd managed to do that.
Hated it. Logan pointed toward the truck parked a few yards behind us.
"Last offer."
I crossed my arms.
"What is it?"
"You get in."
"Hmm."
"I drive."
"Interesting."
"You stay quiet."
"Getting better."
"I don't ask questions."
That made me hesitate. Really hesitate. Because at that moment, questions were the last thing I wanted and Logan noticed immediately.
Of course he did.
I looked at him. At those damn brown eyes. At that damn small smile. At that damn impossible patience. Then I let out a long, defeated sigh.
"You're incredibly annoying."
"I know."
"Unbearable."
"I know that too."
I shook my head. Defeated. Completely defeated.
"Fine."
His smile instantly widened.
"Fine?"
"Don't make me repeat myself."
"Fine."
"Logan."
"Yeah?”
"If you look that happy about winning, I'm getting out of the truck."
His laugh echoed down the road. And despite all my intentions, the corner of my mouth threatened to lift too.
"Just so you know, you can't do that. Act like we're friends."
I said as I opened the passenger door and climbed into the truck. My voice came out quieter than I intended. More tired. More honest. Because the truth was, all of this was confusing me.
A lot.
The door shut with a solid thud and immediately, i was hit by his scent. Something that was simply Logan. I closed my eyes for a second. Just one second. But it was enough for the dizziness to return. Not physical but emotional. Because it had been a week. An entire week avoiding him. An entire week taking different routes through the hallways. Ignoring messages. Ignoring the ridiculous urge to look for him. And now I was sitting in his damn truck. Alone. With him. Logan took a few seconds before getting in.
When he finally closed the driver's door, silence filled the space between us. He started the engine. But he didn't drive away. The low rumble of the truck filled the silence. For a few seconds, neither of us spoke. Then Logan rested one hand on the steering wheel.
"I thought we were friends."
The words came out simple. Without accusation. Without anger. And maybe that was why they hit harder.
I turned toward him.
Logan was already looking at me. Those brown eyes fixed on mine. My stomach did a ridiculous flip. I felt my cheeks heat instantly. Damn it.
"Not anymore. You made your own choices."
I looked away for a second. One of his eyebrows lifted.
"I don't usually drink anything out of people's belly buttons unless they're my friends."
"Really? Considering how many girls you've slept with, I figured you'd done that a million times."
I said, looking away uncomfortably as he started driving.
"No. You were my first."
"Surprising."
I tried to sound indifferent. Failed miserably.
Logan let out a low laugh, the kind he kept buried deep in his throat.
"You sound disappointed."
I immediately turned toward him.
"I sound what?"
"Disappointed."
"You're delusional."
"Maybe. But maybe you're right. I'm still blocked. Friends don't get blocked."
"They do when they're being assholes."
I rolled my eyes. The scenery moved past the window as the truck continued down the road, but I was far too aware of his presence to pay attention to anything else. We spent most of the drive in silence. Not because there was nothing to say. Maybe exactly the opposite. There were too many things.
Too many words.
Too many questions.
So we simply let the sound of the engine fill the space between us. Every now and then, I'd feel Logan looking at me. And inevitably, I'd glance back. Only to immediately look away again.
Like an idiot.
Like we were fifteen-year-olds. Which was ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. Even so, the tension remained. Palpable. The kind of tension that made the air feel heavier.
When the campus lights finally appeared in the distance, I felt a strange sense of relief. And an equally strange disappointment. Because it meant the drive was ending. And I still had absolutely no idea what to do with any of this. Logan slowed down as he drove through the gates of Briar U. The familiar buildings appeared around us. The dorms. The sidewalks. Students walking between buildings.
Everything looked exactly the same. Which was irritating. Because I definitely didn't feel the same. The truck stopped in front of my building. The engine kept running. For a few seconds, neither of us moved. I looked out the window. Then at my hands. Then anywhere that wasn't Logan.
"Thanks for the ride."
My voice came out quietly.
He nodded.
"You're welcome."
Another silence.
Then another.
My heart began to race. Because there was something in the way he was looking at me. Like he was thinking. Deciding. Choosing his words. When I finally found the courage to look up, I met his eyes immediately. Mistake. A serious mistake. Because that look made my stomach flip all over again.
Logan ran a hand over the back of his neck. A gesture I already knew. Nervousness.
´´What's on your mind? ´´
I asked before I could stop myself. He let out a slow breath.
"I was thinking that i ruine..."
But he didn't finish the sentence. His gaze shifted over my shoulder. And then a knock on the window made me jump.I immediately turned my head. And found the last person I expected to see. My brain simply stopped working. For an entire second.
"What the fuck?"
I murmured as I rolled down the window. Outside, he smiled as if showing up after months of disappearing was the most normal thing in the world.
"Surprise."
I stared at his face trying to process it. Trying to figure out whether I was simply too exhausted and had started hallucinating.
Because it made absolutely no sense. None If I could stop people from reappearing in my life at the worst possible moments, I would do it immediately. Because Thomas Aiken should not have been there. Not that night. Not after months of disappearing. And definitely not after the conversation I'd just had with Logan. But for some cruel reason, the universe seemed to enjoy watching me suffer.
"Uhm...no."
The word escaped before I could even process the shock. I slowly shook my head. As if that would somehow make him disappear. Thomas tilted his head. His pale eyes moved from me to the truck. Then to Logan. Then back to me. Curiosity appeared on his face almost instantly. He was putting the puzzle together. And I hated that.
"I thought I'd get a better welcome." His smile widened. That arrogant smile that used to work on practically everyone. "Maybe you'd run into my arms."
"Not even in your dreams."
"Maybe wearing a sexy maid outfit."
The comment earned him a murderous glare. On any other day, I might've rolled my eyes and played along. But not that day. Not after the evaluation. Not after my mother. Not after almost crying on the side of a road.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
His smile faltered. Just for a second.
"Your mother called me."
My stomach dropped. Of course. Of course it had been Alicia. Who else would've done it? Thomas shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.
"She said you needed me."
A disbelieving laugh escaped my lips. Quiet. Humorless.
"Well, then you should leave."
The smile disappeared completely this time. The night breeze passed between us, stirring strands of my hair. A throat clearing. When I turned my head, I found Logan watching the scene. And something strange happened inside my chest. Because he was looking at me.
Not Thomas.
Me.
His fingers still resting on the steering wheel.
His shoulders tense.
His lips slightly parted. As if something was stuck in his throat. As if he was about to say something. Or had just decided not to. My stomach tightened. For a moment, the entire parking lot seemed to disappear. The students crossing the courtyard. The streetlights. The night wind. Everything. Only those brown eyes remained. And the uncomfortable feeling that something between us had been left unfinished. I looked away first. Because it was easier. It always was.
"Thanks for the ride again, Logan."
My voice came out softer than I intended. More intimate too. And that irritated me. Logan blinked once. As if I'd pulled him back to reality.
"Of course. "
Just that. One word. But there was something in it. Something that made my heart stumble. I closed the truck door. The sound echoed through the quiet parking lot. Thomas was watching everything. Absolutely everything. With far too much attention. Like an audience member watching a play without fully understanding the plot, but realizing he'd missed several important chapters. I started walking away. One step then another. Then I heard my name.
"Hey."
I stopped immediately.
My body reacted before my brain could. I turned around. Logan was leaning across the passenger seat, bracing himself against the center console so he could see me through the open window. The yellow glow of the parking lot lights cast soft shadows across his face.
And for the first time that night, he looked nervous. Genuinely nervous. The thought caught me completely off guard.
"Can I talk to you later?" The question lingered between us. Simple. Small. But my heart reacted as if it were so much more.
"Sure."
His eyes softened immediately. Almost imperceptibly. As if that answer had eased a concern he'd been carrying ever since I'd gotten into the truck.
He nodded.
Slowly.
"I'll text you then."
"Yeah..."
Neither of us moved.
And it would've been awkward if it hadn't felt so natural. As if we were both waiting for something. One more sentence. A few more seconds. One more excuse to stay there. Logan's smile returned. Small. Almost shy. An expression I didn't see very often. Then he nodded one last time.
"Goodnight, gorgeous."
My heart stumbled. Because it had been weeks since I'd heard him call me that. Because I hated the effect that nickname had on me. And because, for one ridiculous moment, I wanted to ask him to stay. But the truck began to move. Slowly. The red taillights disappeared across the parking lot until they vanished around the curve leading to the men's dorms. And I watched the truck for far too long. Long enough to feel Thomas's stare burning into the side of my face.
"Who was your friend?"
The question came with a lazy gesture toward the truck disappearing in the distance.
I immediately looked down. As if that could hide anything. As if hiding things had ever worked with Thomas.
"No one."
I heard him laugh behind me. That low, disbelieving laugh I knew far too well.
"That's a lie." I kept walking. Without looking at him. Without slowing down. "You're practically dripping with lust around him."
The words hit me so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet.
"Go fuck yourself."
Thomas laughed loudly. The sound echoed through the entrance hallway. And I hated the fact that I still recognized it instantly.
"It hurts me to know we spent so much time training together and you still think you can lie to me, sweetheart."
I stopped so abruptly he almost walked into my back. I slowly turned around.
"You were much better at lying, Thomas. You cheated on me while we were on the ice together."
I kept walking before he could answer. Climbed the stairs. Crossed the hallway to my floor. Searched through my bag for my keys. And tried to ignore the fact that Thomas was still following me. When I finally reached my apartment door, I shoved the key into the lock and stepped inside. The relief lasted approximately two seconds. Because I heard his footsteps right behind me. I immediately turned around before he could cross the threshold. And blocked the entrance. One hand on the door. My body filling the doorway. The message was clear and Thomas raised his eyebrows. "Sweetheart..."
"Don't call me that. It's been more than eight months, Thomas. Stop." My voice came out tired. "I'm fine."
He let out a humorless laugh. The kind that never reached his eyes.
"You look like anything but fine."
I ignored him. Because if I let that conversation continue, I'd probably end up crying. And I'd already cried enough that week.
"My life started again." The words came out quiet. But firm. ´´So I suggest you leave."
Thomas watched me in silence.
"Your mother..."
"She can go to hell too. Who does she think she is, wanting one of the people who hurt me the most back in my life? It just proves she doesn't know me, and neither do you." My throat tightened. Because it was true. Or at least I was desperately trying to make it true. I lifted my chin. Trying to look stronger than I felt. "There's nothing here for you, Thomas."
The silence that followed lasted so long it hurt. His eyes never left mine. And for the first time since he'd appeared, there was no teasing in them. When he finally spoke, his voice was low.
"Is that what you really believe?"
"That's what I really know. And maybe that's why my heart has gone cold."
Thomas held my gaze for so long that breathing became difficult. As if the entire world was waiting to see which one of us would give in first. But I didn't. I remained standing in the doorway, my hand resting against the door, blocking his path. A simple barrier. A ridiculous one, even. But it was the only thing I had at that moment.
"Okay."
The word came out quietly.
"If that's what you want..." The sentence died halfway through. His jaw tightened. "Then I'll leave."
Thomas looked away, staring at the floor for a moment. As if finding the strength to leave was harder than finding the strength to show up. When he looked back at me, a small smile appeared. The shadow of the smile I used to know. "You're still terrible when you're hurt." I rolled my eyes immediately and that made the corner of his mouth lift a little higher. "See?" His voice came out softer. More like the Thomas who existed before everything went wrong.
"The same murderous look."
Responding meant stepping back into territory I'd spent eight months trying to leave behind. The smile slowly faded. Taken away by the silence. Thomas took a deep breath. Then stepped back. And another step. His eyes traveled over my face one last time. As if he were trying to save something. Memorize something.
I hated that I knew exactly what that felt like. Then he spoke. Quietly. Almost a whisper.
"I never wanted to hurt you." I closed my eyes for a second. Because those words came too late. Months too late. When I looked at him again, my throat tightened. But I kept my voice steady.
"But you did."
Thomas nodded. Without arguing. Because it meant he knew. Knew exactly what he'd done. Knew exactly what he'd destroyed. We were long past pretending otherwise. Silence returned. And this time, neither of us tried to fill it. Finally, Thomas shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. His shoulders slumped. His expression tired. Looking older than I remembered.
"Goodnight." My heart didn't waver, because the only person it beat for had already left.
"Goodnight, Thomas."
I watched him walk away until he disappeared completely. Only then did I realize I was still standing in the doorway. Staring at an empty hallway. And for the first time in eight months… Thomas Aiken had left when I asked him to.
English isn't my first language, so pls go easy on me.
SUMMARY: A frustrated figure skater who transferred from Illinois has only one goal: keeping her athletic scholarship this season, and she’ll do anything to change the way people on campus see her — especially if it means improving her image for pairs skating. Even if it costs her a fake relationship with the same person who spread the nickname that turned her into “Ice Heart.”
WARNING: SMUT AHEAD CONTENT RELATED TO SEX, RELATIONSHIPS, AND DISORDERS CONTENT CONTAINS FACTS, BUT REMEMBER THIS IS FANFICTION, IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, LEAVE!
MASTERLIST
1.1 Bringing Back
1.0 Doped
One of the few good things about being back in Delaware was knowing my father was buried there, beneath that stretch of land covered in soft grass where I had cried once before… and was crying again now.
Sitting in front of his headstone, I lowered my gaze to my hands and let out a heavy sigh.
Dad had been one of the best people in my life. He could be just as disciplined as mom, but unlike her, he carried light wherever he went. People changed when he walked into a room. The atmosphere shifted with him. And staying away from this place for two years straight only reminded me of how deeply his death had carved a hole into my heart.I still remember the first time I watched him win over an entire crowd with nothing but a smile. That was the moment my whole perspective on skating changed forever. After confessing everything that had been trapped inside my head to Logan, I changed clothes quickly, threw on something comfortable to run in, and an hour later found myself standing in the cemetery.
By the time I finally got home, it had to be close to twelve thirty. I could hear Tucker’s voice coming from the kitchen along with Beau’s and Garrett’s, while Logan and Dean were sprawled across the couch in front of the television with their backs turned toward the staircase. My only goal was to make it upstairs unnoticed, but the step betrayed me with a loud creak that made both Dean and Logan glance over their shoulders.
Dean immediately turned his attention back to the TV.
Logan didn’t.
He kept staring at me in silence, as if he were trying to read every thought moving through my head, only snapping out of it when Dean nudged him discreetly with his elbow.
I looked away quickly and headed upstairs. I found Hannah and Allie in the room Allie was staying in, both of them finishing getting ready while talking about something completely unimportant. I stopped in the doorway and forced a smile.
“Are we going out?”
“Obviously. We’re heading to the pier after Tucker finishes breakfast.”
Allie answered excitedly, and I let out a quiet laugh through my nose.
“You guys do realize it’s almost one in the afternoon, right?”
“They said it’s never too late for food.”
Hannah shrugged, and I nodded faintly, too drained to argue.
“Alright… I’m going to take a shower.”
I said it while walking toward the room I shared with Logan, though honestly, I didn’t think I could survive another night beside him after everything that had happened. Still, I didn’t have the courage to ask one of our friends to switch rooms and ruin their trip because of my emotional mess.
I grabbed a light dress from the bottom of my suitcase along with a bundle of underwear and stepped into the bathroom, turning on the shower a second later. I stayed under the water for a long time, letting the heat run over my shoulders while I tried to untangle the chaos inside my mind. But it didn’t work.
Every time I closed my eyes, I was back at the cemetery. Back in front of my father’s grave. Back to the suffocating ache in my chest after talking to Logan. I pressed my hands against the shower wall and took a deep breath.
I was exhausted from feeling everything so intensely.
The voices grew louder as I approached the kitchen.
Tucker was placing pancakes onto a serving tray while Beau stole pieces before they even made it to the table.
“You’re so fucking annoying,” Tucker complained, smacking his hand away.
“You cook way too well to expect manners.”
Garrett laughed softly from where he sat on the counter, and even Dean seemed invested in the stupid argument.
For a moment, watching all of them like that almost felt normal.
Almost.
Logan was leaning against the refrigerator with his arms crossed, and his eyes locked onto me the second I stepped into the kitchen. My stomach twisted instantly.
“Well, look who decided to come back to life,” Dean commented.
I rolled my eyes.
“Very funny.”
“Ooh, she’s in a bad mood,” Beau muttered while grabbing another pancake.
“That’s literally the point,” Garrett agreed calmly before taking a sip of coffee.
Despite everything, I ended up laughing softly again. Small. Automatic. And Logan noticed. Of course he noticed.
His expression softened for a second, as if hearing that sound had lifted some invisible weight off his chest. I looked away before he could mistake it for hope.
“I was thinking we should light the bonfire outside tonight and make some s’mores. That’d be fun, right?” Beau said, clapping his hands and pointing at Dean, clearly far too excited about his own idea. Allie let out a squeal and immediately looked at me.
“Like old times!”
She said it, and I laughed, throwing my head back.
“Seriously? You actually suggested that?”
“Yeah!” Allie replied, already laughing. “Okay, so when we used to play S’mores All Fours, everyone made their own s’more however they wanted, and then someone from the group had to guess what ingredients were inside it.”
“Okay…” Hunter murmured slowly. “And where exactly is the fun part?”
I rolled my eyes and moved to stand beside Allie.
“Every guess came with a challenge attached to the round,” I explained. “So if you guessed someone’s ingredients right, you were safe and everyone else had to do whatever challenge you picked.”
Allie raised a finger, adding:
“But if you guessed wrong, you were the only one doing the challenge.”
“And obviously,” I continued, “if you lose, you stop drinking because that’s the punishment for being stupid.”
Dean burst out laughing.
“What kind of challenges?”
Allie instantly flashed a wicked smile.
“You choose. You can make people in the circle do whatever you want. Or dare someone to run into the ocean naked.”
“Send nudes to someone.”
“Flirt with the neighbor and steal a bottle of wine,” I added.
“Reveal a secret.”
Hunter nearly choked on his drink.
“Sorry...what?”
Allie shrugged as if that were completely normal.
“The rules always got more interesting after the third round, once everybody started losing.”
I shrugged while sitting on the backrest of the couch and shooting Allie a conspiratorial look.
“They scare me sometimes.” Hannah groaned, and both Allie and I looked at her.
“Baby, you’re on our team.” I said it, and she laughed. She raised her hands in surrender.
“Okay, that’s honestly even more terrifying.”
When we came back from the pier hours later, slightly drunk, the sky was already dark and the sound of waves crashing against the sand seemed louder in the nighttime silence.
The guys lit the bonfire behind Dean’s beach house, close enough to the shore for the ocean breeze to reach us, while Tucker and Garrett divided pizza boxes across the outdoor table.
The smell of smoke, saltwater, and melted cheese drifted through the air.
For some reason, it all felt dangerously comforting.
Allie was sprawled across a beach chair with her legs tossed over mine while we shared a joint, Dean argued with Beau about what music to play through the speaker, and Hannah filmed Tucker trying to set an entire marshmallow on fire. I had spent the entire day avoiding Logan.
Avoiding looking directly at him. Avoiding answering anything beyond what was necessary. Avoiding standing close enough to catch his cologne or remember the conversation from that morning.
And to a certain extent… it worked.
It worked while I stayed distracted.
While there was noise.
While everyone was laughing too loudly.
While my mind still had room to run from him.
But now, sitting beside the fire with my head light from the mix of weed and alcohol in my system, thinking about Logan felt unavoidable.
Worse.
It felt impossible to think about anything else.
I lifted my eyes without meaning to. He was sitting across the fire, sunk low in a beach chair with a drink balanced against his thigh, the flames reflecting against the sharp line of his jaw.
Beautiful.
Ridiculously beautiful.
As if the universe genuinely enjoyed punishing me. And as though he could feel me staring, Logan looked up at me that exact second.
My chest tightened painfully and i looked away too fast, grabbing the beer beside me just to pretend I was searching for something.
“Okay!” Beau clapped loudly, breaking the brief silence. “Time for S’mores All Fours.”
“That sounds like the name of a porn site,” Dean commented immediately.
“We literally named it that because...”
I started to say, but Allie slapped her ring-covered fingers over my mouth before I could finish, widening her eyes dramatically.
“You litlle crazy thing, shut up.”
“Sorry.”
My voice came out muffled behind her hand, and she finally let go while laughing and lightly shoving my face away.
“You get dangerously honest when you’re high.”
“And you get bossy.”
“Because someone here has to maintain at least a little dignity.”
Dean pointed at both of us with his beer.
“You two are assuming there’s still any dignity left in this group.”
The bonfire burned in the middle of the sand, crackling softly while the wind shifted the smoke every few seconds. Closer to the water, the waves rolled in with a slow, hypnotic rhythm, and the lights from the house behind us cast everything in that strangely nostalgic glow that only beaches at night seem capable of creating.
The pizza boxes were already half empty.
So were the beers.
Allie stood from her chair and walked over to the table where the ingredients were spread out.
“Okay, listen carefully because I’m not explaining this twice.”
“That sounds threatening,” Hunter commented.
“Because it is.”
She pointed dramatically at the ingredients like a completely unhinged cooking show host.
“Everyone makes a secret s’more. The rest of the group has to guess what’s inside.”
“And then comes the concerning part,” I added. Allie smiled slowly.
“Everyone also writes down a challenge.”
Beau threw his head back laughing.
“My God, this is genius.”
“Don’t encourage her,” Tucker muttered. Dean grabbed the notepad from Allie’s hand.
“How bad can these challenges really get?”
Allie and I exchanged a look immediately.
Hannah noticed right away.
“Oh, you two have history with this.”
“Unfortunately,” I answered.
Logan laughed softly from the other side of the fire while absentmindedly turning a marshmallow skewer between his fingers. The sound cut straight through my chest in the most irritating way.
Because he laughed at me yesterday, just like that, when we raised a white flag declaring peace between us… until the flag was stained with blood eight hours later. How is that even possible?”
I looked away before I could think too much about it.
Beau was already building some kind of culinary monstrosity while narrating his own choices like he was hosting a cooking competition.
“Sweet, salty, spicy… this is emotional depth.”
Hunter grabbed a jar and frowned.
“Why are there pickles?”
“Why wouldn’t there be?” Allie replied.
“Okay.” Dean clapped once. “Important rules: nothing illegal, nothing that could get us arrested, and nothing involving calling my mother.”
“Oddly concerning that you had to specify that,” Hannah commented.
Allie took the pen back.
“Perfect. Now write your challenges.”
Everyone grabbed paper plates and started building their s’mores while music played softly behind us and the ocean crashed nearby.
The fire crackled louder whenever the wind picked up.
And despite everything…
Despite the cemetery.
Despite the conversation with Logan.
Despite the constant knot twisting inside my chest.
I was having fun.
Even if only for a few minutes.
I watched Hannah hide something inside the chocolate while trying to suppress a guilty smile. Dean stole ingredients off everyone else’s plates. Beau narrated his own decisions like he was on a reality cooking show. And Logan…My stomach tightened involuntarily when my eyes landed on him again. He was too focused on assembling his s’more, sleeves pushed up to his forearms and a cigarette balanced between his fingers.
Beautiful in the most irritating way possible.
Ridiculously irritating.
As if simply noticing that wasn’t slowly destroying my sanity.
“Okay!” Allie clapped. “First victim.”
“Why did you say that like a saw host?” Hunter asked.
“Because it fits.”
She picked up one of the plates and lifted it dramatically.
“Who wants to start?”
“Me!”
Beau jumped up from his chair, pointing proudly at his own chest like he’d just been selected for a reality TV show. He grabbed the plate holding his s’more and stood in the center of the circle, staring at all of us with far too much excitement.
“Alright, you fuckers,” he announced. “I wanna know who’s brave enough to guess my s’more.”
Allie was already laughing before the game had even properly started, and Dean immediately stood up to inspect Beau’s s’more, crossing his arms with ridiculous confidence.
“I can do this,” Dean said, already getting to his feet before he’d even finished the sentence.
He dragged a hand over his mouth while staring at Beau’s s’more like it was a matter of personal honor.
“I know what this asshole put in here.”
Beau let out a short laugh.
“Everybody thinks that right before they fail spectacularly.”
Dean ignored him, stepping farther into the glow of the bonfire.
“If I lose…” he continued, pointing his chin toward the plate while trying to hold onto his confidence, “…I’ll do whatever challenge you guys choose.”
Allie grinned instantly, leaning forward in her chair.
“Now we’re talking.”
Dean paused briefly, looking around like he was actively choosing his fate.
“But if I get it right…” he added more slowly, “…you all spend one full round doing whatever I tell you.”
A brief silence settled over the group. Beau lifted an eyebrow.
“Okay.”
Dean stood there a second longer than necessary, like part of him still wanted to back out of his own bet.
But nobody there believed in regret.
Allie already had that dangerous smile of someone who lived to watch people suffer during group games. Beau held the s’more like it was evidence in a criminal investigation. Tucker watched silently with the expression of someone who had already accepted that this would end badly somehow.
Dean inhaled sharply through his nose and pointed accusingly at the dessert as if that would help.
“There’s chocolate, obviously. Marshmallow… obviously. And…” he narrowed his eyes. “…is that pickle?”
Beau burst into immediate laughter.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to,” Dean shot back, already losing some confidence.
“Okay, for the record, that’s actually not terrible.”
“That is not a compliment, Allie,” Dean muttered.
He hesitated again, trying to figure out the final ingredient.
“And… something sweeter. Like caramel… or Nutella.”
Silence.
Beau was already laughing before the answer even came.
Allie crossed her arms.
“Final answer.”
Dean closed his eyes for half a second.
“Chocolate, marshmallow, pickles, potato chips, and caramel.”
He opened his eyes again.
“That’s it.”
Allie snatched the s’more from his hand without ceremony.
“Wrong.”
The word was far too simple. And more than enough. Beau exploded into laughter.
“I FUCKING KNEW IT.”
Dean dragged a hand down his face.
“Just tell me what was in it.”
Allie counted on her fingers slowly, enjoying every second of it.
“Chocolate, marshmallow… yes, pickles. But also chili flakes, salt, and peanut butter.”
Tucker let out a disbelieving laugh.
Everyone took a shot afterward, and Dean made the most genuinely devastated noise imaginable over losing.
“Fuck my life.”
Dean ended up having to go to the neighbor’s house to ask for a glass of milk while completely naked, and Allie already had her phone raised like she was documenting a historical event
“This is absolutely going on my story,” she announced with way too much seriousness for the situation.
“Don’t even think about it!” Dean shouted while running back to us with a cup of milk.
“Oh, I’m definitely thinking about it!” Beau yelled back, laughing so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.
And honestly, nobody there even looked shocked — like there was some silent agreement that everybody on campus had already seen enough of Dean at some point in life for this not to count as news anymore.
The game only got worse after that.
Or better.
Depending on who you asked.
Allie somehow managed to make Hunter lose in the most ridiculous way possible, and the punishment turned into everyone stripping down to their underwear after correctly guessing his s’more — which immediately caused complete chaos filled with yelling, arguing, and somebody desperately trying to defend rules that had clearly never existed.
For some inexplicable reason, Tucker ended up with a challenge involving posting a story saying he “loved turkey in his mouth,” which left him staring at his phone for a solid ten seconds before accepting his fate with every ounce of dignity destroyed.
Hannah lost next, and without even arguing, ended up on Dean’s porch loudly serenading the other neighbor like it was a private concert — and the worst part was that she wasn’t bad enough to be ignored.
Garrett, laughing like he was watching a social experiment unfold in real time, eventually had to swap clothes with whoever was sitting to his right, which sparked a series of protests and negotiations nobody took seriously.
And then… the game reached him.
Logan. The atmosphere shifted slightly the moment Allie turned the plate toward him with a slow smile, clearly waiting for some kind of reaction.
“Okay,” she said, pointing. “Your turn to guess Hannah’s s’more.” Logan stared at the s’more like he was already exhausted by his own existence.
Then he looked at all of us. He let out a quiet sigh, dragging a hand through his hair before looking back down at the plate again.
And for a second, before any guesses or challenges, he just picked up the s’more far too calmly.
“Alright,” Logan murmured. “Let’s get this over with. I don’t think you’d be evil enough for this, Hannah.”
Hannah smiled like she already knew this was about to get interesting.
“You are severely underestimating me.”
“No,” Logan replied lazily. “I think you used graham crackers, marshmallow, and chocolate.”
“That’s your final answer? Basic?”
She narrowed her eyes at him and he narrowed his right back.
“Take the shot.”
“Wrong! I added bananas too.”
Allie lifted the notebook again, already enjoying herself while Logan raised his hands in surrender and laughter echoed across the beach.
“Fucking bananas, Wellsy?”
Logan was drunk, but it was a different kind of drunk than the one I’d seen during all those months at Briar U. He was relaxed, and unlike every other time when he always carried himself guarded and tense, his shoulders were loose now, like he was actually breathing for once. Which was agonizing, because looking at him stole the air from my lungs.
“Challenge.”
This time Logan didn’t even sigh. He just nodded once.
“Go ahead.”
Allie read it slowly, deliberately taking longer than necessary.
“You have to choose someone here to feed with your s’more… and then take a body shot off them.”
Silence fell immediately.
Different from before.
Heavier.
Sharper.
Dean let out a low “oooh.”
Beau was already grinning like this was premium entertainment. Hannah’s eyes widened, clearly proud of herself.
And Logan…
Logan stayed still for one second too long. His eyes moved slowly across the group. Until they stopped on me.
Again.
But this time there was no teasing there. No distraction. It was direct. Intentional. He took one step forward. Then another. The crackling of the fire sounded louder as he approached.
And when he finally stopped in front of me, he lifted the s’more slightly, like he was waiting for some kind of reaction before doing anything.
“What? Why do I have to suffer through their punishments too?”
“It’s the game, baby.”
I heard Allie say it, and I rolled my eyes upward — straight into Logan’s gaze, the same eyes I’d been crying over earlier that day.
“Open your mouth.” he said quietly, lifting a finger to my chin and brushing his thumb against my skin in a way that almost made me want to cry again.
“You don’t even say please?”
His eyes dropped to my face, and the corner of his mouth lifted into the faintest smile.
“Please, baby,” he murmured softly. “Do it for me.”
No teasing. No smirk. Just… Logan. The touch was gentle. Almost too careful.
His fingers slid beneath my chin while he held the s’more in his other hand, patiently waiting for me to open my mouth. And that… that ruined me in a way teasing never could have. Because i notice that Logan was never gentle with me when he was confused. He became distant. Cold. Closed off. But now, drunk and staring at me like that, he looked dangerously sincere. I opened my mouth without complaining. Without even being capable of complaining.
Logan slowly brought the s’more closer, and I took a small bite, immediately tasting sweet chocolate mixed with cinnamon. Around us, the group instantly started making noise on purpose.
“Ugh, this just turned pornographic.”
One of their voices made me tear my eyes away from Logan and roll them at the group.
“That sounds like a your problem.”
I answered, and that was apparently Beau’s cue to grab a shot. I looked at him and shook my head.
“No. Pick someone else.”
Everyone around us laughed immediately.
“Oh please,” Dean said with a grin. “You two might technically be nothing right now, but Logan’s probably licked you a million times already. Don’t act like this is groundbreaking.” I laughed nervously, the sound unsteady and drunk.
“Sure.”
I muttered while looking upward and pushing myself out of the chair. The wooden table on Dean’s porch was sturdy enough to hold me, so I climbed onto it while Logan grabbed my waist and helped me sit before laying back against the surface.
“You want me to choose someone else?” he murmured quietly. I looked at him coldly, trying not to reveal too much.
Beau handed me a lime wedge to hold between my teeth, and I answered before biting down on it.
“Just do the challenge, Logan.”
Then Logan’s fingers hooked into the waistband of my shorts, tugging the fabric down just enough to expose my stomach.
The cold beach air hit my skin immediately. Beau appeared beside the table holding the shot glass with a criminally excited grin.
“This officially turned into a banned reality show episode.”
“Shut up and pour it already,” Dean replied through laughter.
The cold liquor spilled directly into my belly button, making my entire body tense from the sudden temperature. I instinctively tilted my head back, staring at the dark sky scattered with stars while trying to ignore the way Logan was still holding my waist like he was steadying me.
Like I actually needed it.
And then I felt his mouth.
His warm tongue slid slowly against my stomach, collecting the alcohol while a violent shiver raced up my spine.
“Fuck…” someone muttered near the fire.
The laughter grew louder. So did the comments.
But everything felt distant the moment Logan lingered longer than he needed to. Longer than the game required. Longer than anyone there should’ve noticed.
My breath caught when his lips slowly moved upward along my skin until they reached mine. Or rather...the lime trapped between my teeth.
His eyes lifted to mine in that exact moment.
Dark.
Heavy.
Dangerously drunk.
And Logan stayed there for far too long. Too close. His warm breath mixing with mine while he slowly took the lime between his teeth with absolutely no hurry to pull away.
Like he’d forgotten the entire audience around us.
Like for a few seconds, only the two of us existed.
The lime finally left my mouth in a movement far too slow to be accidental. And when Logan finally pulled away, still close enough for me to smell alcohol mixed with his cologne, the entire group exploded around the bonfire.
“I FUCKING KNEW IT,” Beau practically screamed.
Allie was doubled over laughing in her chair. Dean pointed at both of us like he’d just witnessed his own personal Super Bowl.
“You two seriously have unresolved issues.”
I let out a nervous laugh, still trying to catch my breath while Logan kept his hand on my waist one second longer than he should have before finally stepping away.
I climbed off the table dizzy and smiled at everyone, giving them a sarcastic little bow.
“You’re welcome for the entertainment.”
Twenty minutes later, everyone started getting sleepy, and we eventually moved inside once the cold settled in.
As people started heading upstairs to their rooms, I stayed curled up on the couch pretending to be distracted by my phone until only Hannah remained, carrying a bottle of water upstairs with her.
“You’re not coming up?”
“I will. I’m just looking at something important. Goodnight.”
I answered, my eyes already struggling to stay open, and then she left. But I wasn’t going upstairs.
I refused to lie next to Logan that night, not while I was still carrying the ache from earlier that day and the lingering heat of his mouth against my stomach.
So I ended up on the couch instead. I told myself it was temporary, that I’d just close my eyes for a minute. But I fell asleep before I even had the chance to decide otherwise. Or maybe I did decide—I just didn’t want to admit I couldn’t handle being in the same room as him without reaching for him.
Because I knew I wouldn’t make it up those stairs without feeling dizzy at the simple fact that Logan was there—too close, and still someone I wasn’t supposed to want like that.
After I blacked out, the next morning was worse.
When I woke up upstairs in his bed, wrapped in soft, unfamiliar blankets, and saw Logan asleep on the floor, something twisted in my chest. Not relief. Not comfort. Something heavier.
And somehow, that might have been almost worse than him not agreeing with me the morning before.
English isn't my first language, so pls go easy on me.
I really had fun writing this chapter. Maybe also knowing that things are going to get better.
SUMMARY: A frustrated figure skater who transferred from Illinois has only one goal: keeping her athletic scholarship this season, and she’ll do anything to change the way people on campus see her — especially if it means improving her image for pairs skating. Even if it costs her a fake relationship with the same person who spread the nickname that turned her into “Ice Heart.”
WARNING: SMUT AHEAD CONTENT RELATED TO SEX, RELATIONSHIPS, AND DISORDERS CONTENT CONTAINS FACTS, BUT REMEMBER THIS IS FANFICTION, IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, LEAVE!
MASTERLIST
1.0 Doped
0.9 Unsaid
When I opened my eyes the next morning, there was no confusion left in my head. No hesitation. No overthinking. I knew exactly what I wanted. Knew exactly what I needed to do. So I got out of bed before I could lose my nerve, leaving Félix asleep beneath the tangled sheets as I slipped quietly out of his house and headed toward Dean’s place. Thankfully, the houses weren’t far from each other in the neighborhood we were staying in.
The beach air was colder in the early morning, carrying the scent of salt and leftover smoke from last night’s bonfire. By the time I walked into Dean’s house, everything was silent. Still half asleep. I climbed the stairs quickly, heart beating harder with every step, and pushed open the bedroom door without thinking twice.
Logan was sprawled beneath the comforter, dark hair messy against the pillow, bare chest exposed above the sheets. He looked deeply asleep. Peaceful in a way that almost irritated me. I peeled off the uncomfortable clothes I’d slept in, grabbed an oversized T-shirt lying abandoned on the floor, and pulled it over my head before climbing onto the mattress.
The bed dipped beneath my knees as I moved toward him, stopping beside his waist.
“Logan.”
My voice came out softer than I intended.
I placed a hand on his arm and shook him gently. He shifted with a tired groan, brows pulling together slightly while I pressed my lips into a thin line.
“I need to talk to you,” I whispered. “I need to tell you something.”
He turned onto his side without opening his eyes, sinking deeper into the mattress.
“Go back to sleep… Alice.”
The words came out rough with sleep. Careless. My eyebrows furrowed instantly. For a second, I genuinely thought I’d heard him wrong.
“Alice?”
A small, awkward laugh escaped me as I repeated the name. And then the bathroom door opened. A tall redhead stepped out wearing almost nothing. Everything inside me dropped at once. My shoulders. My stomach. My heartbeat.
The girl stopped when she saw me sitting on the bed. I stared at her while the air slowly disappeared from my lungs.
“You’re Alice?”
“I’m Alicia.” She crossed her arms loosely over her chest before looking me up and down. “Who are you?”
The comforter shifted behind me with a low laugh, and Logan pushed himself up onto his elbows, still groggy.
“No one,” he muttered. “Wrong room, sorry…”
No one.
The words hit harder than they should have.
Stupid.
So unbelievably stupid.
I got off the bed too quickly, nearly stumbling over my own feet before turning toward the door. Tears burned violently behind my eyes as I rushed down the hallway and toward the stairs, trying to breathe normally before I completely embarrassed myself.
I needed to stop doing this.
Stop falling apart every time things hurt. My therapist had explained it to me so many times — grounding techniques, breathing exercises, staying present, regaining control of my thoughts before they spiraled.
But lately it felt impossible.
Like every emotion inside me had gotten too loud to manage.
I reached the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the cabinet, but my hand was shaking so badly I had to place it on the counter before I dropped it.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
I inhaled sharply through my nose again.
Tried to organize my thoughts.
Tried to shove every feeling back into place before they swallowed me whole.
But the air inside the house felt wrong.
Too heavy.
Too tight.
Like the walls themselves were pressing inward.
So I walked outside instead. The wooden porch creaked beneath my feet as I hurried down the stairs, slipping slightly on the second-to-last step before collapsing onto them. I leaned forward immediately, elbows on my knees, burying my face in my hands.
Breathe.
Inhale.
My therapist always told me to think of a happy memory when this happened.
Something grounding.
Something safe.
But my mind felt terrifyingly blank.
No happy memories came.
No warmth.
No comfort.
Nothing.
Just tears burning behind my heart. Was it even possible for someone to have dug their own grave as blindly as I did?
“Happy memory,” I whispered to myself shakily.
The words sounded ridiculous out loud.
Still, I repeated them anyway.
“Happy memory.”
“Happy memory.”
My voice cracked apart the second time.
Pathetic.
And worse?
For one stupid second, I had honestly believed things would be different this time.
Behind me, the porch door slid open.
I didn’t have to turn around to know it was Logan. His footsteps moved slowly down the stairs before stopping a few steps above me. Silence settled between us.
Heavy.
Awkward.
Painfully familiar.
I quickly wiped my face before he could fully see me freaking out, because I wasn’t even crying anymore, I was just shaking. So I just turned my head away as far as I could.
“You okay?”
His voice was rough from sleep.
Low.
Careful.
I swallowed against the knot tightening painfully in my throat.
“Mhm.”
The sound barely counted as an answer.
“Y/n…”
I heard him step down another stair.
I closed my eyes immediately.
“I’m fine, okay?”
That was a mistake.
Because my voice betrayed me instantly.
Every crack in it screamed the truth.
Logan stayed quiet for a long moment.
Too long.
Like he was listening to everything I wasn’t saying.
Then another step creaked beneath his weight.
“You’re shaking.”
I squeezed my eyes shut harder.
Because I was.
And I hated that he noticed. I wrapped my arms tighter around myself, trying to disappear into my own body while wiping angrily at my face again.
“I’m just tired.”
“Right.”
He didn’t believe me at all. I heard him exhale softly before walking down the last step and sitting beside me.
Not touching me.
Not quite.
But close enough that I could still feel the warmth radiating off his skin. I stared blankly at the sand stretching out ahead of us while he stayed silent beside me.
That was the dangerous thing about Logan. He knew how to wait people out. Knew how to sit quietly until they unraveled on their own.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.” His voice was softer now. I sniffled and shook my head. “Gorgeous,” he murmured gently. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
I turned toward him immediately, angry tears burning in my eyes. I wasn’t even sad, I was full of hatred. And that was actually worse. I wish I could act like I just didn’t care.
“I´m thinking that i hate when you call me that.” Logan didn’t interrupt. Didn’t defend himself. And somehow that only made everything worse. “I hate how your stupid hair somehow always looks good,” I added. “I hate that your smile makes my heart race. I hate how easily you make me laugh. I hate that you saw what my mom is really like. I hate that I let this happen. I hate not being able to say any of this because you don’t even feel the same way...” My voice broke violently. “And I especially hate that you sleep with other people because I can’t.”
I shoved weakly at his chest, completely overwhelmed by the mess inside me.
Logan’s shoulders dropped slowly. Carefully, he caught my wrist before I could pull away completely. And then I broke. Really broke. My forehead fell against his chest as tears finally spilled freely, and Logan’s other hand slid gently into my hair, fingers moving against the back of my neck in slow, soothing strokes while I heard him swallow hard above me.
“I hate you. I hate loving you. And I hate that I can’t even say that when I’m sober. And you’re right...I run because I’m scared, and I do stupid things because I’m drunk, and that involves always you. And I’m not calling you stupid, I’m calling myself stupid,” I said, looking deep into his eyes, not letting a single tear fall, even though they were brimming in my eyes. “I hate that the only time I was able to say that to you, you slept with someone else the same night you rejected me.”
“I was pissed,” he admitted quietly. “I thought you were gonna sleep with him. I thought you…”
´´I can’t. I can’t fuck with anyone else because when I close my eyes, all I see is you.”
My voice broke slightly, but I forced myself to keep going anyway, like if I stopped now I’d never get the words out.
“That’s why I blocked you. That’s why I said this… the fake relationship was a mistake, because Félix is right about us.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them. Logan went completely still. I felt it immediately. The way his breathing changed. The way his fingers tightened carefully around my wrist. Like my words had hit something deep inside him. Slowly, he lowered his forehead against the top of my head.
“You have no idea what that did to me last night.”
My breath caught instantly. Because his voice sounded honest. Raw in a way Logan almost never allowed himself to be.
“Watching you leave with him drove me insane.” A humorless laugh escaped him. “And I hated not being able to say anything because technically I had no right.”
“You had a girl in our room.”
Pain flickered across his face immediately.
“I know,” he whispered. “I know. I’m sorry.” Logan said, running his hands through his hair in agony. “What were you gonna say to me when you walked into the room?” I stared at him silently for a few seconds before letting out a tired breath. Defeated.
“That I like you,” I admitted quietly. “And that Félix was right.”
Logan’s eyes searched mine carefully.
“Right about what?”
I swallowed hard.
“Maybe I’m falling in love with you.”
Silence crashed between us immediately after the confession. Heavy enough to steal the air from my lungs. Slowly, I pulled away from him and stood from the step.
“But I shouldn’t.”
My voice came out barely above a whisper. Logan stayed seated, staring up at me with slightly widened eyes like he still hadn’t fully processed what I’d said.
And I waited.
For something.
Anything.
For him to stand up.
For him to stop me.
For him to say something that would make all of this worth it.
But he didn’t. He only said:
“No you shouldn't...because i´m not good for you.“
And deep down, I think I already knew he was going to say that. So after a few long seconds, I just took a step backward and pressed my lips together tightly. Because real life was cruel like that. Nothing ever happened the way it did in movies.
English isn't my first language, so pls go easy on me.
I’m honestly scared that you’ll all hate me because it’s another angst chapter, but I think I can promise this was officially the last angsty chapter. I know we’ve had many, but I couldn’t deconstruct their whole complicated relationship with Logan being alone and depressed at home.
I hope you all understand the emotional buildup between the two characters, who don’t know how to deal with their feelings, think they’re not good for each other, and don’t communicate about it.
Thank you so much for all your support, it really means the world to me.
SUMMARY: A frustrated figure skater who transferred from Illinois has only one goal: keeping her athletic scholarship this season, and she’ll do anything to change the way people on campus see her — especially if it means improving her image for pairs skating. Even if it costs her a fake relationship with the same person who spread the nickname that turned her into “Ice Heart.”
WARNING: SMUT AHEAD CONTENT RELATED TO SEX, RELATIONSHIPS, AND DISORDERS CONTENT CONTAINS FACTS, BUT REMEMBER THIS IS FANFICTION, IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, LEAVE!
MASTERLIST
0.9 Unsaid
0.8 Jealous
I opened the beer and looked at Allie while she forced a smile in the middle of the conversation. A little farther ahead, near the bonfire, Félix Kelsen was standing next to Logan listening to Dean talk with way too much excitement for that time of night.
And honestly?
Seeing those two in the same place felt wrong on almost impressive levels.
Félix Kelsen had been the first guy I ever slept with. And also the guy I kept sleeping with during the summers when Allie and I came back to Delaware. A kind of bad habit that had become way too comfortable to end. The problem was that it had been two years since the last time I’d seen Félix. Two years since the last time he pinned me against one of the pier walls after some stupid party. Two years since the last time he called me trouble bunny while laughing against my mouth. And now he was there.
Standing next to Logan.
My stomach twisted immediately.
Because Logan was already territorial by nature. Irritatingly territorial. And Félix had exactly the kind of personality that loved provoking people like Logan just for the entertainment of it.
“You’ve been staring at them for like five minutes,” Allie commented beside me before taking a sip of her drink. I looked away way too fast.
“I have not.”
“Yes, you have. And with that specific look.”
I frowned.
“What specific look?”
Allie let out a quiet laugh.
“The ‘this is going to end in disaster’ look.”
Because it probably would. I followed Allie toward the group, and the second Kelsen lifted his eyes to me, a huge grin spread across his face before he stepped forward. Félix had never had any trouble connecting with people. Especially not with people he already had history with. And that meant that even if he hadn’t seen me in two years, he still felt close to me — like those two years apart meant absolutely nothing.
“Holy shit, bunny. Damn, you look hot as hell.”
A laugh escaped me automatically as he spun me slightly off the ground before setting me down again. And maybe that alone already said too much. Because old intimacy was dangerous like that. It came back without asking permission.
“You’re still dramatic,” I murmured, lightly pushing against his chest while Félix kept his hands on my waist for way too long. His pale eyes quickly traveled down my body before returning to my face. Not subtle at all.
“And you’re still hot as fuck. So I guess not much changed here.”
My eyes widened a little while an embarrassed, raspy laugh escaped me. The kind that sounded like hahah.
“I think some things did.”
“So you two know each other too?” Dean asked, interrupting the small moment.
Félix stepped beside me and crossed his arms over his chest with a wide grin. The second he moved out of my way, I lifted my eyes to Logan, who was staring directly at Félix with an expression I couldn’t quite tell was disgust or anger because his jaw was clenched too tightly.
“Our parents were friends. You two...”
I started explaining before Félix nudged my waist, making me glance sideways at him briefly before looking back at the group, who were all very obviously watching the situation unfold.
“Sometimes we hung out when my parents came down to check the beach house for the weekend.” Dean nodded.
“So you were the other rich kid Dean mentioned sometimes,” Beau said, pointing at him, making everyone laugh while Félix accepted the joke easily.
“Yeah, man. I can also be the guy who got his heart broken the second a certain person stopped coming to see me.”
I rolled my eyes and took another sip of my beer while Allie and Hannah stared at me with wide eyes.
“You’re so dramatic. You know what happened.”
“It’s not dramatic if it’s true, bunny.”
My eyes widened instantly before I looked down at the sand while choking on my drink, making Félix laugh beside me.
“Sorry if you got out of practice with the nickname.” Another laugh rang out — but this one wasn’t amused. It was sharp. Bitter. Coming from Logan as he looked at us. To cover it up, Allie forced out a laugh too along with Hannah while the rest of the guys pretended to laugh as well. “Anyway, my parents are gonna freak out if they find out you’re in town. You have to come see them.”
“That’s a lie. Your mom didn’t even like me.”
I laughed, shaking my head at him.
“Nah, she loved you. And besides, Allie, you know Jaden would be happy to know you're back in town.”
Allie’s eyes widened immediately.
“Oh no,” she muttered, nearly panicked. Dean slowly turned toward her. Way too slowly. Félix’s smile widened instantly, clearly satisfied with the chaos he’d created.
“He’s a nice guy,” he explained to the people who didn’t know who he was, shrugging casually. “Surfer. Kinda obsessed with Allie that summer. You know how it is.”
“Félix,” Allie warned through clenched teeth.
“What? I’m being nice. I didn’t even mention the part where...”
´´Have you always been this unfiltered, or did I just forget?” I asked.
Logan glanced at me and smiled. That immediately should've worried me.
“You never really paid attention to how I was, bunny.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Excuse me?”
“You always had your mouth full.”
He said it casually.
Without thinking.
Without a single survival instinct.
My brain stopped working for a full second. Then I started coughing. Hard. Across from me, Logan's expression immediately shifted from smug to horrified as he realized what he'd just said.
“Oh, fuck.”
Dean nearly inhaled his drink.
“Who wants shots? Isn’t that why we’re here?” I interrupted quickly.
Hannah agreed way too fast.
“Yes. Shots. Lots of shots.”
“Finally, somebody with good ideas,” Beau announced immediately. Even so, the strange tension spread through the group. Dean still looked suspiciously between Allie and Félix while Beau started handing out plastic shot cups across the makeshift table near the bonfire.
And honestly? I appreciated the distraction because the tension between Logan and Félix was already starting to develop a personality of its own. I grabbed one of the shots the second Beau shoved the tray toward us.
“Perfect.”
Everyone raised their cups at the same time.
“To summer,” Hannah said first.
“To emotional irresponsibility,” Dean added.
“To questionable vacation sex,” Félix finished without hesitation.
The guys immediately burst out laughing. Even Logan. Quietly. But he laughed. And for some reason that was worse. Because when I looked at him over the rim of my cup, I found his brown eyes already fixed on me.
Watching.
Way too calm.
Like he was trying to piece together an entire puzzle inside his head. I swallowed the shot immediately just to break eye contact.
Mistake. Because that shit burned all the way down my throat.
“Oh my God,” I coughed. “This tastes like gasoline.”
“That’s because Beau mixes drinks like a criminal,” Tucker commented.
“And yet you idiots keep drinking them,” Beau replied, offended.
Félix grabbed another shot and held it out toward me.
“You still terrible at taking tequila?”
“I was never terrible.”
“Bunny, you climbed onto a table and tried to fight a guy dressed like a pirate.”
Allie instantly burst out laughing.
“I climbed onto the table and argued with him, not fought him.”
“I cannot believe I never got to witness that version of you,” Hannah said, laughing while covering her mouth with both hands. Félix grinned proudly.
“Oh, you should’ve seen her drunk that summer. Tiny, violent, and completely unhinged.”
“Oh shut up.”
I rolled my eyes, laughing. But the problem was that Logan didn’t laugh this time. I felt it before I even looked at him. The shift in the air. That silent tension that always appeared whenever Logan got irritated and tried pretending he wasn’t.
When I lifted my eyes, I found him leaning against a fallen tree trunk with his beer resting on his thigh, watching Félix talk to me like he was analyzing every detail of the interaction.
His jaw tightened the second Félix took my empty shot glass from my hand without even asking and replaced it with another.
Natural. Easy. Far too intimate.
As the night went on and I got drunker, I completely gave up on the idea of staying on my feet.
So I simply dropped down beside Logan on the ground, leaning my back against the tree trunk while he distractedly talked to one of the guys from the team.
My shoulder bumped against his the second I sat down, and I felt Logan glance at me quickly before returning his attention to the conversation.
“Dude, I still think you stole that traffic sign,” the guy across the fire said.
“I didn’t steal it,” Logan replied calmly.
“Logan, you literally used it as a sled in the snow.”
“Allegations without proof.”
I rolled my eyes with a quiet laugh while resting my elbows on my knees. The alcohol made everything feel slower. Warmer. Easier. Especially ignoring the fact that Logan’s leg was pressed against mine.
An idea suddenly popped into my head.
Before I could overthink it, I turned toward Logan and dropped to my knees beside him.
“What are you—”
“Logan!”
I grabbed his shoulders before he could finish.
His words died instantly.
My hands slid from his shoulders to the sides of his neck, then up to his jaw, forcing him to look at me.
Logan blinked.
Completely caught off guard.
“...What?”
I couldn't stop smiling.
“We should go swimming.”
For a second, he just stared at me.
Like he genuinely thought he'd misheard me.
Then a grin spread across his face.
Slow.
Dangerous.
Like I'd just handed him exactly what he wanted.
“Oh, now you want to go swimming.”
“Yes! I've never gone swimming in the ocean at night before, and you said you wanted to do it. Come on.”
Logan laughed.
A quiet, disbelieving sound.
“I don't know if that's a good idea, bunny. You're pretty drunk.”
I immediately frowned. My hands, which were still holding his face, slid up into his messy brown curls.
“Don't call me that.” My fingers tangled deeper into his messy curls as I frowned at him. “And I'm not that drunk.”
“Right.” Logan's mouth twitched. “He can call you that, but I can't?”
“That's different.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.” I rolled my eyes. “He calls me bunny. You call me gorgeous.”
For a second, Logan just stared at me before a laugh escaped him.
“That's your reasoning?”
“It's perfectly valid reasoning.”
“Gorgeous, that's not reasoning at all.”
“Logan.”
“Yeah?”
I narrowed my eyes.
“You are being incredibly annoying right now.”
“And you're drunk enough to think swimming in the ocean at two in the morning sounds like a great idea.”
I opened my mouth.
Then paused.
“...Okay, that part might be fair.”
His laugh escaped before he could stop it.
And somehow that only made me want to drag him into the water even more.
“Fine. But since you're not coming, I'm going by myself.”
Before he could argue, I pushed myself to my feet.
“Gorgeous...”
“Too late.”
I pointed a warning finger at him and started backing away from the fire.
Delaware was safe enough for us to go skinny-dipping, and honestly, we were far enough away from all our friends and the drunk people gathered around the bonfire that nobody would care. I pulled off my skirt, leaving myself in nothing but my panties, then took off the bandeau top that kept slipping down, leaving me completely half-naked.
I heard Logan call my name.
Glancing over my shoulder, I found him already walking after me, his expression somewhere between exasperated and amused.
The cold water rushed over my feet as the next wave rolled in.
I gasped.
“Oh my God.”
Logan immediately laughed.
“Still think this was a good idea?”
“Yes.”
“You sound miserable.”
“Yes,” I repeated, shivering. “But that's not the point.”
“The point being?”
I turned toward him with a grin.
“The point is that I've never done this before.”
I glanced back at him. Logan was already right behind m To my surprise, he was tugging off his shirt as he walked, tossing it somewhere onto the sand before kicking off the rest of his clothe A second later, he was following me into the ocean in nothing but his boxer
“See?” I called over my shoulder, smiling triumphantly. “You wanted to do this
“You make it sound like I had a choice
“You did
“No, I didn't
The water climbed higher as we moved farther from short.
“Please don't do this and then start a fight with me because you had to take care of me, Logan
Logan just shook his head, running a hand through his damp hai
“Nah. We're not fighting anymore. "
His eyes flickered over me briefly before returning to my face.
“Someone has to stop you from making terrible decisions. "
“That's funny coming from a hockey player."
Logan laughe
The sound was swallowed almost immediately by the waves crashing around us.
When the water reached our waists, I bent down and dipped beneath the surface, letting the cold ocean soak my hair.
For a second, everything disappeared.
The noise.
The bonfire.
The people.
The thoughts constantly running through my head.
When I came back up, pushing my wet hair away from my face, I turned around.
Logan was closer.
Much close
The dark water moved around us as the moonlight reflected across the surface of the ocean.
For a moment, neither of us said anything.
We just stood there, half-submerged in the water, looking at each other while the waves rolled around us.
“Have you ever done this before?” I asked, reaching for his hand beneath the water.
Logan glanced down at our intertwined fingers before looking back at me.
“Gone swimming in the ocean at two in the morning?”
A smile tugged at my lips.
“Yeah.”
He shook his head.
“No. "
“Really? "
“Really..." I laughed softly " Not in the ocean and definitely not with a naked woman"
The corner of his mouth lifte
I immediately looked down at the water around us, laughin
“Well, look at that. I didn't even have to unblock you to show you my boobs. "
I meant it as a drunk joke.
A stupid on
The kind of thing that would've normally earned a sarcastic comment from Loga
But he didn't laug
The smile on his face faded slightl
And in the dim moonlight, I caught him running his tongue along the inside of his chee
My own smile faltere
"What? "
Logan shook his head onc
“Nothing. "
“That wasn't nothing
A wave rolled between us. His gaze dropped briefly to the water before returning to mine.
““I'm trying very hard to be respectful right now, gorgeous.”
I let the water carry me a little closer to his. The ocean had already risen past our waists, making it easy to drift through the waves without much effort.
Before he seemed to realize what I was doing, I wrapped my legs around his waist. My hands slid up to the back of his neck, my fingers disappearing into his damp curls.
“I love how your hair feels in my hands. "
The words came out absentmindedly, my attention completely drifting away from what he'd just said.
I smiled to myself, twirling one of the curls around my finger.
“You still haven't gone under.”
I looked at him with a small, toothless grin.
“Not even once."
For a moment, Logan just stared at me
Then his hands settled at my butt, holding me steady as another wave rolled between us
“That's because one of us has to be responsible here.”
"You're not responsible, John. Come on."
I said it lightly, leaning back just enough to put a little distance between us.
His eyes followed the movement.
I felt his gaze drift from my face to the curve of my collarbone before dropping lower right to my boobs.
For a second, he forgot to look away.
The realization made a genuine smile spread across my face.
"There you are," I murmured.
John exhaled sharply through his nose, already shaking his head.
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"You know exactly what."
My smile only widened.
The ocean shifted around us, another wave rolling between our bodies. His hands tightened instinctively at my waist to keep me steady.
"Thought you were being responsible," I teased.
"I am."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
I raised an eyebrow.
His jaw flexed.
"Being responsible doesn't mean I'm blind."
Heat rushed into my cheeks before I could stop it.
For the first time all night, I was the one who looked away.
Instead of answering with words, I tightened my legs around his waist and pulled us both down since he let me push him down.
The water closed over our heads—cold, sudden, and completely silent. For one perfect second, there was nothing but the salt and the dark and the weight of him against me.
Then we surfaced together, gasping.
I didn't let go.
Neither did he.
Water streamed down our faces as I wrapped my arms around his neck properly, pressing my chest fully against his. Skin to skin. No space left to hide.
His hands found my lower back, fingers splayed wide like he was trying to memorize the shape of me through the night.
I tilted my head and pressed my lips to his jaw first. Then his neck. Just below his ear. Small, lazy kisses that tasted like ocean and something else entirely—something that made my stomach tighten.
Logan's breath hitched.
I felt it.
And then I felt something else.
The thin cotton of his boxers, clinging to him in the water, had started to change. A pressure. A length. Pressing up against the inside of my thigh where I had him wrapped around me.
My own underwear was already soaked through.
Not from the ocean.
I pulled back just enough to look at him.
His jaw was set. His chest was rising and falling faster than the waves around us. Water dripped from his lashes, and his curls were plastered to his forehead.
Slowly, he reached up and pushed my wet hair away from my face. The back of his fingers trailed down my cheek, then my neck, then across my collarbone—barely touching, just the very tips, like he was memorizing the path.
I shivered.
"Logan."
He shook his head once. Gently.
"I can't kiss you again."
The words landed soft but final.
"Why not?"
His hand kept moving—over my shoulder, down my arm, until his thumb found the inside of my wrist where my pulse was hammering.
"Because you're drunk," he said quietly.
I opened my mouth.
"Don't," he added, before I could argue. "Don't tell me you're not. You are. And I'm not, not like you" He stopped, exhaled, and looked down at where our bodies were still pressed together in the dark water. "I'm not going to be something you wake up and regret."
The waves rolled between us.
My heart was so loud I was sure he could hear it.
"I don't think you would regret.”
I whispered and his eyes came back to mine.
"I can wait."
He said this while kissing my cheek, then my nose, and then the corner of my mouth.
"You don't have to pretend you don't want me and pretend that it is because I'm drunk, Logan."
I whispered it with my eyes closed. Feeling his lips trail down my neck softly, licking the salty sea droplets off my skin.
"Don't put words in my mouth."
"I'm not," he said quietly, his voice close enough to blur my thoughts. "I just know… if I hadn't said that we were dating, nothing would've changed between us. You wouldn't be looking at me the way you are now, and I'd probably still hate you just as much."
"Maybe not," I whispered. "But you don't hate me that much anymore, so it doesn't matter."
"Yes, it does."
I said it, and then he lifted his eyes to mine. I let out a sigh at the loss of his tongue on my skin.
"I'm not having this conversation with you drunk, gorgeous."
He said it. I pouted at him.
"Not even kiss me?"
"No."
He said it while nibbling on my neck, making me let out a moan that made him groan in return. His cock pressed against my panties.
"But you can kiss my skin? "
He looked at me. "Fuck. That's not a good idea either."
I moved against him deliberately. "Don't you want to feel how my tits feel in your tongue?”
I asked and he looked at me.His hands tightened on my hips.
"Stop," he said, but his voice cracked.
"Make me."Instead, he pulled me closer—not kissing me, just holding me. His face buried in my neck. His breath hot and uneven.
I moaned his name, grinding against him. The thin cotton of his boxers did nothing to hide how hard he was. I felt every inch of it pressing against me through my soaked underwear, and I rolled my hips again just to hear the sound he made—a low, guttural groan that vibrated against my throat.
"Fuck," he breathed.
Then his lips trailed down.
Down my collarbone. Down my chest. His mouth was everywhere at once—licking, sucking, biting softly at the salt on my skin. His hands gripped my waist like he was trying to anchor himself.
And then his lips closed around my nipple.
I gasped. My back arched. His tongue circled slowly, then flicked, and I felt it all the way down between my legs. He sucked harder, and my fingers tangled in his wet curls, pulling him closer, begging him without words.
"Logan…" His name came out broken.
His other hand slid down my stomach, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of my bikini bottoms. He didn't go further. Just rested them there. Waiting. Asking.
I pushed his hand lower myself.
He groaned against my breast, and the vibration made me moan loud enough that the waves couldn't swallow it."Please," I whispered. "Please, Logan. I need-"
"I know what you need, and i can't give you."
His mouth moved to my other breast, sucking just as hard, just as hungry.
“Just feel.”
I grabbed his hand and brought it between us. Guided it inside my soaked bikini bottoms.
His fingers met wet heat immediately-slick, aching, ready.
"Fuck," he groaned against my skin. The word vibrated through my chest.
His fingers slid through me slowly, exploring, learning. His fingers dipped inside, and I gasped so loud I didn't recognize my own voice.I forced my eyes open. The moonlight caught his face. His lips were wet. His pupils were blown so wide there was almost no blue left. He looked feral. Hungry. Like he wanted to devour me and was barely holding himself back.
But then he pulled his hand away.
I looked at him with wide eyes.
"I can't do this."
The words landed like ice water.
My legs were still wrapped around him. My chest was still pressed against his. I could feel his heart slamming beneath my palms. He was still hard against me. Everything about his body was screaming yes.
But his eyes—his eyes were screaming something else.
"Logan—"
"No." He grabbed my hips and pushed me back. Not gentle this time. Not careful. He pried my legs from around his waist and set me down in the water like I was something burning his hands. "I can't."
The cold rushed back in.
I stood there, waist-deep in the ocean, staring at him. My body was still humming. I could still feel where his fingers had been.
"You just had your hand inside me," I said, my voice shaking. "You don't get to stop now and act like you're the good guy."
He flinched like I'd slapped him.
"You’re right." He ran both hands through his wet hair, tugging at the roots. His chest was heaving. His boxers were still straining. "I don’t get to act like anything. But I’m stopping anyway." He pushed me away, and I wrapped my arms around myself, a scowl on my face.
“Alright.”
I said it while turning to leave the sea, my head dizzy and my body confused. My drunk mind was screaming at me not to be dramatic.
When I got out of the water, I grabbed my clothes and started getting dressed, and I heard John right behind me calling my name.
“Y/n.”
“I’m fine. I already told you, all of this is nonsense. A mistake.”
“What?”
I looked at him while I finished putting my clothes on and ran a hand through my hair.
“I can’t be around you. I can’t. That’s why I blocked you, that’s why I’ve been ignoring you.”
"You want to be close to me, that’s the problem."
"Yes! That’s the problem and it’s stupid."
“Stupid?” he repeated, shaking his head. “You think wanting me is stupid?”
“Yes! Because we always end up fighting.”
“Well, you are choosing that. You run away from everything. I’m not saying I know how to deal with it, but you definitely don’t,” he said, calmer now, but more dangerous because of it. “You blocked me, you ran away, you keep saying you can’t be around me… but you’re still here arguing with me.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It is,” he insisted, taking another step closer. “Because if you really didn’t want me around, you wouldn’t keep coming back into my orbit every single time.”
My breath caught, and I hated that he noticed. Hated the way his eyes flicked down to my mouth for half a second before meeting my gaze again.
“That’s not fair. You do the same thing as me,” I whispered.
He tilted his head slightly.
“At least I’m being honest,” he said. “You ran. You do stupid shit because you’re scared and you can’t be honest. That’s why you’re called ‘ice heart’—you don’t let anyone see you.”
“Fuck that, John Logan. You also can’t be honest. You only say and do what benefits you—on hockey, on a fake relationship, whoever you’re going to slip with. I’m sorry that my parents fucked my head so I can’t trust anyone anymore.”
I turned my back on him then, walking back toward the bonfire and leaning against the palm trunk where we had been sitting before going into the sea.
While I was walking back, he followed behind me, his shoulders slumped, defeated, his voice breaking slightly in the middle of the words.
“Y/n… shit, no… I’m sorry, fuck, I don’t want to fight again.”
The heat from the fire should’ve been comforting, but it didn’t reach me properly—not with my chest still tight and my thoughts spinning too fast to settle.
“We’re good.”
I pulled my knees up slightly, arms wrapping around myself again as I stared into the flames, refusing to look back at him.
Behind me, I could feel him still there. Still watching. Still not leaving.
Of course he wasn’t.
The silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable, like neither of us knew how to step out of what we had just said.
I swallowed hard, jaw clenched, forcing my breathing to slow down even though it didn’t want to.
My fingers dug lightly into my arms as I tried to keep myself steady, pretending the fire was enough to anchor me when everything else felt like it was drifting.
Then his voice came again, closer this time, quieter.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said and Félix showed up again a few minutes later with another beer in his hand and that smile of someone who had never learned the meaning of the word limit.
“You’re gonna kill her with tequila,” Logan commented before Félix even got close enough.
“Relax, hockey boy. She survived entire summers with me.”
“Unfortunately, I did survive,” I muttered.
Félix laughed under his breath before crouching slightly in front of me, resting his forearms against his thighs.
“So do you still dance on tables when you drink or did you finally mature?”
A drunken smile spread across my face as I shrugged.
“I think I matured. I don’t threaten people anymore.” I lifted one finger, making Félix laugh.
“Liar, i just saw you threatening the hockey boy.” he answered immediately. “I think you just got prettier while threatening people now..”
“That wasn’t a compliment,” I muttered, already laughing.
“It absolutely was.”
“I wasn’t threatening him, we were talking. I said, and Felix looked at Logan who was still standing behind us: ‘you were talking.’ Felix asked and Logan crossed his arms, looking down at my head.
‘something like that.’”
“You know my mom thought you disappeared because you got pregnant?” Félix said, alternating his gaze between me and Logan.
I laughed nasally at the absurdity of what had just come out of his mouth. Félix and I had never slept together without a condom, and I was on birth control. There had been absolutely zero chance of that happening.
“Shut up. That would literally never happen.”
“I still can’t believe you went from nighttime bunny to someone who gets sleepy when she drinks.”
“Mhm. Now I’m a sleepy sad bunny.”
I opened my eyes and saw him smiling at me.
“So are you two together?”
The question came out genuinely curious. I looked at Logan, then back at Félix. And before I could answer, Logan spoke first.
“We’re just friends, man. Nothing more.”
And somehow that made me lose hope all over again. Because deep down, I think I wanted him to lie.
“Friends like us?” Félix laughed.
I held my breath while shaking my head.
“No.”
“Friends like you two?” Logan asked.
Félix grinned widely.
“You get it, man.”
He slapped Logan’s shoulder before grabbing my hand.
“Come on. I think you need some water. You’re gonna throw up your organs tomorrow morning if you don’t drink like a trillion gallons.”
He stood up while pulling me gently with him, and I went because he was right.
“Yeah, you’re right.”
I stood, slipping away from Logan’s warm arms. But before I could fully step away, I felt his fingers brush against mine, stopping me.
“You sure?”
“I’m okay, I promise. I trust Félix. I don’t wanna ruin another one of your nights because of me. It’s okay.”
I gave him a soft smile before walking away from Logan again. And it hurt my chest a little because I didn’t want to. But I needed distance from his horrible charm that kept softening my heart. Félix still held my hand while leading me through the people scattered across the sand, avoiding crooked chairs, empty bottles, and couples too drunk to notice anything around them. The music came muffled from the speaker near the bonfire, mixed with the distant sound of waves.
And even walking beside Félix, I could still feel Logan’s eyes on my back. Which was ridiculous because he had literally just said we were only friends.
Just friends.
Nothing more.
My stomach sank again at the thought.
“You got quiet,” Félix commented while opening a cooler near the house’s porch.
“I’m drunk. My brain is functioning at twenty percent capacity.”
“Liar. Drunk you talks more. Way more. Including dangerously stupid things.”
A laugh escaped me while he handed me a bottle of water.
“You invent half those stories.”
“Me? Never.” He placed a hand dramatically against his chest. “You literally tried convincing a police officer the jet ski belonged to you because ‘spiritually you had a connection.’”
I opened my mouth in outrage.
“It was abandoned.”
“It was parked.”
“Details.”
Félix laughed quietly while leaning against the counter behind him. For a few seconds, he just watched me drink water in silence.
“You wanna go home? I know when you’re tired.”
The truth was that he didn’t know anything about me anymore. But I also didn’t want to go back to the house where I might find Logan with another girl or something like that.
“Yeah. I do.”
“Sweet.”
He clapped his hands together excitedly before we started walking back while talking. Félix was a really nice guy. But something still felt missing. When we got to his place, he kissed me. But when I climbed into his lap, I couldn’t feel anything. I pulled my face away from his, looking into his amused eyes that clearly found the situation funny.
I kissed him again.
But when I pulled away the second time, all I could think was that I wished it were John. So I huffed before sliding off his lap and throwing myself onto the bed while staring at the ceiling. Félix let out a quiet laugh beside me before dropping onto the bed too, resting his head on his arm while watching me.
“Hey.” He laughed again. “Relax, bunny. I’ll survive.”
I sighed in frustration into my hands.
“This is humiliating.”
“Nah.” Félix turned his head toward me. “I think it just means your head’s somewhere else.”
I closed my eyes for a second. Because he was right. Unfortunately.
“You wanna know the worst part?” I murmured.
“Always.”
I slowly turned my face toward him.
“I was literally kissing you while thinking about someone else.”
Félix widened his eyes theatrically before placing a hand against his chest.
“Cruel. Brutal. Destroyer of men.”
A laugh escaped me despite the embarrassment.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” he replied, amused. “But I strongly suspect you might hate a very specific hockey player right now.” Groaning in frustration, I looked at Félix beside me.
“We’re just friends.”
Félix stared at me for two entire seconds before starting to laugh. Actually laugh. The kind of laugh that made his shoulders shake.
“Oh, bunny...” He dragged a hand down his face while still laughing. “You say that after practically melting in his lap all night.”
“Yep, and he still doesn’t want me.”
“I’m pretty sure he does. He looks at you the way I looked at you for years.”
I looked at him and Felix shook his head, making a face. ‘Relax.’ And he continued: ‘The point is, he doesn’t want you because you only tell him you want him when you’re drunk, or because you don’t let yourself give him a chance to show that to you when you’re sober.”
I rolled my eyes hard.
“You’re awful.”
“No. I just have perfect vision.”
He shifted into a more comfortable position on the bed, watching me for a moment more quietly this time.
“Want me to be honest?”
“That never brings me happiness, but go ahead.”
“I think you two are idiots.”
A nasal laugh escaped me.
“Wow. Deep.”
“No, listen.” He pointed at me. “You look at him like he could rip your soul out through your mouth.”
“Félix...”
“And he looks at you like he’s constantly five seconds away from committing a crime.”
My face heated instantly. Because unfortunately? That sounded way too accurate.
“Then why did he say we’re just friends?”
The question came out quieter this time. More honest than I wanted it to. Félix tilted his head slightly, studying me.
“Because maybe he’s stupid. Maybe he’s afraid of holding you close to him, I don’t know, it depends.”
He makes a pause.
“Or maybe he’s trying not to make things worse.”
I frowned.
“What things?”
“Things like clearly wanting you while also acting like it’s a terrible idea.”
That made my chest ache in an irritating way.
Because Logan really did do that.
Pulled me close. Looked at me like that. Got irritated whenever another guy came near me.
But then a second later he’d act like there was some invisible line between us he couldn’t cross.
“He pushes me away all the time.”
“But you keep coming back.”
I went quiet. Félix smiled slightly when he realized I didn’t have an answer.
“That’s the problem, bunny,” he murmured. “You’d never feel like this over someone who didn’t actually get to you.”
I huffed, sinking deeper into the mattress.
“But we don’t work.”
I whined. Félix exhaled through his nose, resting his head against the headboard while watching me silently for a few seconds.
No jokes.
No teasing.
Which was almost scary coming from him.
“Maybe you really don’t,” he finally said. “But that’s never stopped anyone from falling in love, bunny.”
My heart stumbled inside my chest instantly.
“I’m not in love with him.”
Félix slowly raised an eyebrow.
His entire expression screamed liar.
“You left this place for two years. Came back now. And in less than a week you’re already looking at this guy like he’s simultaneously your biggest problem and your favorite drug.”
I frowned immediately.
“I don’t think I know how to love someone, Félix…”
“Of course you do, silly.” he answered calmly. “And that’s where you’re making the mistake...you can’t try to sabotage your own happiness just because someone broke you along the way.”
I opened my mouth.
Then closed it again.
Because that was the worst part.
Logan didn’t make me feel bad.
He made me feel everything.
And maybe that was exactly the problem.
“He just...” I rubbed a tired hand over my face. “Confuses me.”
Félix nodded slowly like he’d expected that answer.
“Then stop pretending this is friendship.”
“But he said...”
“I heard what he said,” Félix interrupted. “I also saw the way he looked at me when I talked to you.”
A short laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
“He was just drunk.”
“Oh, right.” Félix nodded, amused. “ Beacuse a drunk guy would have the sense to care whether they’re about to hook up with a drunk girl or not.”
I stared back at the ceiling.
Trying to ignore the fact that maybe Félix was right about literally everything. Comfortable silence settled between us for a few seconds until I heard him sigh dramatically beside me.
“You know what annoys me most about all this?”
“What?”
“I would’ve had a very solid chance of getting laid tonight if that emotionally repressed hockey player didn’t exist.”
A tired laugh escaped me.
“You’re still incredibly full of yourself.”
“And incredibly handsome. Don’t forget that part.”
“I never could. Your ego won’t let me.”
Félix grinned proudly before standing up from the bed.
“Alright. Executive decision. You’re going to sleep because you’re drunk, emotionally unstable, and clearly in love.”
“I hate that word.”
“Tough. Still true.”
He walked toward the bedroom door, but stopped before leaving.
“Oh, and just so we’re clear?”
“Hmm?”
“You still matter to me after two years, bunny. If you need me to beat him up, just let me know.”
I rolled my eyes, smiling.
“You don’t even like me that much.”
Félix placed a hand over his chest, offended.
“Bunny, you were literally my favorite disaster for three summers straight. Of course I like you.”
That warmed my chest in a way I hadn’t expected.
Because Félix had always been that: chaos, comfort, and terrible timing. He winked one last time before turning off the bedroom light. And the worst part? Even after everything. Even lying in another guy’s bed. The only thing on my mind was still Logan.
English isn't my first language, so pls go easy on me.
If you find anything that isn't in English, please let me know. Sometimes I write things in Portuguese to help me find my place in the story faster, and occasionally they slip through unnoticed.
SUMMARY: A frustrated figure skater who transferred from Illinois has only one goal: keeping her athletic scholarship this season, and she’ll do anything to change the way people on campus see her — especially if it means improving her image for pairs skating. Even if it costs her a fake relationship with the same person who spread the nickname that turned her into “Ice Heart.”
WARNING: SMUT AHEAD CONTENT RELATED TO SEX, RELATIONSHIPS, AND DISORDERS CONTENT CONTAINS FACTS, BUT REMEMBER THIS IS FANFICTION, IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, LEAVE!
MASTERLIST
0.8 Jealous
0.7 Lual
If your friends ever tell you they’re going to stay loyal to you, don’t trust them. Especially if those friends are hooking up with giant hockey players. And especially if those friends are named Hannah and Allie.
My life was miserable. Miserable because, for some idiotic reason, I had finally realized just how much I missed Logan bothering me all day through text messages. How much I missed his irritating presence taking up every second of my day. But that didn’t mean I was happy with my current situation.
Because my reality, at that moment, was being crushed into an incredibly uncomfortable position between John Logan and Tucker, while Allie chattered away in the front seat behind Dean in the passenger seat, and next to Hannah, who was practically glued to Garrett. Beau was driving while singing musical theater songs with Allie as if we were inside a Broadway production instead of trapped in a car for hours.
“This is so cool! Y/n and I used to go to Delaware together when we were kids. Oh my God, it’s like we’re traveling back in time. We have to recreate that picture on the pier!”
“You guys used to spend summers at the beach together? That’s adorable,” Hannah commented with a smile.
Allie nodded excitedly, leaning forward in her seat while staring out at the road through the window.
“Her parents and mine rented houses near the beach every year. We spent all day running around in the sand, stealing fries from the boardwalk, and pretending we knew how to swim in the ocean without dying.”
“Hey, I knew how to swim,” I grumbled.
“You almost got dragged away by a wave when you were nine.”
“Details. I was nine.”
I narrowed my eyes before slowly rolling them. I shifted in my seat and, in an almost desperate attempt to avoid looking at Logan, squeezed myself closer to Tucker’s side. He immediately stretched his arm out behind me along the back of the seat, pulling me a little closer. And I knew— honestly knew — that there was absolutely nothing romantic about it, so I simply relaxed against the seat.
The group conversation slowly started to scatter, everyone drifting into different random topics, and I took advantage of the moment to adjust myself again. That was when I heard Logan let out a low, irritating nasal laugh beside me. It made my eyes meet his for the first time since the morning I walked out of his room after the Delta Pi party.
Which was honestly a little shocking. Because apparently, after Logan found out I had blocked him after the last message I sent, the tension between us had increased fifty times more than it already was. And honestly? We could barely look at each other without turning the entire atmosphere into an emotional time bomb. So looking back into those deep brown eyes again was devastating for my poor heart.
I looked away too quickly, as if I’d been caught doing something forbidden, and felt Tucker’s fingers absentmindedly playing with a strand of my hair from where his arm rested behind me. At the exact same moment, Logan spread his legs even wider, pushing my knee to the side. I immediately lowered my gaze, letting out an irritated huff while staring at the ridiculously exaggerated amount of space he was taking up. I was already uncomfortable, and that asshole was clearly making it worse on purpose.
“Can you have at least a little self-awareness and stop taking up the entire seat?” Logan slowly turned his face toward me, as if genuinely surprised that I was finally speaking to him.
“I think maybe I should ask Tucker that because, damn…” Logan covered his mouth, pretending to look shocked. “You’re practically sitting in his lap.”
“And you’re taking up the space of three different people.”
“They’re my legs, sweetheart. I can’t exactly rip them off.”
“Too bad.”
“Logan, there’s actually a name for this…” Tucker started before continuing, “Jealousy.” Tucker said through a fake cough. I immediately shook my head, lowering my face as I felt my cheeks heat with irritation.
“Shut up, man,” Logan muttered beside me.
Tucker raised his hands in surrender, finally removing his arm from behind me while a low laugh escaped him.
“Hey, I’m just observing facts.”
“Then observe in silence,” I murmured. I huffed irritably and shifted farther away from both of them, trying to find a minimally comfortable position on that cramped seat. The problem was that now Tucker had removed his arm from behind me and Logan was still taking up too much space, leaving me with practically no choice except to stay pressed against him.
The universe clearly hated me.
I crossed my arms over my chest and kept my eyes fixed on the back of Hannah’s head, pretending to have an absurd amount of interest in the color of her hair while feeling Logan move beside me.
“You’re pouting,” he commented quietly near my ear after a few seconds. I looked at him, equally pouty, and whispered back:
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“And you’re annoying me.”
“That’s not exactly new.”
The corner of my mouth almost lifted. Almost. And apparently Logan noticed, because he let out another one of those low nasal laughs — the kind I’d already learned to hate for a completely different reason than I should — before shifting in his seat and deliberately leaning his body closer to mine.
“Oh, so I can still make you laugh. Thought it'd be impossible since, y'know... you blocked me.”
I immediately turned to look at him.
Mistake number one.
Because suddenly the space between us felt way too small.
“It's better this way,” I said.
Apparently, that wasn't enough for him.
Logan leaned in until his lips were just beside my ear.
“You were awfully tempted to send me pictures of your tits, gorgeous.”
“Oh, sure. I was just desperate to send you pictures so you could jerk off to them,” I shot back through gritted teeth.
“Don't flatter yourself.”
A slow grin pulled at the corner of his mouth.
“You almost smiled.”
“Did you take one too many hits in hockey and start hallucinating?” I asked sweetly. “You should probably see a doctor about that.”
“I’m just paying attention to what matters.”
His voice dropped lower. Slower.
My heart immediately stumbled.
I hated that.
Hated how easily he could get under my skin. Hated how every conversation somehow turned into this ridiculous game neither of us seemed capable of stopping.
“You should really find a hobby, Logan.”
“I had one.”
His eyes never left mine.
“And you blocked it.”
My stomach tightened.
´´I delated.´´
Fuck him. Fuck that stupid smirk. And fuck the fact that part of me was fighting not to smile.
´´Yeah, same thing.´´ I looked away far too quickly, focusing on literally anything that wasn't him. Big mistake. Because now I was painfully aware of how close he was. Of the warmth radiating from him. Of the stupid satisfaction practically glowing off his face. “Look at me,” he said softly.
I immediately rolled my eyes.
“Absolutely not.” His grin widened. And somehow that made everything worse. Twenty minutes later, in silence, Logan nudged me with his knee. I looked at him once, a silent warning. He nudged me again. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. He nudged me a third time — and then I looked at him for real, serious.
“Stop doing that.”
He smiled at me like a bratty child, but his eyes looked nothing childish at all. He looked away first, pretending innocence. And one second after I stayed silent, he nudged me again.
I huffed. Then threw one leg over his. My thigh landed between his spread legs, taking up the space he had also claimed. Now our bodies were way too close. My thigh brushed dangerously against his cock — which, through completely accidental curiosity, was half-hard.
I looked up at him way too quickly.
Logan’s gaze darkened. One of his hands dropped onto my thigh. And I touched his face, brushing the hair that had fallen over his eye away while staring into those dark eyes.
“Behave, Logan.”
I said it quietly before pulling away from every point of contact between us. Idiotic bastard. And my entire body reacted before my brain could protest. The corner of his mouth lifted slowly. Idiot. Complete idiot.
But, for the first time since I got into that car, Logan finally stopped physically provoking me. No more knees nudging me, no more purposely taking up even more space. He just stayed there beside me, absurdly close, as if that tiny interaction had been enough to calm something inside him. Which honestly was worse. Because now I could feel every detail of his presence. The warmth of his body beside mine.
His cologne. The slow rhythm of his breathing. And especially the strange silence between us, heavy with things neither of us seemed willing to admit in front of everyone else. Up front, Allie discreetly turned around in her seat, her narrowed eyes moving from me to Logan.
“You two are being terrifyingly quiet. I´m scared.”
“You should be scared.”
I said it just as Dean immediately laughed.
“Wait until they find out.”
Now this is the part where I ask: find out what?
But let me spare you that part because, honestly? They only decided to tell us once we got to Delaware. And I wasn’t even remotely surprised when I found out the “carefully separated” rooms had conveniently placed me and Logan in the exact same room. Because apparently my friends had completely lost their fear of dying.
“Don’t kill us, okay? It’s just that you two make a great couple. Like…” Tucker started slowly while Logan and I were practically cornered at the bedroom door they had chosen for us.
“Like an old married couple that argues all the time,” Hannah completed with a guilty smile.
“Mixed with rabbits in heat,” Allie added without even a little shame.
“Oh my God.” I muttered while staring at my friends without a shred of expression.
Dean started laughing while pointing at me and Logan.
“You two can’t even look at each other on campus without creating weird tension. At least here you’ll be forced to talk.”
“We talk normally,” Logan answered from behind me.
“Yeah, what you guys are saying isn’t true. We’re fine with each other.” The silence that followed was so absurd that I immediately realized my mistake.
Because nobody believed it. Not even a little. Garrett literally turned his face away trying to hide his laughter. Hannah lowered her head while biting her lips. Dean let out a loud laugh without a trace of shame while Allie stared at me with an expression way too sympathetic for someone who had just thrown me into the same room as John Logan.
And Logan…
Logan was completely silent behind me.
Which was worse.
Much worse.
I slowly turned to look at him, fully expecting that arrogant, irritating smile he always wore whenever he knew something I didn’t want to admit. But he wasn’t smiling.
He was looking at me.
Just looking.
With that intense gaze that made my brain forget how to function properly.
“Well?” Dean repeated through laughter. “You two practically ripped each other’s heads off during the whole car ride.”
“That’s their version of flirting,” Beau commented.
“It’s disturbing,” Tucker added.
“Thanks for the support, guys. I muttered dryly.
“We support love,” Allie answered dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest.
“This isn’t love,” Logan and I said at the exact same time.
Dean immediately pointed at us both. “That. Right there. That terrifying couple synchronization.”
“Oh my God, you literally talk at the same time,” Hannah laughed and i rolled my eyes hard before dragging a hand down my face, already completely out of patience.
“You guys don’t understand,” I muttered, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “We don’t work because we’re complete opposites.” I let out a tired little laugh. “And honestly? We were better as friends. Which we never really were, to be honest. So… I don’t know. We’re nothing. We never were anything, guys.”
The hallway went silent for a second. Then Logan let out a short laugh through his nose behind me.
“She’s right.”
My heart stumbled in my chest even though I didn’t know exactly why. I slowly turned toward him again and he was leaning against the wall beside the bedroom door, arms crossed, looking absurdly relaxed.
But I knew him well enough to notice the details. The tight jaw. His fingers tapping slowly against his own arm. The way he avoided looking directly at me.
“We were never anything,” he repeated with a calmness that felt way too strange. “So you guys can stop acting like this is some tragic love story.” It hurt more hearing it come from him, and I hated that. Allie immediately grimaced.
“You two are so anoying. If you’re nothing, then stop fighting like an old married couple.”
“I seriously don’t know where you guys get that from,” I grumbled, hugging my own body while staring at the bedroom door as if it could magically disappear.
“Great. Since you’re nothing, then you can tolerate each other,” Dean said, clapping his hands once before grabbing Allie around the waist and throwing her over his shoulder.
She immediately let out a scandalized scream.
“Y/N, I’M SORRY! I SWEAR IT WAS FOR A GOOD CAUSE!”
Hannah only gave me a smile far too guilty for someone who had obviously been part of the plan from the beginning.
But honestly? Was I upset with them? Yes. Very. But I also wasn’t stupid enough to pretend I was surprised. Because, looking back now, it was obvious those emotionally manipulative snakes would do exactly this. So I simply turned my back before anyone could say anything else and walked into the room without ceremony, dragging my suitcase with me. I threw it into the corner harder than necessary.
The room was beautiful. Big, too. It had a small balcony overlooking the beach, two little tables near the window, and cozy lighting that felt irritatingly romantic for a situation that definitely did not need to feel romantic.
“It’s not like we’ve never slept in the same bed before, right?”
Logan broke the silence and I glanced at him over my shoulder before nodding silently.
“Sure.”
The word came out much weaker than I intended. Logan calmly closed the door behind him before tossing his backpack near my suitcase. He looked way too comfortable in this situation. Irritatingly comfortable. Meanwhile, my brain was collapsing just from noticing the size of that bed. Because sleeping in the same bed as Logan once had already been a terrible idea. Sleeping together again felt like practically begging for trouble. I crossed my arms over my chest and looked away from him before my body decided to remember things it absolutely did not need to remember right now.
Like his warmth.
The weight of his arm around my waist.
The way he pulled me close in his sleep like it was automatic.
Idiot.
“Relax,” Logan murmured, as if he could read my thoughts. “I promise I’ll behave.” I let out a short, incredulous laugh.
“You literally can’t behave for more than five minutes.”
“That’s offensive.”
“That’s the truth.”
He smiled sideways. That crooked, lazy, dangerously beautiful smile that made my heart act like a complete traitor to my own body.
´´Listen...” he started. “I'm sorry for the way I talked to you the last time we were together. I texted you after, but apparently you never even got around to reading it.”
Of course he had apologized.
And I had blocked him before I ever got the chance to see it.
Stupid.
His voice lost part of its usual teasing edge, becoming quieter. More serious.
I thought maybe it'd be better if I couldn't talk to you. Then maybe I'd stop screwing everything up,” I murmured.
I couldn't bring myself to look at him right away.
Instead, I crouched down and focused on untying my skates.
“You would never screw things up.”
The certainty in his voice made my chest tighten.
I let out a quiet scoff and shook my head.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “I already did.”
Only then did I look up at him.
Logan's expression softened almost immediately.
“No, you didn't.”
The words came so naturally that it was almost irritating.
Like he genuinely believed them.
Like it wasn't even up for debate.
I only looked at him. Because there was no way he could know. No way he could know that I fell asleep thinking about his kiss and woke up wanting his mouth on my skin. No way he could know that avoiding him hadn't made anything easier. It had only made me miss him. A humorless laugh escaped me.
“And I understand why you were angry,” I said quietly. “I was irresponsible when it came to the drinking, but I told you… I knew you were there. That's why I accepted it. Still, it was stupid.”
“Yeah. It scared the hell out of me.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
“Thinking that guy could've done something to you.”
My fingers froze on the laces. Slowly, I looked up.
“You hit him because of that?” Logan let out a short breath through his nose. Not quite a laugh. Definitely not amusement.
“All I could see was red.” His gaze drifted away for a second before finding mine again. “And you being dragged out of that house.” His jaw flexed. The memory clearly still sitting somewhere ugly inside him. “It completely took me out of myself.” The room suddenly felt quieter. Smaller. For the first time since we'd walked in, I really looked at him. “I told you the truth when I said the only reason I didn’t completely destroy that guy right there was because you needed me.”
“Thank you for that,” I said softly. “Even though you didn't have to.” I took a step toward him without thinking. Just one. Like some stupid part of me had forgotten we weren't supposed to do this anymore. The realization hit immediately, and I stopped myself. Logan's gaze flickered downward. To the step I'd taken. Then back to my face. “Are we okay?”
“Are you okay?”
He changed the question, and I bit the inside of my cheek, shrugging honestly.
“Not really. Are you?”
“That son of a bitch at the rink got me pretty good in the ribs, so no.” He said it while lowering his head with a laugh, and I did the same. “I didn’t like being on bad terms with you, gorgeous.” My smile faded immediately. Not because I disliked hearing it. Quite the opposite. “I don't think I could go back to what we were before.” His voice was quieter now. More careful. “Because before... I didn't know you.”
My heart tightened so hard it actually hurt. Because that was exactly the damn problem. Before was easy. Before Logan was just Logan. The irritating guy who teased me at parties, sent me stupid texts during class, and showed up in my room uninvited to steal food and get on my nerves. But now I knew him. I knew the way he went quiet when he was worried.
The way he clenched his fists when he lost his temper. The way he looked at me like he was constantly trying to decide between kissing me or arguing with me.
And unfortunately, that changed everything.
I swallowed hard before looking away.
“Pretending to date was a terrible idea,” I muttered, and Logan sat down beside me, nodding.
“You know I didn’t actually hook up with that girl in the bathroom at the party that day, right?”
His voice was quiet.
Careful.
I looked at him without saying anything.
Logan stayed seated beside me, his elbows resting on his knees for a moment before he finally lifted his gaze to meet mine.
“I’m sorry it looked that way,” he continued. “I was just trying to get something out of my head.”
My stomach tightened.
“Something?” I repeated quietly.
Because suddenly I wasn't sure I wanted to know what that something had been.
“Someone,” he corrected softly.
My chest tightened even more.
“It’s fine,” I said, lowering my gaze to my hands.
“I’m sorry my mom interrupted you in the middle of practice that day,” I said after a moment, lowering my eyes to my hands resting on my thighs. “She’s not exactly used to being nice.”
A short laugh escaped him. Not because it was funny. Because he knew exactly how much of an understatement that was.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “But I’m used to parents not liking me, so.”
The embarrassment burned under my skin.
“Still. You didn’t deserve that. It’s not you,” I added with a small shake of my head. “It’s everyone. She’s like that with anyone who doesn’t follow her rules.” Logan raised an eyebrow. “I think she might actually hate me, though,” I admitted with a small shrug. “So don’t take it personally if she runs into you again and treats you like shit.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then Logan nudged my shoulder lightly with his.
“I've had hockey coaches scream worse things at me.”
I glanced up.
“That’s not helping.”
“It wasn't supposed to.” And despite myself, I smiled. We looked at each other again, and nobody said anything else, because there weren’t enough words for whatever this was — but there was something between us.
A knock at the door came along with someone yelling that it was time to go because we were heading to a midnight luau and needed to get ready. So I stood up while Logan rubbed his face with both hands. I walked over to my suitcase and knelt down, grabbing an oversized shirt I had brought to sleep in.
The moment I lifted it up — which made Logan genuinely laugh — he threw himself back onto the bed, leaning on his elbows.
“Well, no more wanting to kill each other.”
“Oh, don’t dream. That’ll never stop.”
“Okay, but since we're friends now, you have to promise you'll go into the ocean at night.”
Logan said it with a grin. I immediately laughed and shook my head.
“No fucking way.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Please?”
He pressed his palms together dramatically. Then he gave me those ridiculous puppy-dog eyes. The ones that should've looked stupid on a six-foot-something hockey player. And somehow didn't.
“Logan.”
“Gorgeous.”
“No.”
“Gorgeous.”
I groaned.
He was smiling now, clearly enjoying himself.
“The ocean at night is terrifying.”
“It’s fun.”
“It’s where people get murdered.”
“It’s Delaware, not a horror movie.”
“You don't know that.”
His laugh echoed through the room. Warm. Easy. The kind that made it impossible not to smile back.
“Please,” he tried again. “Just once.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“You're unbelievable.”
“That's not a no.”
“It absolutely was.”
His grin only widened.
Later that night, I walked beside Hannah and Allie. Before coming here, we had agreed to bring outfits that would look good in pictures, so I was wearing a deep green set that looked almost wild and enchanting at the same time. The top was fitted and delicate, covered in pale floral embroidery spreading across the sheer fabric like vines drawn over skin. Tiny beaded fringes hung from the hem, brushing against my body with every movement. The skirt sat low on my waist, short enough to leave most of my legs exposed. The fabric was light, layered, and asymmetrical, moving easily when I walked, mixing lace, sheer panels, and golden details. My stomach remained completely exposed between the skirt and the top, emphasizing the curve of my waist and making the look far bolder than anything I would normally have the courage to wear.
Allie wore a long sheer blue skirt with a blue-and-white top that pushed her chest up and left practically everything on display, while Hannah wore a seafoam-green dress that flowed down her legs in sheer ruffled layers and pushed her breasts upward. The moment I put the outfit on, I almost gave up on going out dressed like that. There was too much skin showing — my stomach was exposed, my legs were exposed — and I felt completely out of my comfort zone. But when Logan, who had been behind me pulling on a shirt, looked up and saw me, he stopped.
And I swear to God he stopped breathing for a second.
Immediately, I turned toward him before glancing down at my own body in the mirror, biting my bottom lip nervously.
“I don't care if you're trying to be nice. Just tell me the truth… does it really look that bad?” I asked, turning back toward the mirror. “Like… really bad?” I swallowed hard. “The little bit of stomach fat I have is way too noticeable and maybe, uh… I don’t know, maybe my waist doesn’t look right in this. Jesus, you know what? Never mind. I’m changing.” I spoke way too fast, rambling while staring at myself in the mirror, and before I could fully turn around again, Logan walked over and grabbed my shoulders.
“Shut up. Seriously, stop. You...you look hot.”
I looked at him, and for a second my shoulders just dropped. And somehow that’s how I ended up at a luau, sitting around a bonfire with a beer can in one hand and sharing a microphone with Allie in the other while we screamed Best Song Ever through our laughter in front of a crowd of complete strangers.
When we finished singing, we went to grab another beer, and Allie nudged me with her elbow, making me glance over my shoulder toward our group.
“Oh, shit.”
“He’s still here.”
“Apparently.”
“Oh, this is going to be fun.”
English isn't my first language, so pls go easy on me.
If you find anything that isn't in English, please let me know. Sometimes I write things in Portuguese to help me find my place in the story faster, and occasionally they slip through unnoticed.
firts taglist- If I forgot to add you to my taglist, pls don't hesitate to remind me!
SUMMARY: A frustrated figure skater who transferred from Illinois has only one goal: keeping her athletic scholarship this season, and she’ll do anything to change the way people on campus see her — especially if it means improving her image for pairs skating. Even if it costs her a fake relationship with the same person who spread the nickname that turned her into “Ice Heart.”
WARNING: SMUT AHEAD CONTENT RELATED TO SEX, RELATIONSHIPS, AND DISORDERS CONTENT CONTAINS FACTS, BUT REMEMBER THIS IS FANFICTION, IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, LEAVE!
MASTERLIST
0.7 Lual
0.6 Deleated
I woke up far too late. Missed my classes, missed morning practice, missed the messages, missed who I was because i didn’t want to get out of bed. I didn’t want to face my swollen eyes, didn’t want to face Hannah or Allie worrying about me — even more worried than they already were when I came home barely able to breathe. I didn’t want to face real life because it was hurting me too much. I closed my eyes tiredly because even though I had slept far more than my required eight hours, I still felt emotionally exhausted. A knock echoed against my door and I kept my eyes shut.
“Sweetheart... are you okay?”
Allie’s voice drifted into my room and I stayed silent for a few seconds because I didn’t know if I could lie. So instead I just said,
“I’ll be okay.”
The words came out weak. Automatic. The kind of answer people gave when they were very clearly not okay. Silence lingered on the other side of the door for a few seconds.
Far too long.
Then I heard the doorknob turn slowly before the door cracked open just enough for the hallway light to spill into my dark room.
“Can I come in?”
Allie’s voice was soft. Careful. Like she was afraid of breaking me even more and i kept my eyes closed for a few more seconds before giving the smallest nod. I heard her footsteps move across the room. Slow. Careful. The mattress dipped beside me a moment later. And even then I still didn’t open my eyes because I knew what I probably looked like. Pathetic. My face had to be swollen. My head was pounding. My whole body felt too heavy to exist.
“Hannah went to get food,” Allie said quietly after a few seconds of silence. “And some meds for your headache.”
I swallowed hard. Of course they noticed. They always noticed.
“You missed morning practice,” she continued carefully. “And about... eight calls from Hayes.”
A small, miserable laugh escaped against the pillow.
“That´s great.”
My voice came out muffled. Allie stayed quiet for a few seconds before asking:
“Was it your mom?”
My chest tightened instantly. I finally opened my eyes, staring at the dark room in front of me while I felt my throat close up all over again.
“I think she hates me.”
The answer slipped out before I could stop it.
And saying it out loud... hurt more than I expected.
Allie let out a quiet sigh beside me.
“Hey.” Her hand touched my arm over the blanket. “Don’t say that.”
“But it’s true.”
My voice cracked at the end of the sentence.
“Everything she sees in me feels wrong.” I swallowed hard, trying to control the ridiculous tremble in my chin. “Always wrong. Never enough. Never disciplined enough. Never focused enough.” Allie’s silence felt worse than any response. “It’s like I’ll never be enough after he died.” The words came out so quietly they almost got stuck in my throat.
But Allie heard them.
The room fell silent for a few seconds while I stared at the dark wall in front of me, desperately trying not to cry again. Because I was tired. Tired of feeling everything so intensely.
“Y/n...” Her voice came out careful. Almost sad. “Your father dying destroyed your mother. But that doesn’t mean she has the right to destroy you too.”
My jaw tightened immediately.
I knew that.
I knew it.
And even then, some part of me still kept begging for her approval like a desperate child.
“I just wanted her to look at me once...” My voice failed. “Without looking disappointed.”
I felt Allie’s fingers gently stroking my arm over the blanket.
“I think your mom doesn’t know how to look at anything without searching for flaws anymore.”
A weak laugh escaped me. Bitter.
“Great. So I was literally raised by an emotional Olympic judge.”
Allie let out a small laugh through her nose too, but it died quickly. Because neither of us actually thought it was funny.
“She took the person who mattered most to you and used him against you. I'm sorry, babe, but she's a bitch.”
A laugh slipped from my lips, and I covered my face as a muffled, restrained cry escaped me a second later. I rubbed at my burning eyes.
"I hate being so emotionally messed up, Allie. I feel so stupid."
Allie moved closer and gently bumped her shoulder against mine.
"You're not stupid," she said quietly. "You're hurt. There's a difference."
I let out a shaky breath, staring down at my hands.
"Then why does it feel like I keep making the same mistakes?"
"Because you care," she replied. "You always care too much about people who don't deserve that much power over you."
A bitter laugh escaped me.
"That's not exactly comforting."
"Maybe not." She shrugged. "But it's true."
“But what if she’s right?”
The question came out small and hesitant, just like my mother's voice had lived inside my head for years.
Allie stayed quiet for a few seconds before answering:
“You wanna know what I think?” I didn’t answer. Just squeezed my eyes shut tighter. "I think you’re so used to living like you have to earn love that you don’t even notice when you’re already loved.”
That made me slowly open my eyes.
“Who do you love, babe?”
The question made me look up at my friend, a frown immediately pulling at my brows as I shrugged.
“What do you mean?”
I sounded genuinely confused, and an impatient sigh slipped from her lips.
“I love you. I love my parents. I love the way Dean makes me feel. Who do you love?”
“I love you. I love Hannah…”
I stopped for a second.
My heart immediately supplied his name.
Screamed it.
Screamed for his eyes, his smile, the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn't paying attention.
“I don't know,” I murmured, forcing indifference into my voice as I looked back at her. Allie narrowed her eyes.
“Do you love Logan, or do you love the way he makes you feel?”
My stomach twisted.
“Logan and I are nothing.”
The words sounded hollow even to me. Allie stared at me for a moment before shaking her head.
“What happened between you and Logan, sweetheart? I heard Dean say you ran out crying yesterday morning before that demonic practice.”
“We fought.” I shrugged, trying to sound unaffected. “We don't work together.”
“That's not what I asked.”
I looked away. The silence stretched between us.
“Then what are you asking?”
She sighed again, softer this time.
“I'm asking why every time his name comes up, you look like you're trying to survive something.”
My throat tightened. I hated how easily she could see through me.
“Because he's complicated.”
“No.” She leaned forward. “Because you care.”
I laughed bitterly.
“That's the same thing.”
“It's really not.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then she tilted her head.
“Tell me something.”
“What?”
“If Logan walked through that door right now and told you he wanted you, would you say no?”
My heart stumbled. And that alone was answer enough. A tired laugh escaped through my nose as I turned my face further into the pillow.
“You don’t know. We seriously can’t stand each other.”
“That’s not true. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, which honestly makes it ridiculous that we ever thought he was in love with Hannah because look at you two...you fight like an old married couple.”
That pulled a weak laugh out of me even through the emotional exhaustion. Small. Pathetic. But real.
“We do not fight like an old married couple,” I mumbled into the pillow. Allie let out an unconvinced “mhm.”
“Sweetheart, I saw you two arguing four times in one week at Malone’s alone, and you were fighting about milkshake flavors like you’d been married fifteen years and were on the verge of divorce.”
I rolled my eyes immediately.
“He always starts it.”
“Exactly the kind of thing an old married couple would say.”
Another small laugh escaped me before dying quickly.
“I’m nothing to him, Allie.”
“But do you want to be?”
The question hung in the air just as the door slowly opened and Hannah walked in, a gentle smile already on her face.
“I brought cinnamon rolls because I know they’re your favorite.”
She lifted the paper bag. That earned a genuine smile from me.
A real one.
Apparently real enough to make Hannah dramatically sigh from the doorway.
“Oh my God,” she gasped, pressing a hand against her chest. “She still knows how to smile.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Shut up,” I muttered weakly.
“That’s it! Sarcasm too! We’re getting vital signs back!” Hannah celebrated, lifting the cinnamon rolls like a trophy. Allie laughed quietly beside me while Hannah sat at the edge of the bed. The sweet smell instantly filled the room. It was the first good thing I’d felt in the last twenty-four hours.
“You look like an emotional corpse,” Hannah commented calmly while opening the package.
“Thanks. That really helped my self-esteem.”
“You’re welcome,” she replied in the same tone before finally taking a better look at me. And her expression softened immediately. “Hey...”
Damn it. I hated that hey because it always came when someone realized I was about to fall apart. I quickly looked away before my eyes burned again.
“I know this is probably a bad time, but do either of you know why I saw Logan punching one of the football players in front of the Delta Pi fraternity?”
My entire body froze the second I heard his name come out of Hannah’s mouth so casually. Like it hadn’t just split something open right in the middle of everything I was already trying to hold together.
“What?” My voice came out low. Automatic.
Hannah frowned, resting her elbows on the mattress.
“I was walking back here and saw it. He was... out of control.” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “He punched the guy for real. Not hockey fighting. Just straight-up with his fist.”
Allie shifted beside me.
“Why?”
Hannah shrugged, but she didn’t look comfortable.
“I don’t know. The guy was laughing, saying something to his friends, and then Logan just...snapped. It happened fast.”
I stayed still for too long. Long enough to notice the sound of my own breathing, too shallow, too wrong.
“He... snapped?” I repeated more quietly than I intended. Hannah nodded slowly, absentmindedly messing with the cinnamon roll packaging.
“That’s what it looked like.” She hesitated. “But it wasn’t just losing his temper. It was... weird. He saw the guy, froze for a second, then went straight for him. Didn’t even say anything.”
Allie frowned.
“And nobody stopped him before that?”
“Dean tried, but it was too late,” Hannah answered. “The guy dropped immediately. I think he broke his nose, maybe.”
My stomach twisted.
“Oh shit, here...” Allie suddenly sat up straighter, staring at her phone. “Jules posted the guy on the ground on her story.”
Her nose wrinkled.
“He definitely broke more than just a nose.”
Despite myself, I pushed myself up in bed.
“Let me see.”
Allie handed me her phone.
The second I saw the picture, I closed my eyes and dragged a hand down my face.
“What the fuck, Logan?”
The guy looked awful. I shoved the phone back toward her.
“That guy danced with me at the Delta Pi party the night before last.”
My voice came out quieter now.
“He wanted to take me home.”
The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly.
Allie lowered her phone.
Hannah's entire posture straightened.
“And Logan lost his mind because the guy put something in my drink.”
The memory hit harder than I expected. I swallowed.
“I got kind of out of it.”
My fingers twisted nervously in the blanket.
“I said a bunch of things to him afterward and...”
I laughed softly. Without humor.
“Honestly, he freaked out and I... I freaked out too. We ended up arguing because we kept saying we weren't even boyfriend and girlfriend, and he was yelling about how irresponsible I was, and it pissed me off. I know what happened was bad, and I hate that it happened...I feel awful about it...but he was still being a complete asshole.” Neither of them laughed. That made me look up. Hannah was staring at me. Not judging. Not teasing. Just staring. Like she wasn't quite sure what to say. I hated that look. So before she could say anything, I reached over and squeezed her hand. “I'm okay.”
My voice softened.
“I was being careful, I swear.” I shrugged. “I knew he was watching me. That's why I accepted the drink from the guy.”
For some reason, that only made their expressions worse.
“Did you tell him that?” Hannah asked.
I sat up uncomfortably in the sheets under the weight of both their stares. Suddenly, sitting between my two best friends felt a lot like being put on trial. I sighed.
“I did!” I paused, embarrassed like an old lady who’d just been caught watching porn. “...along with a bunch of other things.” I said, immediately lowering my gaze as the rest of the words slipped out of my mouth. The second the words left my mouth, Hannah and Allie exchanged a look. A very specific look. One that immediately made me suspicious. “What?”
Neither of them answered.
“What?” Hannah blinked. “Y/N.”
“What?”
“How dare you sit there and tell us you're nothing to him?” I groaned.
“You guys don't understand.”
“No, seriously.” She pointed at me. “You literally just told us a guy slipped something into your drink.”
“Yes, he did.”
“You told us you were barely coherent.”
“I know.”
“And Logan saw it happen. And then he spent the rest of the night taking care of you.” Feeling my head spin, I dropped my head back against the headboard.
“I know, Hannah.”
Her expression softened. A beat passed before she spoke again.
“Then maybe he freaked out because he thought something could've happened to you.” The room fell quiet. And the worst part?
She was right.
I knew she was.
Because I remembered.
I remembered exactly how Logan had looked at me that morning. Like he couldn't decide whether to pull me into his arms or put his fist through a wall. I remembered his hands framing my face when I could barely keep my eyes open. The way he kept saying my name. Over and over. The fear in his eyes. And somehow that was so much worse than anger. Because anger was familiar. Anger was easy. But someone caring about me that much? That terrified me.
“I should probably apologize, I know,” I muttered after a moment. “But that still doesn’t change the fact that he was an asshole for calling me stupid first thing in the morning.”
“Definitely,” Allie agreed.
“Absolutely,” Hannah added. I snorted despite myself. The corner of Hannah’s mouth twitched.
“Maybe.”
I stared up at the ceiling. For some reason, my chest felt weirdly heavy. Allie noticed immediately, one eyebrow arching.
“But you...”
I looked at her, startled, just as she crossed her arms.
“What horrible things did you say to him? Or was he the only one competing for Worst Person Alive?”
I winced. Because, damn it. She had a point. Hannah caught my reaction instantly.
“Yeah, he was an asshole, but he was trying to take care of you. So what exactly did you say to him?” Hannah continued. “Oh my God.” She pointed at me like she’d just cracked a murder case. “You said something awful.”
“You both know I cry when I get angry, so at that point all the oxygen in my brain was completely inaccessible.”
“You cry when you're happy, when you're sad, when you're angry, sweetheart. You definitely said something horrible, didn't you?” Allie said, already grinning.
“I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“What did you say?” Hannah asked without missing a beat.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“What. Did. You. Say.”
I groaned and yanked the blanket up to my nose.
“Stop torturing me. John Logan and I don’t work together. That’s a fact.”
I muttered the words before sitting up and taking a large bite of my cinnamon roll.
“I need to get back on the ice. I have to make up for the practice I missed this morning.” I was already chewing as I stood and started searching for one of my training outfits buried somewhere in the disaster zone that was my room.
At this point, keeping busy was basically a defense mechanism. If I looked productive enough, maybe nobody would notice I was emotionally imploding.
“Okay,” Allie muttered. The tone made me suspicious, but I ignored it. A minute later, I was changing clothes and braiding my hair in front of the mirror.
“Now that you've apparently risen from the dead...” Hannah said casually from the bed. I let out a huff, because we all knew I hadn't exactly completed my miraculous resurrection yet. I narrowed my eyes at her reflection. Dangerous opening. “Summer break starts next week.” Yep. Definitely a trap.
“Dean mentioned his parents are traveling somewhere way too far for him to join because of upcoming games,” she continued. “So he suggested we spend the weekend at their beach house in Delaware. They’re not renting it out or anything.” I slowly turned around.
“Delaware? No fucking way.” Allie immediately threw her head back with a dramatic groan.
“Oh, come on. It'll be fun.”
“Sure.” I snorted. “Fun for you two, maybe. You'll spend the entire weekend having sex. Also, since when are you and Dean official?”
“This isn't about me,” Allie replied way too fast.
I narrowed my eyes. Suspicious.
“And I’m supposed to spend a weekend trapped in a house full of hockey players and John Logan.”
“I actually think it could be good for you,” Hannah said more gently. “But if you don’t want to go, that's fine. Really. It's just... other people are coming too. We'll share a room. Do girl stuff. No pressure.”
Allie immediately nodded and practically launched herself across the bed.
“Please. It'll be so fun.” She stuck out her lower lip dramatically. “I won't be able to enjoy myself knowing you stayed here alone while Will roams freely around campus.”
“You two talk about Will like he's a sociopath.”
“Because he is.”
“He's not a serial killer, Allie.”
“No.” She shrugged. “He just destroys people’s self-esteem as a hobby, which honestly might be worse.” My jaw tightened.
Because, unfortunately...She wasn't wrong. Will's cruelty wasn't loud. That was what made it worse.
It came disguised as jokes. Casual comments. Looks. Tiny little digs that were easy to dismiss individually but impossible to ignore altogether. And after the conversation with my mother, I had absolutely no energy left for someone else making me feel inadequate. Hannah noticed my silence right away.
“That’s exactly why you should go,” she said softly. “You’re really going to spend the whole summer here listening to that asshole?”
I let out a quiet huff while finishing my second braid.
“I’ll survive.”
“Allie literally found you crying in the bathroom after that Sigma Chi party,” Hannah reminded me.
I immediately squeezed my eyes shut.
“Jesus Christ, Hannah.”
“What?” She shrugged. “It’s true. He acts like competing with you is an Olympic event.”
“Because he's obsessed and weird,” Allie added. “And I’m definitely not relaxing in Delaware knowing you stayed here getting emotionally attacked by a golden retriever with an ego problem.”
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
Weak, reluctant, but real.
“You two dramatize everything.”
“You normalize horrible things,” Hannah shot back instantly.
That made me go quiet.
Because... damn it.
She was right too.
I finished tying my sneakers slowly while feeling both of them watching me.
“It’s not just about Will,” Hannah said more quietly now. “I think you need to breathe for a little while. Like... exist without training, without pressure, without your mother, without pretending you’re okay.”
I swallowed hard immediately. Because she’d hit too close to the truth. I looked down at my bag on the floor, trying to organize my thoughts. Rolling my eyes, I grabbed it.
“I hate when you two make sense.”
Allie smiled instantly.
“So that was a maybe?”
“That was a ‘let me survive practice first.’”
“I’m counting that as progress,” Hannah answered, satisfied.
I shook my head while walking toward the door. But before I left, Allie spoke more softly:
“You deserve to be in places where people don’t make you feel small all the time, sweetheart.”
My hand tightened around the doorknob instantly. Because after my mother... after Will... after years of trying to earn space...I honestly didn’t even know what that felt like anymore. That same afternoon, in the suffocating silence of my room, I did the worst possible thing for someone emotionally unstable:
I picked up my phone. My thumb hovered over Logan’s contact for far too long. I wanted to apologize. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to hear his voice, feel his presence, see that stupid smile that somehow managed to annoy me and calm me down at the same time. And I hated myself for wanting any of that.
Because I shouldn't.
John Logan wasn't mine.
I wouldn't be good for him. He's too complicated, and so am I. We'd only make things worse. He had never been mine. And he never would be. The messages. The teasing. The ridiculous voice notes. The replies that always came too fast. The way his name had quietly become part of my routine before I even realized it. And somehow, that made everything worse. My chest tightened painfully. Because maybe my mother had been right about one thing. I ruined everything I touched. I swallowed hard and started typing before I could talk myself out of it.
Me:
Ty for taking care of me when u didn't have to. And... sry for what I said.
This fake dating thing really messed w my head.
I stared at the screen for several seconds after sending it. My heart was beating so hard it was genuinely irritating. Then, before I could overthink it. Before I could delete the message. Before I could wait for a reply. I deleted his contact. Because honestly? That felt easier than facing whatever came next.
English isn't my first language, so pls go easy on me.
I feel like this chapter wasn't much, but I really love the depth of the friendship that's been building between them.
I honestly thought I'd be able to post 2 more chapters for u guys today, but it's so late here 😭
hii my beautiful gorgeous sweet princess!🩷i’m OBSESSED with ice heart omg (john logan is soo bad for my mental state🥴) and i know you’re taking a little break from it, but i’d love to be added to the taglist whenever you get a chance✨💗
THANK U GIRLLLL 😭💖
I really hope u don't end up hating the next chapters lmaoo 😭😭 and tysm for ur message, it genuinely made my day 🥹💕
My taglist is literally SO full rn 😭 I have no idea how I'm gonna fit all of you in there, but thank u sm for all the love, I'm so grateful for every one of you 🥹🫶💕
SUMMARY: A frustrated figure skater who transferred from Illinois has only one goal: keeping her athletic scholarship this season, and she’ll do anything to change the way people on campus see her — especially if it means improving her image for pairs skating. Even if it costs her a fake relationship with the same person who spread the nickname that turned her into “Ice Heart.”
WARNING: SMUT AHEAD CONTENT RELATED TO SEX, RELATIONSHIPS, AND DISORDERS CONTENT CONTAINS FACTS, BUT REMEMBER THIS IS FANFICTION, IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, LEAVE!
MASTERLIST
0.6 Deleated
0.5 Hurricane
Slowly opening my eyes, I looked around the room, my vision still unfocused at the edges, and let out a quiet groan. Large hands rested against my body, one fallen beside where my left hand lay near my face, while the other rested between my stomach and chest as his arms wrapped perfectly around me.
I was fully aware of everything that had happened last night. Every stupid thing I’d had the courage to say out loud because apparently my brain only filtered thoughts after I spoke them.
But honestly, I believed it would be easier to pretend I remembered nothing. So yes, when I denied remembering anything, I was going to do it with the straightest face possible.
I took another deep breath, my senses finally waking as I inhaled the scent of John’s cologne. A name I vividly remembered dreaming about. He made me dizzy, incoherent, and I felt ridiculous for letting a single kiss affect me like that.
No wonder I’d never allowed myself to date many guys. I had always hated getting attached, and that was exactly what I avoided.
I tried moving slowly to understand the situation I was in, but the most I managed was glancing over my shoulder, where Logan’s head rested near the back of my neck and his hair brushed against my shoulder.
The moment I became aware of my other senses, discomfort hit me. The oversized shirt I was wearing had ridden up around my waist, leaving the black lace thong I had on fully exposed like some kind of feast for John Logan. His hard morning erection pressed hot and firm against my skin in a way that made me want to moan, whimper, act like a bitch in heat. Which made no sense because my head was pounding and my stomach still felt awful. The second I fully registered my condition, bile rose in my throat and I shot out of bed, throwing myself out of the sheets and running toward the bathroom in the hallway. Completely ready to throw up.
I dropped to my knees in front of the toilet and emptied everything that had entered my system the night before. The bitter taste burned my throat as I gripped the edge of the toilet tightly, breathing hard between waves of nausea. My whole body trembled lightly—weak, sensitive—and my head felt like it was about to split open with every heartbeat.
“Shit…”
I muttered hoarsely, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand before shutting my eyes for a few seconds. I hated drinking. I hated even more remembering why I’d drunk that much.
I inhaled through my nose and exhaled through my mouth, trying to keep the nausea under control. I heard heavy footsteps approaching before I could even lift my head, and though I didn’t see him, I felt him stop in the doorway.
“How are you feeling?”
His voice came out rough and fuck me, if I hadn’t felt so terrible, I probably would’ve soaked the bathroom floor right then.
“Like shit.”
“Well, you look hot in that position, if that helps.”
He joked, and I glanced over my shoulder. Huge mistake. Because all I found was a messy-haired John Logan, shirtless, wearing nothing but boxers, with a hard-on clearly visible in my line of sight while he watched me through half-lidded eyes like he was trying to decide whether I was about to pass out or not.
And honestly? Maybe I was.
The thought alone made my stomach churn again, so I bent back over the toilet as another wave of nausea hit. Logan approached slowly until he stopped beside me, crouching down before pulling my hair back with one hand. The gesture caught me off guard. Simple. Natural. Far too intimate.
My stomach twisted again, but this time it had nothing to do with alcohol. Still, it was enough to make me throw up once more.
“Easy, easy…”
His hand kept my hair back while the other slowly moved up and down my back in firm, slow strokes. That didn’t help. Actually, it helped way too much. Because Logan had this infuriating way of touching me like he knew exactly what to do with me without even trying.
I spit into the toilet again before taking a shaky breath, tears burning in my eyes from the effort.
“This is fucking humiliating.”
My voice came out rough.
“Nah,” he answered calmly behind me. “I’ve seen worse.”
“Liar.”
“One time Carter threw up inside his own helmet.”
A weak laugh escaped me despite the disaster.
“That’s disgusting.”
“Agreed.”
I stayed silent for a few seconds while I caught my breath, still kneeling on the cold bathroom floor. My whole body felt weak, heavy, overly sensitive.
Especially with Logan still so close.
Too close.
I felt his fingers carefully brushing a few strands of hair away from the side of my face before his warm palm pressed against my forehead.
“You’re burning up.”
“Hangover.”
“Or maybe you’re dying.”
“Stop trying to manifest that.”
He let out a quiet laugh through his nose, and I hated how that sound made my stomach flip in a completely different way now. I slowly lifted my eyes.
Terrible mistake.
Because he was still crouched beside me wearing only boxers, absurdly big inside that tiny bathroom. His bare chest rose slowly as he watched me with a level of calm attention that felt unfair for someone who had very clearly woken up with a hard-on pressed against me five minutes ago.
My brain kindly reminded me of that immediately. My throat dried and I wanted to cry again.
“Stop looking at me right after I threw up.”
I grumbled, turning my face away.
His low laugh came almost instantly.
“Hard to when you still look pretty even completely wrecked.”
“You clearly have some psychological issue.”
“Possible.”
I rolled my eyes, but I still felt my face heat up despite the humiliating situation. Logan stayed way too close. One hand still held my hair while the other lazily moved along my back in slow, absentminded strokes, like he didn’t even realize he was slowly ruining me. Or worse. Maybe he did realize.
I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the unbearable tension filling that tiny bathroom.
Bad idea....again.
Because his scent was everywhere. On the shirt I wore. On my skin. In the air. And I remembered exactly why.
“I’ll be fine. That was enough.”
I nodded to reassure him while pushing myself up from the floor. "And man, let me tell you, I kept making terrible decisions because the room started spinning violently the moment I stood up.
“Hey...”
Logan’s hand caught my waist far too quickly for someone who supposedly had just woken up. My body crashed against his before my legs could fully give out. A frustrated little groan slipped from me as I grabbed his shoulders on instinct.
Shit.
Way too many mistakes at once. Because now I could feel everything. The warmth of his chest against mine. His large hands gripping my waist. His scent. His skin. The fact that he was practically naked. And worse: the fact that my body still reacted to it even though I felt like a walking corpse.
“I’m okay,” I murmured automatically, resting my forehead against Logan’s bare chest and shutting my eyes.
“Sorry.”
“It’s all good,” he said, bringing one hand to the back of my neck and gently stroking my hair.
“Do you remember anything?”
I kept my forehead pressed against his chest, breathing slowly while Logan’s fingers moved against the back of my neck in lazy circles.
That was dangerous.
Dangerously comfortable. Because it made everything feel easy. Natural. Like I could simply stay there. I squeezed my eyes shut before answering:
“Not much.”
I felt Logan’s chest vibrate with a low chuckle. He knew. That asshole knew I was lying.
“Hm.” That was all he said.
I slowly lifted my head, only to find his eyes already fixed on mine. Mistake.
Huge mistake.
Because he was too close. Too attractive. And looking at me in that way that slowly shut my brain down.
“I need to go.”
I pulled away from him quickly and turned my back, splashing water onto my face and rinsing my mouth with mouthwash. The words came out too fast. Almost desperate. I untangled myself from him before my brain decided to make another catastrophic mistake and immediately turned away, opening the bathroom cabinet just to look busy with literally anything other than the fact that Logan was still behind me, half naked and dangerously quiet. My hands shook too much when I grabbed the mouthwash.
Ridiculous.
I swished the liquid around my mouth while trying to ignore his presence behind me. It didn’t work because I could feel his eyes on my back. I dried my face and left the bathroom quickly enough to avoid questions.
“Do you at least remember the guy who gave you the drink?”
He asked, and I looked over my shoulder while pulling on my jeans from the night before.
“Evan… Ethan? That’s all I remember.”
I finished zipping my jeans. When I looked at my bodysuit, I blinked twice before turning toward Logan, who stood in the doorway with his jaw clenched and dark brown eyes fixed on me.
“Can I keep your shirt and give it back later?”
“Sure. You know you have to be careful accepting drinks from random guys.”
His voice turned hard, and I straightened slightly at the seriousness on his face.
“I know.”
“No, apparently you don’t.”
I narrowed my eyes and searched the room for my shoes.
“I do know. I’m careful. I have friends who’ve gone through that. I am careful.”
He laughed bitterly, and I looked back at him.
“Oh yeah, so careful that you literally got drugged last night. Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to you if I hadn’t come get you away from that guy?”
My body instantly stiffened at the harshness in his voice. I clenched my teeth immediately. Because he was angry and I understood why. But the way he spoke made it sound like I was completely irresponsible.
“I knew what I was doing.”
Logan let out an incredulous laugh.
“You literally blacked out.”
“Because someone put something in my drink, Logan. Not because I’m stupid.”
“Taking a drink from a stranger at a packed party is stupid.”
The sentence hit me like a slap. I looked up instantly.
“Oh, so now this is my fault?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“But it’s exactly what it sounded like.”
He dragged a hand over his face in frustration before stepping closer.
“I’m saying you needed to be careful.”
“And I was.”
“Clearly not.”
“I knew you were there.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
“And if I hadn’t been?”
His voice rose slightly, and I blinked twice.
“Well, you were.”
I answered in the same tone. Logan’s jaw locked tightly. His brown eyes stayed fixed on mine like he was trying to decide whether he wanted to shake me or kiss me again.
Maybe both.
“That’s not an excuse.” His voice dropped this time. Too controlled. I crossed my arms immediately in a pathetic attempt to hide how much his words affected me.
“I didn’t say it was.”
“Then stop acting like it’s normal to trust someone will always show up to save you.”
That irritated me instantly.
“I didn’t ask you to save me.”
That wasn’t entirely a lie, but I had blindly trusted his presence. The second I saw Logan at that party, I relaxed. I accepted the drink because I knew he was nearby. I wanted him to see me.
“Fuck that.”
Logan answered immediately, irritation thick in his voice.
“Fuck you,” I shouted back, throwing my arms out in frustration. “Why are you fighting with me over this?”
“Because it’s you!” he practically exploded, taking another step toward me. “And you acting reckless just because you saw something you didn’t want to see is fucking stupid. You could’ve been raped!”
The word landed in the room like a slap. My entire body froze for a second. Because he sounded furious. I swallowed hard, my chest rising too fast while I tried to hold onto my pride.
“Fine!” My voice rose too. “I fucked everything up, okay? But don’t call me stupid. You don’t get to act like my boyfriend because you’re not!”
His eyes darkened instantly. His jaw tightened so hard I could see the muscle flex.
“No. I’m not.” His voice dropped lower now. Worse. Colder. “That’s why I can fuck whoever I want and still have to deal with the consequences of a spoiled girl who thinks we have something.”
That hit me directly in the chest. It tightened so painfully I almost couldn’t breathe.
“Great, thank you so fucking much, John Logan. So now I’m a spoiled brat because I got drugged? This is my fault?” I let out a disbelieving laugh before jabbing a finger against his chest. “I don’t think a fucking thing about us!”
Logan looked down at my hand pressed against him before lifting his eyes back to mine. And that was a mistake. Because there was anger there. But there was much more than that too.
“Oh really?” He laughed humorlessly. “Then why did you spend the whole night asleep calling my name?” I stared at him wide-eyed before looking away with an exasperated laugh. “Why were you mumbling nonstop about how the neighbor’s grass looked greener because I wanted to fuck her?” His voice grew louder with every sentence. “Don’t act like a hypocrite now.”
My face burned instantly.
“I’m not being hypocritical. I know exactly what I am to you, and I always knew what I’d be. But you’re fucking with my head.” I growled, feeling tears threatening to spill. “Then maybe we should stop, whatever that is.”
That seemed to hit him just as hard as every previous word had hit me. The anger on his face faltered for a second.
Just one second.
But I saw it.
And that was exactly what made my eyes burn even more. Because I didn’t want that conversation. Didn’t want that fight. Didn’t want to like him that much in that ridiculous way.
I took a deep breath, trying to stop myself from crying. I failed miserably.
The silence in the room became immediate.
Heavy.
Painful.
I didn’t even wait for an answer. I pulled his shirt off my body too quickly, completely ignoring the scent of him soaked into the fabric before tossing it onto the bed. Cold air hit my skin immediately as I pulled my top from the night before back over my body. It still smelled like alcohol, perfume, and cigarette smoke. But it was better than walking around wearing LOGAN across my back like some lovesick idiot.
Logan didn’t move.
Didn’t say anything.
And somehow that hurt even more. I grabbed my purse with frantic movements while trying to wipe away the tears before they could fully fall.
“I hope you get every girl you fuck pregnant, Logan.”
The words came out bitter. Childish. But in that moment, I wanted to hurt him too. His eyes widened slightly. But I was already leaving. I yanked the bedroom door open and slammed it behind me hard enough to shake the wall. And it was only the second I found myself alone in the hallway that the first tear fell. A broken breath escaped me along with a small, humiliating sob.
Shit. I wiped my face quickly and hurried down the stairs before he decided to come after me.
But the voices downstairs died immediately the second I appeared. Silence swallowed the living room. And I realized too late why. Everyone was staring at me.
“Hey… do you want me to call Hannah…”
Garrett started asking, but I was already at the door, shaking my head.
“No, I’ll walk. Thanks, Garrett.”
I sighed and left the house completely shaken and nauseous.
At practice later that day, I gave everything I had despite the headache, despite the nausea, despite the overwhelming urge to cry. For the first time since I’d been here, I didn’t miss a single movement on the ice. It felt like I was anchoring myself to it, and for the first time in four years, I skated the way I used to when I was fifteen.
When the music stopped, the trance I’d been completely absorbed in broke at the sound of applause—not only from my coach, but from someone else too. Someone who appeared at the worst possible moment. At my most vulnerable.
My mother stood there with her impeccable blonde hair falling over narrow shoulders so perfectly straight they looked like they’d never relaxed a single day in her life—which they probably hadn’t.
Alicia used to be Centauri’s best figure skater. She and my father, Luke, met on the ice, fell in love on the ice, had me—though probably not on the ice—but my mother’s heart turned cold when my father drowned while skating across unstable ice on a frozen lake in Hungary. After that, she no longer had time to skate because she couldn’t bear it, but she decided to blame her lack of time on me instead. From then on, skating stopped being passion and became an obligation to impress Alicia Ivens.
I swallowed hard while looking at her and vaguely heard Will mumble something to me, but I only answered with an absent-minded “Mm-hm.”
I skated off the ice toward Coach Hayes and my mother and silently clipped the blade guards onto my skates. I kept my eyes lowered while securing the guards onto the blades, trying to completely ignore my mother standing directly in front of me.
It didn’t work.
It never worked.
Because Alicia Ivens had the kind of presence that dominated every room without ever raising her voice. Everything about her was too perfect. The flawless posture. The perfectly tailored clothes.
Her impeccable Christian Louboutin heels.
But her eyes…
Her eyes were always the worst part.
Coldly analytical. As if she were never really looking at me, only evaluating a performance.
“That was different.”
Her voice cut through the silence, and I slowly lifted my eyes.
“I’m sure it’s hard to make assumptions from a single practice.”
I answered—not rudely, but coldly.
“And it’s a good thing I didn’t see the others, because according to your coach, you’ve been awful.”
Her arms crossed, and I looked toward Hayes with eyes that weren’t angry, but clearly resentful. Hayes cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable with the tension that instantly filled the rink.
“I just meant she seemed more… connected today.”
My mother kept her eyes fixed on me for a few more seconds before slowly nodding.
“Connected doesn’t win medals. Consistency does.”
Of course. Always that. Consistency. Discipline. Control. As if emotion were some kind of technical flaw. I tightened my fingers around the blade guard while trying to ignore the pain throbbing through my head and the bitter taste still lingering at the back of my throat.
“I’m training.” My voice came out short.
“Are you?” She arched one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Because your performance over the last few weeks suggests the exact opposite.”I swallowed hard. Hayes immediately looked away. “Coach Hayes, your opinion matters. What do you think has been causing Y/n’s inconsistency in practice?”
“Honestly? You told us you were almost dating someone, Y/n. Don’t you think that inconsistency in your relationship could be causing inconsistency on the ice?”
“Absolutely!”
My mother agreed instantly, uncrossing her arms and placing her hands on her hips as she looked at me more seriously now.
“You’re dating someone?”
My stomach dropped immediately. Of course. Because out of all the things that could’ve caught my mother’s attention, it had to be that. Hayes realized his mistake too late.
“I didn’t mean that...”
“You’re dating someone?”
My mother repeated, completely ignoring him. Her pale eyes stayed fixed on me in a suffocating way.
Analytical.
Calculating.
Like she was already reorganizing my entire schedule in her head. More training. More control. Fewer distractions.
I took a slow breath.
“No.”
The answer came out too quickly. She narrowed her eyes immediately.
“So your coach is making things up?”
Hayes looked like he wanted the ice rink to swallow him whole.
“I only meant that maybe there’s some… emotional situation affecting her lately.”
“Emotional situation.” My mother repeated the words like they were ridiculous. “Interesting.”
I crossed my arms instantly.
“Can you stop talking about me like I’m not standing right here?”
Her eyes slowly returned to mine.
“I can when you start acting like a professional athlete.”
That irritated me instantly. Because I was tired. Tired from the hangover. Tired from the fight with Logan. Tired of her.
“I literally just had the best practice of my season.”
“And yet you still left the performance emotionally unstable.”
My jaw tightened and she noticed. Of course she noticed. My mother noticed everything when it came to flaws.
“Can we talk somewhere else?”
“Why? It would be good for you to stay here while I point out exactly where you’re failing.”
“The hockey team is having issues at the other rink, so while the renovations are happening they’re practicing here after us.”
Coach Hayes explained.
My mother’s expression shifted immediately. Small and subtle.
But I knew Alicia Ivens too well not to notice the look of disapproval on her face.
“Hockey?”
The word left her mouth almost like a personal insult. I closed my eyes for half a second, already feeling my headache worsen. Of course. Because apparently this day still hadn’t humiliated me enough. Hayes nodded quickly.
“Yes, the cooling system at the other rink broke, so we’re temporarily sharing the space.”
“Charming.”
Her sarcasm came sharp as her eyes swept across the rink like hockey players were wild animals about to invade the building.
“Mom...”
“Honestly, that explains quite a lot.”
My blood boiled instantly.
“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”
She crossed her arms again.
“It means perhaps it’s difficult to maintain discipline in an environment like this.”
Hayes was clearly reconsidering every life decision he’d ever made.
“Alicia, hockey athletes are extremely disciplined too...”
“Oh, please. They slide around on ice smashing into each other like animals while a drunk crowd screams. Don’t compare that to figure skating.”
My jaw locked so tightly it hurt. Because of course she’d say that. And of course my brain immediately thought of Logan. The way he held me in the bathroom. The way he yelled at me. The way he looked at me when I said maybe we should stop.
“You really can turn absolutely anything into an unbearable criticism.”
Her cold eyes snapped back to me instantly. “And you seem particularly defensive about hockey. Interesting.”
Shit.
Hayes cleared his throat quickly.
“Maybe it’s better if we continue this conversation another time…”
The sound of the Briar University Men's Hockey Team echoed through the hallway as they entered the rink, and while the team spread across the ice, I bit the inside of my cheek, anxiety twisting in my stomach at the thought of seeing him. Seeing Logan. When Garrett Graham passed behind my mother, he instantly slowed his pace.
His eyes flicked between me and my mother twice before his expression shifted into badly disguised shock.
And honestly? I understood. Because Alicia and I looked absurdly alike.
Same light hair.
Same eye shape.
Same nose.
But everything about her looked too refined. Too polished. Like she’d been designed by someone obsessed with perfection. While I looked like the exhausted, emotionally unstable version of her. He stepped onto the ice, followed by Tucker, Dean Di Laurentis, Birdie, Joe Rogers, and then the terrifying man who made my heart race, my panties wet, and my eyes sting with tears.
John Logan walked past us with his head lowered, but the second he stepped onto the ice, he skated backward and looked at me.
My chest tightened the moment his eyes found mine. It was quick. So quick maybe nobody else noticed.
But I noticed.
Because Logan always looked at me like he was trying to pull some kind of reaction out of me.
Like he wanted inside my head so he could tear down every wall I built.
And in that moment?
I wished he wouldn’t look at me.
I wanted him angry. I wanted him ignoring me. I wanted him gone.
But not like that.
Because there was something wrong in his eyes now.
Something heavy.
Exhausted.
His jaw tight as he looked away again when Dean bumped his shoulder and said something I couldn’t hear. I looked away quickly, trying to move fast enough not to get caught by Alicia Ivens. Which obviously didn’t work. Because my mother let out a low, cynical laugh as she crossed her arms again, her eyes following the rink until they landed directly on the number printed across Logan’s jersey.
“Oh,” she murmured slowly. “So it’s number twenty-two.”
My stomach dropped instantly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I swallowed hard, crossing my arms tighter and avoiding her gaze.
My mother hummed in amusement. The worst possible reaction. Because Alicia Ivens never made accusations unless she was certain.
“Interesting,” she commented calmly. “Because you looked at him like the rest of the rink disappeared for a few seconds.”
“You’re imagining things.”
“No. You just inherited your father’s terrible habit of thinking emotions don’t show on your face.”
That irritated me instantly.
“Can you not do this?” My voice came out sharper than I intended as I looked away from her and directly at Coach Hayes, who looked desperate to vanish from the rink entirely. “You can go, Coach. Thanks.”
Hayes blinked twice, clearly caught in the crossfire, before awkwardly pointing the clipboard toward his chest.
“Oh… right. Yes. Of course.”
Coward. He cast one last cautious glance between me and my mother before practically fleeing toward the side exit of the rink. The silence became worse the second he left. Because now it was just the two of us. Like always. My mother watched Hayes leave before slowly turning back to me. Far too calm.
“You keep doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Sending away anyone who might soften your emotional reactions before you explode.”
I let out a disbelieving laugh.
“You turn absolutely everything into some unbearable psychological analysis. Don’t you think you should’ve gone into psychology instead?”
“And you turn every comment into a personal attack and childish sarcasm.”
“Maybe because everything that comes out of your mouth sounds like criticism.”
She tilted her head slightly. Elegant. Controlled. Frustratingly perfect.
“Do you know the difference between you and me?”
I tensed my jaw and prepared myself for another perfectly sharpened blade aimed directly at my chest. Because talking to Alicia Ivens had always been like this.
A competition I entered already knowing I’d lose.
My mother kept her eyes fixed on mine for a few long seconds before speaking.
“The difference between us is that I never let emotions interfere with what needed to be done.”
Ah. Of course. There it was. The perfect sentence. Cold. Surgical. I let out a humorless laugh and looked toward the rink where the boys were already warming up.
“Really? Because you definitely didn’t let Dad’s death interfere with who you are now, right? You’re so righteous.”
Silence dropped heavily between us. It was subtle. But I saw it. The way her fingers tightened around her leather purse. The way her jaw locked. The way her cold eyes blinked once, slower than usual. Alicia Ivens hated losing control. And I had just hit the exact place that hurt.
“Don’t speak about things you don’t understand.”
Her voice came out low. Which was worse. Because my mother never yelled. She destroyed people calmly.
“I understand perfectly.”
I shot back immediately, my chest rising too quickly now. “I spent my entire life watching you turn grief into cruelty.” Her eyes darkened slightly. “Emotions aren’t weakness.” I continued, breathing harder now. “You just decided to act like they are because feeling anything reminds you of him.”
That hit.
This time it really hit.
Because her expression faltered. Only for a second. But it did.
And somehow that only made me angrier.
“You think I don’t see it?” My voice dropped lower now. Worse. Shaking. “You look at me and get angry because I remind you of him. Because I skate like him. Because I feel things the way he did.”
“Your father was disciplined.”
“My father was kind.”
The answer came too quickly and instinctive.
“He may have been kind, but he knew exactly what it took to reach the top, and that’s what made him special. Resilience. Your father never stopped skating well because he had to skate pairs, or gain muscle to lift me, or lose weight to glide better. He searched for balance because he was good. And you are nothing like him.”
That shattered my heart into a thousand sharp pieces, and bile rose in my throat for the second time that day. A knot formed painfully in my throat and I wanted to throw up again.
“Logan, number twenty-two, come here.”
I heard my mother call from the edge of the rink, and my eyes—already shining with tears desperate to fall—widened in panic.
“Alicia, we’re not even dating or anything, stop!”
I said it low but desperately, begging her to stop. I warned her, and then I heard her call again, louder this time, making Logan stop and turn toward us. Logan slowed immediately on the ice the second he heard my mother’s voice. My heart dropped.
No.
No, no, no. He turned toward us, still holding his hockey stick against his hip, clearly confused by the sharp, commanding tone she’d used. And then he saw my face. The trapped tears. My trembling jaw. The ruined expression I hadn’t managed to hide in time.
His posture changed instantly.
“Is there a problem?”
Yes!
Logan’s voice turned serious the second he stopped beside the barrier. His stick still rested against his hip while his chest rose slowly from practice. But his eyes weren’t on my mother. They were on me. On the tears I was trying to hold back. On my shaking jaw. On the miserable expression I clearly hadn’t hidden fast enough.
And worse?
He noticed immediately. His posture changed on the spot. My mother smiled slightly. The kind of smile she used in interviews and charity events while destroying people beneath perfectly polished words.
“What’s your name?”
I wanted to die right there.
I immediately dropped my gaze, my face burning as I prepared myself for whatever was coming next. My fingers dug into my crossed arms. Alicia had always had a talent for humiliating me in front of the people who mattered to me—friends, boyfriends, it didn't matter. When Dad was alive, he always managed to stop her before she crossed the line. But after he was gone, her cutting comments became far more frequent.
“John Logan.”
His voice came out steady now, but cautious. Because he understood too. Understood this wasn’t a normal conversation. It was an interrogation.
“Well, John Logan…” my mother began smoothly. “I’ve been trying to get some information out of my daughter, but apparently she prefers hiding certain things. So I’d like to ask you directly…are you two dating?”
My stomach dropped.
“No.”
Logan’s answer came too quickly. Instinctive.
But there was hesitation, because his eyes stayed fixed on mine while he answered, like he was trying to figure out which response was correct, and I looked away, completely exhausted. My mother nodded slowly, like she was arranging puzzle pieces in her mind.
“Excellent.”
Her smile widened slightly.
“So you’re sleeping together?” My entire body burned with humiliation. “Are you trying to ruin her life, John Logan?” she continued like I hadn’t spoken. “Because do you know the biggest problem with talented girls?”
The silence turned heavy and for the first time, Logan looked away from me to look directly at her. And something in his expression hardened instantly.
“Ma’am...”
“They confuse emotional distraction with love,” my mother interrupted coldly. “And men adore that. Especially college athletes.”
“Are you done?”
I asked, staring directly at her while my eyes burned. My mother finally looked back at me. Calm. Precise. Cruel in that elegant way only Alicia Ivens could manage.
“No. Not yet.”
I let out a short laugh completely devoid of humor, dragging a hand over my face in a useless attempt to stop the tears.
“Of course not.”
“You want to act like an adult? Then start accepting adult conversations.”
“This isn’t a conversation.” My voice cracked slightly. “You’re just feeding your ego.”
Her smile slowly faded. Not entirely. But enough.
I swallowed the knot lodged in my throat and wrapped my arms around myself in a pathetic attempt to stay together. My head still throbbed from the hangover, my chest still burned from the fight with Logan, and now this.
This.
The horrible feeling of being dismantled in front of dozens of people. I looked away for a second and found Logan still standing beside the barrier. His eyes fixed on me in that intense way that only made everything worse.
“You can go back to practice, Logan.” My voice came out smaller now. Tired. “Sorry about this.”
I could barely look at him after saying it. Because humiliation was suffocating me. The silence lasted one second too long. Then I heard the sound of his stick being slowly rested against the barrier.
“Are you sur...”
He started, but I cut him off immediately with a quick glance. A tired look. Silently begging him not to make this worse.
“Go back to practice please.”
My voice came out low. Broken. His eyes stayed locked on mine for a few more seconds.
And I realized the exact moment Logan understood what I was truly asking. Not distance. Dignity. Because I was already shattered enough without having to watch him defend me like I was too fragile to do it myself. His jaw tightened. I saw his fingers clench around the stick before he finally nodded once.
But before he could skate away, my mother opened her mouth again.
As always.
“Impressive,” she commented coldly. “You give orders and he obeys.” Logan stopped immediately.
My stomach dropped.
No. Don’t provoke him.
Slowly, Logan turned toward her. And for the first time since the conversation began, there was something genuinely dangerous in his expression. Not explosive anger. Worse. Control.
“With all due respect, ma’am…” His voice came out far too calm. “I think Y/n already made it clear this conversation is over.”
My mother held his gaze without hesitation.
“And you think you have the authority to decide that?”
“No,” he answered immediately. His jaw tightened before he continued. “But she does.” His eyes flicked briefly toward me before returning to Alicia. “And honestly? I’ve heard a lot about performance, discipline, and results… but I haven’t heard a single genuinely good piece of advice come out of your mouth for her.” The silence became unbearable. Logan rested the stick against the ice with a sharp sound before continuing. “So maybe we need to reconsider who exactly should be pointing out flaws here.”
My heart pounded so hard it hurt.
My mother stood completely and her fingers slowly tightened around her own arm before she let out a quiet laugh.
“Interesting,” she murmured. “So in addition to being emotionally distracted, my daughter also chooses arrogant men.”
I watched Logan smile slowly. Sarcastically. Then he ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair in a way that was simultaneously irritating and devastatingly attractive. The kind of gesture that made half the girls on campus lose their train of thought. Unfortunately, myself included.
“Funny…” he replied calmly. “She usually says the exact same thing to me.” My heart skipped painfully. Because the look he threw me afterward was quick. Almost invisible. But filled with something dangerously intimate. “Honestly?” Logan continued, finally looking back at Alicia. “I don’t think emotional distraction is the biggest problem here.” My mother’s smile disappeared completely.
“And what would that be?”
He tilted his head slightly. Far too calm.
“The way she looks like she has to survive every time you open your mouth.”
That completely knocked the remaining air out of my lungs. Because nobody had ever said that out loud before.
Nobody.
And the worst part?
He was right.
Logan skated away from us, leaving us standing there.
My mother turned toward me with a sarcastic smile and slowly shook her head in disapproval before walking away, her heels echoing sharply across the rink floor. But before she fully left, she turned back, looked me up and down, and said the sentence that shattered my heart even more.
“Your father would be disappointed in what you’ve become, Y/n. He would hate this unfocused person you turned into.”
My entire body froze instantly as the sound of her heels echoed across the rink again. The air vanished from my lungs. My vision blurred immediately, and for one second I genuinely thought I might throw up right there on the ice.
Because she knew.
She knew exactly where to hurt me.
She always had.
I swallowed hard, my throat tightening painfully as I watched my mother walk away like she hadn’t just ripped something living out of me.
And the worst part?
Part of me believed her.
The worst part.
That cruel voice in my head that sounded exactly like hers.
You’re distracted. Weak. Emotional. Pathetic.
My chest rose too quickly now, and I wrapped my arms tighter around myself in a ridiculous attempt to stay whole.
But the moment she left…I disappeared too.
Disappeared from the rink. Disappeared from myself. Disappeared from the version of me that could still breathe without feeling my chest cave in. I barely even remember how I got home...I only remember kicking my shoes off in the hallway, ignoring every message vibrating on my phone, and crawling under the blankets like they could somehow hide me from the entire world.
Or from her.
Or from myself.
The room was dark, stuffy, far too quiet.
And even then, my mother’s voice still echoed inside my head, repeating every word like a curse.
Your father must be disappointed.
Your father would hate who you’ve become.
Bile burned the back of my throat again as I pressed the pillow against my face, trying to muffle the pathetic sobs that escaped anyway.
My pillowcases became soaked far too quickly.
The crying came in violent waves that made my head pound even harder, feeding the horrible migraine that already felt like it was splitting my skull in half.
Then I cried harder.
And the pain got worse.
And then I cried again.
A miserable, endless cycle. At some point my nails started scratching against my own arm beneath the blankets in a desperate attempt to keep myself grounded.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe.
But even breathing hurt. Because everything hurt. My head. My chest. My pride. My stupid heart.
Logan.
The fight. The way he looked at me in the bathroom. The way he defended me at the rink even after everything. The way my mother destroyed every part of me that was still trying to stay standing.
I never would’ve imagined everything could turn into such a complete disaster in less than twenty-four hours. Yesterday I was drunk at a party trying to pretend I didn’t care about John Logan. Now I was crying in the dark like a broken child while my mother’s voice made me question whether my own father would still be proud of me. And honestly? That was the thing that destroyed me the most. Because for the first time in a very long time…I didn’t know how to answer.
English isn't my first language, so pls forgive any grammar mistakes.
This chapter was a bit dramatic, and I'm sorry abt that, but I'll be honest—our couple's relationship is kinda complicated bc I made them both emotionally stubborn and complicated.
I'll try to post 2 more chapters for u guys tomorrow. Hope you're all doing well. xoxo
If you want to join my tag list, let me know down below 🫶💗
We'll have more chapters of Ice Heart soon. I’m just trying to get my week organized because unfortunately I can’t live off my fanfics yet 😭✋!!
I prooomise you 🫶 Things are going from bad to worse… and from worse to even worse 😭
Just kidding. Maybe.
I love you all so much, and all your support gives me so much willpower to keep writing this story. Thank you for every comment, every reaction, and every scream in the tags 💗✨
If you want to join my tag list, let me know down below 🫶💗
SUMMARY: A frustrated figure skater who transferred from Illinois has only one goal: keeping her athletic scholarship this season, and she’ll do anything to change the way people on campus see her — especially if it means improving her image for pairs skating. Even if it costs her a fake relationship with the same person who spread the nickname that turned her into “Ice Heart.”
WARNING: SMUT AHEAD CONTENT RELATED TO SEX, RELATIONSHIPS, AND DISORDERS CONTENT CONTAINS FACTS, BUT REMEMBER THIS IS FANFICTION, IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, LEAVE!
MASTERLIST
0.5 Hurricane
0.4 Dazed and confused
After John Logan took me back to my dorm two days ago, all I can think about is stripping my clothes off and getting naked for him. Which is hypocritical, considering I used to judge the girls whose panties practically dropped for these hockey players just because they smiled at them. But honestly, that kiss fucked up with my head—because, oh God, Logan was way too good at it, and I somehow managed to get my heart racing way too fast for him.
And yeah, that included Allie and Hannah.
But something rewired the chemistry in my brain after he… honestly, I don’t even know what part did it. Maybe all of it.
So I tried to get my head straight by throwing all my attention into studying for my exam, but that only worked to a certain point because now I was being dragged by my boots into the hockey house, and by that alone you can already guess where this is going.
“Heyy, you guys came.”
Dean appeared excitedly at the door with a beer in his hand for Allie and a grin for me and Hannah. The two of them disappeared somewhere into the house while I looked around, and it was perfect timing for Garret to show up and greet Hannah.
“I think Logan’s upstairs…”
I looked at him, and the second he mentioned Logan, I don’t know why my heart suddenly wanted to beat harder. No, you absolutely are not doing this right now, heart.
“Okay, yeah, I’m gonna go look for him. Thanks, Garret.”
I said with a tight smile before walking away from the two of them, who were still watching me with curious expressions, and forced myself up the stairs.
When I reached the hallway, I stopped in front of the doors and pursed my lips. He might not even want me up there, so I just headed toward the bathroom to pretend I’d spent some time upstairs and later say he was probably coming down soon.
But the second I opened the bathroom door, I froze. Not metaphorically froze.My body literally locked in the doorway while my brain tried to process the grotesque scene infront of me.
The girl was sitting on the sink, her legs wrapped around his waist, skirt pushed up to her hipswhile John Logan buried his face into her neck like he was starving. His hand was under her shirt, gripping her bare waist, and the wet sound of their kissing echoed through the silent
bathroom.
My stomach twisted so violently I thought I might throw up on the hallway carpet.
“Sorry,” I said way too fast and way too quietly because it felt like my voice wouldn’t come out properly. And I slammed the bathroom door shut way too fast. My heart started pounding so hard it became impossible to hear anything else.
No.
No, no, no.
I immediately turned around, nausea crashing over me while my boots practically stumbled down the stairs. I should’ve known—I don’t even know why it hurt so much to see that diabolical scene unfold. My hand gripped the railing hard because for a second I genuinely thought I was going to fall. The image of his hands on her burned inside my head.
Ridiculous.
Absolutely ridiculous because John Logan wasn’t my boyfriend. Wasn’t my situationship. Wasn’t anything.
So why did it feel like someone had shoved something sharp right through the middle of my chest?
By the time I reached the kitchen, the music sounded too loud, people felt too close, and the smell of beer made me want to puke even more, but I grabbed a cup anyway and chugged it because at minimum I needed to get drunk enough tonight to erase that demonic image burned into my memory. The liquid scorched my throat.
Great.
Maybe it’d burn my brain too.
“Jesus Christ—slow down.” Dean appeared beside me, raising an eyebrow when he watched me down almost half the cup at once. “This doesn’t even taste good enough for you to drink it like that.”
“Maybe I’m trying to punish myself.”
He let out a snort.
“Dramatic. I like it.”
If only he knew. I forced a crooked smile and leaned my elbows against the counter, trying to act normal while my heart still felt like it wanted to rip through my ribcage.
“Shots?”
Allie appeared beside me offering two shots filled with some suspicious blue liquid that made my throat and my head spin even more.
You have no right to be upset.
The sentence repeated in my head nonstop.
John Logan was single.
John Logan had probably been dragging girls into this bathroom since before he learned how to tie his own skates. So why was I acting like a cheated-on wife?
“Hey.”
My entire body locked up the second I heard his voice behind me.
I didn’t turn around. I just grabbed another beer someone handed me and took a sip.
“Hey.”
I answered casually, only glancing at him from the corner of my eye before turning my back against the counter to watch the people around us — anywhere except him. I felt Logan stop beside me. Close. Way too close.
“My bad, okay, that wasn't...”
I let out a humorless laugh.
“Fuck whatever you want,” I interrupted before he could finish. “Just be careful, Logan. I don’t need more gossip going around with people talking more shit about me.”
The silence afterward felt heavy.
Heavy enough for me to feel his stare burning into the side of my face.
Still, I didn’t look at him. Because I knew myself well enough to know that if I looked into those eyes for more than two seconds, my self-control would disappear.
“Hey, can you at least look at me?” His voice came out more irritated this time. “You’re the one who told our friends we weren’t serious.”
That hit my chest harder than it should have.
Because he was right.
I did say that.
More than once. But not even two nights ago, none of our late-night messages teasing each other had prepared me for this crap.
Finally, I turned my head to look at him.
Mistake. Huge mistake.
His hair was messy. His mouth still red. And I hated the fact my brain immediately noticed it was probably because of the girl in the bathroom. My stomach twisted again.
“You’re fucking right, John Logan. I fucking said that.” My voice came out sharper than I intended. “I’m just telling you to be careful because nobody talks shit about you. They’d never talk shit about you.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. Because we both knew I was right.
Guys like John Logan got called legends.
Girls like me became group chat material.
“But whatever,” I continued before he could respond. “Do whatever you want too. I wanna dance.”
I shoved the empty bottle against his chest and walked away before my pride decided to completely collapse right there in front of him.
I wasn’t that drunk, I think.
But definitely dizzy from how insanely fast I’d downed three beers almost back-to-back. And honestly? Those shots Allie gave me were ridiculously strong.
The music sounded louder now, the floor less steady, and the house lights flashed way too fast while I pushed through the crowd.
Someone grabbed my hand.
I didn’t even really look at who it was before letting the guy pull me into the middle of the people dancing.
Because honestly?
Anything was better than standing near John Logan while my dignity slowly died.
So I started dancing.
Not exactly well.
Just… loose.
Driven by the dangerous mix of alcohol, humiliation, and anger.
And maybe I was trying way too hard to look unaffected.
Maybe way too hard.
Because when I laughed loudly at something stupid the guy in front of me said, I immediately felt that stare again. Heavy and burning the back of my neck.
I accidentally lifted my eyes.
Logan was standing on the other side of the room.
Watching me.
Without looking away.
His jaw clenched so tightly I could tell even from across the room.
And for the first time since I ran out of that bathroom…The anger inside me faded just enough for another, worse feeling to appear. Satisfaction.
“Want another drink?”
The guy in front of me — Ethan… Evan? — asked with a smile, and I nodded without thinking much.
“Definitely.”
He came back a few minutes later with another red cup, and I immediately accepted it, taking a long sip while the music made the floor vibrate under my feet. It tasted weird.
Stronger. But honestly? After three beers and suspicious blue shots from Allie, I no longer trusted my own taste buds.
So I kept dancing anyway.
Except a few minutes later, something started feeling… wrong.
Not drunk, but different.
My body got heavy way faster than it should’ve. My legs felt slow and my head strangely foggy, like someone had stuffed my brain full of cotton. I frowned, trying to focus on the guy talking to me.
Hard.
Way too hard.
“You okay?” he asked, leaning his face closer to mine.
I nodded automatically.
I think.
Wasn’t even sure.
The whole room felt distant now. Muffled. Lights flashing way too slowly.
Then I felt his hands grip my waist.
My brain couldn’t form a complete thought anymore.
Just that horrible feeling growing inside my chest that something was deeply wrong.
“I think I should take you home.”
His voice came way too close to my ear, and before I could really answer, he was already pulling my hand, guiding me through the crowd toward the door. I stumbled slightly over my own feet trying to keep up.
“Wait…”
Even my own voice sounded distant. Slow. The lights in the house blinked too slowly, and my heart started pounding when I realized I didn’t even know where Allie or Hannah were anymore. Then, while he kept pulling me along, I looked over my shoulder. And found John Logan staring directly at me. His brows furrowed immediately. Confusion first. Then realization. It happened so fast that even with my brain moving in slow motion, I could see the entire shift happen across his face. Two seconds later he was already walking toward us.
Fast. Way too fast.
“She’s leaving, man.”
The guy spoke before Logan even got close, tightening his grip on my hand a little more. Huge mistake. Because Logan’s eyes dropped directly to that detail. And instantly darkened.
“She’s staying.”
His voice came out firm.
Cold.
That dangerous kind of cold that made even me shiver.
The guy let out a nervous laugh.
“Relax, she’s with me.”
“No,” Logan answered immediately. “She’s not.” My heart beat weirdly. Maybe because of the alcohol.
Maybe because of the way he was looking at me now.
Way too attentive. Way too worried.
His eyes scanned over my face quickly before narrowing.
“Hey.” He stepped closer. “Look at me for a second.”
I tried to focus on him.
Was hard. Way too hard.
“Logan…”
My tongue felt heavy in my mouth.
His expression hardened immediately.
“What did she drink?”
“Nothing besides what everyone else is drinking,” the guy answered way too quickly. Logan completely ignored him. All his attention locked onto me.
“Can you walk by yourself?”
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.
Because honestly? I wasn’t even sure.
His hand immediately closed around my arm, gently pulling me to his side and moving my body away from the other guy.
Protective. Instinctive.
“Okay,” Logan said quietly, more to himself than to me. “Okay. We’re getting out of here.”
“Dude, seriously—”
“Walk away before I lose my patience.”
The silence afterward felt heavy.
The guy hesitated.
Then looked at me.
Then at Logan.
And backed off.
A fucking coward.
The second he disappeared into the crowd, my legs genuinely buckled.
Logan immediately caught me by the waist before I could fall.
“Jesus Christ.”
His hand tightened hard against my waist while he looked over my face again, clearly trying to figure out how bad this was.
“Can you hear me?”
I nodded slowly. I think.
His eyes closed for a second like he was trying to control his anger.
Then he looked back at me.
“I’m only not killing that guy right now because you’re here, baby.”
He muttered mostly to himself, and all I could do after hearing the words through the fog in my brain was blink at him in confusion.
“Okay.” Logan spoke quietly, tightening his grip on my waist when my legs nearly gave out again. “We’re going upstairs.”
“Don’t wanna go home…” I murmured automatically, my forehead resting briefly against his chest because holding my head up straight was starting to feel way too difficult. I felt his body tense. “I know.”
His voice came out strangely gentle. He slipped my arm over his shoulders before guiding me through the crowd, completely ignoring
the curious looks from everyone around us. Or maybe I was just paranoid. Everything felt far away now. Muffled. What the fuck.
“Logan…” I said slowly while trying to make it up the first stair without tripping. “I think the floor is… moving.”
I heard him let out a short breath through his nose.
Not exactly a laugh.
More like an incredulous and worried sound at the same time.
“Yeah, I noticed.”
His hand never left my waist for even a second while he guided me down the upstairs hallway.
The same hallway.
The same hallway where I’d opened that stupid door twenty minutes ago.
My stomach twisted immediately. Logan opened the door quickly and led me inside before shutting it behind us, muffling some of the deafening noise from the party. The relative silence made my head spin even more.
“Sit here.”
I hesitated and glared at the bed like I was offended by its existence.
“I don’t want to.”
“What? Y/n, sit on the bed.”
“I don’t wanna sit on the bed where you fucked other girls. That’s disgusting.”
My words came out slurred. Logan opened his mouth. Then closed it again. Like my comment had caught him completely off guard.
“I don’t wanna sit on the bed where you fucked other girls. That’s disgusting.” I repeated, my face twisting into a frown. My tongue felt heavy and slow, but apparently still clear enough because his eyes widened slightly before an incredulous expression crossed his face.
“Jesus Christ. Just sit on the bed, gorgeous .”
“Did you fuck her in here earlier too? Did you make her come all over these sheets? Oh my God, I wanna throw up.”
I made a face of disgust.
“No, I didn’t. Now come sit down, gorgeous .”
He gently encouraged me toward the edge of the bed.
When he turned toward his closet to grab something, I stared at him before falling backward dramatically onto the mattress, staring up at the ceiling while mumbling:
“Her grass is so much greener than mine.”
Logan froze mid-motion. Slowly turned his head to look at me over his shoulder while I stayed sprawled across his bed staring at the ceiling like I’d just uncovered the saddest secret in the universe.
“Her grass is so much greener than mine.”
For a second he just stared at me. Confused. Then incredulous.
He blinked a few times, clearly trying to follow my completely destroyed train of thought.
“You’re talking about the girl in the bathroom?”
“Mhmm.”
My head felt too heavy to lift, so I kept staring at the ceiling while I felt the mattress dip slightly when he moved closer to the bed.
“Are you high or philosophizing?”
“Maybe both.”
I heard Logan let out another short breath through his nose.
Not exactly a laugh. More like that involuntary sound someone makes when they’re trying not to find something funny while still being worried.
“You make absolutely no sense when you’re like this.”
“I do too,” I argued immediately, even though my voice dragged. “Her grass is green because you wanted to eat her alive in the bathroom.”
The silence afterward was so complete that for a second I thought maybe I’d only said it in my head. But then I heard Logan inhale deeply.
Slowly.
Like someone desperately trying to keep his brain functioning properly.
I squeezed my eyes shut against the dizziness while sinking deeper into the mattress.
“And she came…” I muttered again, my voice almost turning into a sad little grumble. “God, her grass is so much greener than mine because she came. I haven’t come in so long.”
A choked sound escaped him.
Not quite a cough.
Not quite a laugh.
More like pure masculine suffering.
“Okay,” his voice came out rough. “I think we’ve reached the part of the night where you stop talking.”
“I can’t stop,” I complained immediately without opening my eyes. “My head’s too loud.”
I heard footsteps.
Then felt the mattress sink a little more when he sat near my legs.
“You’re not gonna die from lack of orgasms, drama queen.”
I slowly opened one eye.
“You don’t know that.”
His jaw tightened so hard I was almost sure he was trying not to laugh.
Or maybe trying not to lose his mind. Hard to tell.
“And if I die tomorrow without an orgasm, I’ll die sad because I never got to sit on dick.” Logan went completely still.
For one entire second.
Two. Then he dragged a hand slowly down his face, staring up at the ceiling like he was asking God directly for patience.
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
The complaint came out low.
Rough.
And honestly? A little desperate.
I smiled weakly without opening my eyes.
“See? You think it’s sad too.”
“No, I think it’s dangerous for you to keep talking.”
I felt the mattress move when he stood up again and heard drawers opening.
“You’re mad at me,” I murmured suddenly, my voice quieter now.
Silence.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“You almost left this house with a guy who probably put something in your drink. I’m scared, not mad.”
That cut through the fog in my brain just enough to make my chest tighten. I slowly opened my eyes.
Logan stood near the dresser with a bottle of water in his hand, clearly trying to look calm. But his shoulders were way too tense. His jaw locked way too tight.
“I ruined your night,” I said softly.
He turned immediately.
“Are you kidding me right now?”
I shrugged slowly.
“You were with her. Then I showed up freaking out. Then I almost got kidnapped. That’s a lot of events for a nigth.”
An incredulous sound escaped him.
Then Logan crossed the room again and sat on the edge of the bed near my waist.
“Listen here, drama queen,” he said firmly. “You didn’t ruin a damn thing.”
My heart beat weirdly.
Because he sounded serious.
Really serious.
“You were kissing her. I wish you were kissing me.”
“And I stopped the second you opened that door, because I wanted it to be you.”
I blinked slowly at him.
“No, you stopped because I interrupted.”
“Because you looked like you were gonna throw up staring at me and trying to forget you wouldn’t work anymore, because I was already seeing your face in hers.”
Okay.
That… that made my stomach flip in a completely different way.
I swallowed hard. Difficult.
“Still. Her grass is greener.”
This time Logan actually let out a short laugh through his nose.
A real one.
“You’re obsessed with this terrible metaphor, huh?”
“It’s not terrible. It’s deep.”
“It’s alcohol and possible intoxication talking.”
I completely ignored him.
“I bet she moaned pretty too.”
His head immediately fell back.
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
“You,” he answered, pointing at me. “You are the problem.”
I smiled crookedly.
Small.
“Come on, put this on.”
He held out one of his T-shirts to me.
I tried to sit up properly to grab it from his hand.
Terrible idea.
The second I leaned forward, the entire room spun violently and my body went with it.
“Woah—shit.”
I stood up from the bed with absolutely no balance and bent down to pull off my pants before
trying to take off my shirt to put Logan’s on, but all I managed to do was get stuck in it while
staring at his back after he turned around to give me privacy.
“Maybe you could help me?”
The silence behind me became immediate.
Heavy.
I was still halfway trapped in my own shirt, stumbling barefoot in the middle of his room, when I heard Logan inhale slowly. Like someone counting to ten so he wouldn’t lose his mind.
“You have no idea what you’re asking me right now, do you?”
My dizzy head turned slowly toward him. His broad back still facing me. Still trying to give me privacy.
Which honestly felt ridiculous considering I was probably basically naked behind him at that point.
“Maybe not,” I admitted honestly. “But I’m gonna fall if I try by myself again.”
He let out a humorless little laugh.
Then dragged a hand over the back of his neck before finally turning around.
And...Oh. My drunk brain immediately registered the change in his face.
That wrecked expression.
His eyes automatically dropping down my body before he clearly forced them back to my face.Because now I was standing there in black lace lingerie and half tangled in a crooked shirt.
“Holy shit.”
The complaint came out low.
Almost pained.
I tried pulling the shirt off by myself again.
Failed miserably.
“I think I’m losing the battle against fabric.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
He crossed the room slowly.
Carefully.
Like I was some kind of psychological trap specifically designed to destroy him. The second he stopped in front of me, I felt the heat from his body immediately.
Huge mistake because my brain was already slow and now it just seemed to melt entirely.
“Lift your arms for me, gorgeous .” I obeyed immediately.
His fingers carefully grabbed the hem of my shirt and slowly pulled the fabric over my head. But in the process, his knuckles brushed against my waist.
Bare skin. And Logan froze completely. My breath caught without permission.
His eyes shut for one painfully short second. Like that tiny touch alone had been enough to destroy the rest of his self-control.
“You’re shaking,” I murmured without thinking.
His eyes opened immediately.
Dark.
Fucking dark.
“Because this situation is testing me spiritually.”
A drunk laugh escaped me.
Weak.
“You sound like a divorced priest sometimes.”
His mouth almost smiled.
Almost.
Then he quickly pulled his T-shirt down over my head before I could keep talking nonsense.
The fabric fell to mid-thigh.
Comfortable.
Warm.
“I think I need to lose weight so my grass gets greener. Should I do that, John?”
I asked while stretching my arms up around his shoulders, absentmindedly playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.
“Your grass is already green as fuck, gorgeous .”
His hand slid slowly from my waist to my arm, guiding me back toward the bed.
“Lie down for me, drama queen.”
“You boss me around too much.”
“Because apparently someone in this room needs to make smart decisions tonight.”
I smiled faintly while letting myself fall back onto the mattress. And even with my head spinning like crazy, I still noticed the way Logan pulled the blanket up to my waist with almost irritated care. Like he was angry about the scare.
Mad at himself. Mad at the whole damn world.
“John…?”
I swallowed against the pillow before repeating softer this time:
“Would you fuck me?”
His jaw tightened so hard I could actually see the muscle jump.
Then he let out a completely humorless laugh.
Short.
Disbelieving.
“You are literally trying to kill me.”
I smiled lazily.
“Is that a maybe?”
“That’s a shut the hell up immediately before I lose the last functioning brain cells I have left.”
His voice came out rough.
Low.
Dangerous.
My stomach flipped completely.
Because even high out of my mind, I could still tell the way he was looking at me now. It wasn’t the irritated look from before. Or the worried one. It was worse. Way worse. It was hunger. Pure. Raw.
His eyes involuntarily dropped down the oversized shirt covering my body before he shut them for a second like he hated himself for it.
“You’re way too pretty for this conversation to be happening tonight.”
My heart stumbled hard inside my chest.
“So you want to?”
He slowly exhaled through his nose.
“gorgeous …”
“Just answer.”
Logan dragged a hand over the back of his neck, clearly trying to organize his thoughts while I watched him half sunk into the mattress and the haze of alcohol.
“You want the honest answer?”
I nodded slowly.
Mistake.
Huge mistake.
Because his entire expression changed.
Darker.
More honest.
More dangerous.
He took one step closer until he was standing way too close to the bed.
“Yes,” he finally answered, voice too low. “So fucking bad.”
My entire body heated instantly.
Even drunk.
Even wrecked.
Because that didn’t sound like a joke.
It sounded like a confession.
His eyes locked onto mine while he continued:
“But you’re out of your mind right now. So it’s not happening.”
I blinked slowly.
“John…”
He let out a tired sound through his nose without taking his eyes off the water bottle he was opening.
“Hm?”
“You’re annoyingly ethical sometimes. Because I said I wanted to come.” The complaint dragged against the pillow. Logan literally closed his eyes for one full second before answering:
“Good luck with that in your dreams.”
A sleepy little laugh escaped me. Then silence settled over the room again while I watched him walk to the desk and leave the bottle there like he needed to keep his hands busy so he wouldn’t lose his mind.
“John…”
“You talk way too much for someone almost unconscious.”
I completely ignored him.
“Are you going back to the party?”
“I’m not, Y/n.”
I looked at him then curled deeper into the blankets.
“Can you stay here with me? I don’t want Ethan… Evan, whatever… coming back.”
His fingers wrapped around mine automatically the second I touched his hand.
“He won’t. I promise.”
His voice came out low in that calm way that felt like he was trying to anchor me to reality.
“Good,” I mumbled sleepily. “I didn’t like him.”
Logan let out a short breath through his nose.
“Believe me, the feeling’s mutual.”
I smiled faintly before gently tugging on his hand.
“Stay here.”
He looked at me. Then at the bed. Then back at me like he was arguing with himself for the thousandth time that night.
“Y/n…”
“Just until I fall asleep.”
The way I said it — tired, groggy, small underneath the blankets — seemed to completely destroy whatever resistance he still had left. Because his shoulders finally relaxed.
“You’re a walking problem, you know that?”
“Mhmm.”
The mattress slowly dipped when he gave in and laid down beside me on top of the blankets, keeping a careful distance at first. It lasted exactly three seconds. Because I immediately curled against him, resting my head on his chest like my body had already decided where it wanted to be. I felt Logan go still instantly. Completely still. My arm lazily wrapped around his waist while I let out a tired sigh against his shirt.
Comfortable and safe.
Once again his heart was beating way too hard beneath my cheek and I realized how hard I liked to hear that.
“I like your heart. It’s beating.”
“That’s usually considered a good sign.”
He teased, and I laughed softly.
“John?”
But his hand was already automatically moving up my back in a slow, distracted caress. Like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. I closed my eyes immediately when I felt his fingers slowly moving over the oversized shirt I was wearing.
“This is nice.”
I heard Logan laugh quietly through his nose.
“Do you literally say everything that goes through your head?”
“Not everything.”
“Thank God.”
I smiled faintly against his chest. His smell was everywhere now — shampoo, soap, a faint trace of beer — and my foggy brain immediately decided that was way too dangerous for someone who was already emotionally wrecked.
“John…?”
“Hm?”
His hand kept absentmindedly stroking my back while the room finally seemed to stop spinning. He immediately let out a tired laugh. “You’re gonna keep saying my name until you pass out, huh?”
“Maybe. I like your name.”
“Alright, gorgeous , go to sleep now.” But this time there was something dangerously soft in his voice.
SUMMARY: A frustrated figure skater who transferred from Illinois has only one goal: keeping her athletic scholarship this season, and she’ll do anything to change the way people on campus see her — especially if it means improving her image for pairs skating. Even if it costs her a fake relationship with the same person who spread the nickname that turned her into “Ice Heart.”
WARNING: SMUT AHEAD CONTENT RELATED TO SEX, RELATIONSHIPS, AND DISORDERS CONTENT CONTAINS FACTS, BUT REMEMBER THIS IS FANFICTION, IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, LEAVE!
MASTERLIST
0.4 here
0.3 Confused
Things have been confusing. Not the kind of confusing where I don’t know what to do, but the kind where I don’t know what I’m doing. Because I really don’t.
John Logan and I haven’t seen each other in three weeks, we haven’t given a single sign that we’re together because guess what? We’re not. John Logan can’t stand me and he uses his sharp-ass humor to make that painfully clear. And honestly, my knees had been bruised so
many times during those two weeks that I could barely remember the fake story Logan and I had told everyone.
Until now…
“So you and Logan are just hooking up and nothing else?”
Allie’s question came like a ghost with bad intentions right behind my ear. She was supposed to be working her shift right now, not making me spiral over the mess I created myself.
“I… I don’t know, are we something?”
“But nothing exclusive?”
She asked while walking around the counter and leaning toward me.
“No…” That´s the same thing i told Hannah this morning. I started hesitating immediately.
“We never talked about it.”
“Well, you probably should because I saw him flirting with a redhead today and it honestly made me sick for you.”
“We’re okay. Thanks for telling me anyway.”
I smiled at her and looked down at my phone where I kept hoping for a notification, a call, something that showed I mattered.
“You going home for the summer?”
Allie’s question came softer this time and I shook my head.
“No, maybe after the season ends. Depends.”
“Your parents love you, sweetie. Don’t worry.”
She said while grabbing my hand and rubbing her thumb against the back of it.
“Yeah, I’m sure they do.”
I snorted out a sarcastic laugh and Allie let go of my hand, glancing over my shoulder before lightly tapping the counter.
“Great, table eight needs me and now someone else can take care of you.” She said, and before I could ask what she meant, two arms wrapped around my neck and Logan’s lips pressed quickly against my cheek.
“You need taking care of?”
“Yes, she does.”
Allie answered for me with a curious smile while grabbing the mug to my left, probably making a thousand assumptions in her head already.
Which scared the hell out of me.
“Hey.”
He said, sitting down on the stool beside mine while I took another sip of my tequila sunrise.
“My friends are getting suspicious.”
I muttered while looking at him from the corner of my eye and John Logan nodded.
“Yeah, the guys asked questions too.” He sighed and I felt him watching me. “Sorry. This week’s been shit.”
I looked at him then, and his eyes met mine with more honesty than I’d seen from him in a long time.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them and he smiled a little without looking away from me.
“You work, right?”
I asked softly, taking another sip of my drink.
“Family business. I'm a mechanic in my free time, very fun.”
He said it casually, but I could swear he didn’t sound happy about it.
“I bet, all that grease and engine oil dripping on you feels exciting.´´
"It's a turn-on, believe me," he joked, and I laughed, lowering my head slightly.
´´Good to know who to call when my car dies.”
“I’m your guy.”
I looked at him and for a second my heart jumped in a way that felt weird as hell. What the hell was that?
My chest still felt tight while Logan watched me with that irritatingly calm look of his.
Like he knew exactly what he did to me.
He gently pulled my tequila sunrise from my hand and took a sip without asking permission. I rolled my eyes immediately.
“You’re obnoxious.”
“And you have terrible taste in drinks.”
“Then don’t drink it.”
“Too late.”
He set the glass back in front of me and rested his arm against the counter, leaning a little closer. His scent — soap, mint, and something ridiculously masculine — invaded my space way too fast. Way too dangerous.
“You look tired.”
The comment came low.
Real.
Not teasing.
“Practice,” I mumbled. “And exams. And life generally sucking.”
“Hm.”
Logan stared at me for a second too long.
“You’ve been limping a little.”
My face heated instantly.
“I am not limping.”
“gorgeous, you almost tripped walking in here.”
“Will keeps dropping me.”
His eyes hardened immediately.
Again.
His jaw tightened and he looked away for a second like he was trying to control some over-the-top reaction. Which was weird because I’d started noticing a pattern whenever the topic came up.
“You know what? Wanna get outta here?” Logan pointed toward the door and I followed his gaze before he added, “It’ll look convincing.”
“You’re not planning to murder me, are you?”
“You’ve been helping me lately, so no.”
He said it while holding out his hand for me to take.
And I did.
“Great.”
Logan intertwined his fingers with mine without hesitation, like it was natural. Like we were natural. We walked out of the bar under a bunch of curious stares and my cheeks burned when he dramatically opened the truck door for me.
“What a gentleman.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“Oh, right. Your ego won’t allow it.”
I climbed into the truck trying to ignore how much it smelled like Logan. He started driving without explaining where we were going.
“You’re really kidnapping me.”
“Maybe.”
“That’s kinda romantic.”
“You seriously need better standards.”
I smiled while looking out the window as campus disappeared behind us.
“Not if my standards are dark romance standards.”
“They’re not. You’re too doll-like for hardcore shit.”
Logan let out a quiet laugh through his nose, eyes still on the road lit only by the truck headlights. I gasped dramatically.
“That was offensive on multiple levels.”
“It was an observation.”
“You barely know me. Maybe I have a dark and problematic side.”
He finally looked at me for a second, a crooked smile slowly appearing.
“gorgeous, you order tequila sunrise. Your dark side is probably returning library books late.”
“Oh my God, I hate you! Just because I’m not some slutty manwhore like you who sleeps with anything with a hole under a skirt doesn’t mean I don’t like stuff.”
I huffed loudly.
Logan slowly turned his head toward me. And then he started laughing.
Actually laughing. His head tipped back slightly while he covered his mouth trying and failing to control himself.
“Did you just call me a slutty manwhore?”
“You heard me perfectly.”
“My God, gorgeous…” he kept laughing. “You get really aggressive when you’re jealous.”
“I am not jealous! You think I’m jealous over some slutty manwhore?”
“Absolutely.”
I crossed my arms and dramatically turned toward the window.
“You’re unbearable.”
“And you just described me like I’m a walking STD. That hurts.”
“Oh please. You know exactly what reputation you have.”
“My reputation is wildly exaggerated.”
I let out an incredulous laugh.
“Logan, there are literally stories about you in the girls’ dorm.”
“Good stories at least?”
I looked at him, offended.
“You’re impossible.”
He smirked like he wasn’t offended at all.
Worse. He looked entertained.
Logan’s amused smile slowly faded. Slowly. Until only silence remained.
He stared at me now with this strange expression, intense enough to make my stomach tighten. It wasn’t arrogance. Or teasing.
It was almost… vulnerable. But I didn’t know how to read John Logan when he got like this.
“What?”
I asked, and he shook his head.
“Nothing.”
I looked down toward the window while silence filled the truck.
“So… did our casual sex help distract you from the fact you’re still in love with Hannah?” I asked and felt John Logan choke in the driver’s seat.
“I told you I’m not in love with her. Or Garrett.”
“Then what is it, Logan?”
“My parents are divorced, my dad’s an alcoholic who should be in rehab but isn’t because we can’t afford it, and I’ve never actually seen love work. I never had an example of it. But when I look at those two… deep down I realized that if I ever find someone, I’d want what they have.”
“But you don’t believe you’ll get that, do you?”
I asked honestly, and his gaze dropped heavily on me while he parked somewhere I hadn’t even noticed. For a second, Logan just sat there.
Hands still on the wheel. Jaw tight. Like he’d already said more than he meant to.
“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “I think… people like me don’t usually get that kind of thing.”
My chest tightened immediately.
Because for the first time since I met John Logan, he didn’t look like the funny, arrogant, impossible guy who flirted without thinking. He just looked… tired. Human.
“People like you?”
He let out a humorless laugh.
“You know.”
“No, I don’t.”
Logan finally looked at me.
“Baby, I’m the guy who’s slept with half the campus and avoids thinking too hard because when I do…” he hesitated. “I usually don’t like what I find.”
That hurt more than it should’ve.
“That doesn’t make you incapable of loving someone.”
He held my gaze for a second too long.
“Maybe it makes me incapable of believing someone would stay.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Cruel.
My chest tightened so hard it almost hurt. Because I understood that feeling more than I wanted to admit. The feeling that nobody would actually choose to stay.
“That’s sad as hell, Logan.”
My voice came out softer than I intended. He let out a quiet nasal laugh.
“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that before.”
But this time he didn’t sound teasing.
Just tired.
Then he shut off the truck.
It was only when I looked out the window that I realized where we were.
The soft lights.
The giant screen lighting up the dark sky.
The distant sound of a movie echoing through the night.
“I’ve always wanted to go to one of these.”
I looked at his profile and watched him nod.
“I know.”
“You do?”
“I heard you talking about it last month. ´´
My heart stumbled inside my chest.
“You do?”
Logan nodded slowly, eyes still on the drive-in screen.
“You were on speaker with Hannah complaining that every romantic movie feels better at an outdoor theater.”
I frowned immediately.
“You remember that?”
“You’re loud.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
He finally looked at me and shrugged way too casually.
“I pay attention to you. You’re a tiny annoying little thing, Y/n.”
The answer came simple.
Weightless.
Without realizing the damage it caused.
Because my heart literally forgot how to function for a second.
Logan looked away first, clearing his throat before climbing out of the truck.
“Come on before the movie ends and you start complaining that I ruined half the cinematic experience.”
I smiled involuntarily while climbing out after him.
The cold wind hit again and I shivered automatically.
I didn’t even have to ask. Logan pulled his gray hoodie over his head and tossed it at me without ceremony.
“Here.”
“You’re gonna freeze.”
“I'm used to it. Just take it. ´´
I rolled my eyes, laughing quietly while putting it on.
Too big. Too warm. Way too much like him.
Logan grabbed an old blanket from the back of the truck and climbed up first, settling against the cab before pulling me up by the hand.
The giant screen partially lit up his face now. And unfortunately, that only made John Logan prettier. Which was deeply irritating.
“So…” I murmured while glancing at the movie halfway through. “You brought me to watch A Knight’s Tale?”
“Perfect movie. Swords, chaos, and Heath Ledger.”
“Oh my God, you like medieval romance.”
“Don’t call it that.”
“You do!”
He immediately pointed a finger at me.
“It has fighting.”
“And forbidden love.”
“And gambling.”
“And love letters.”
“And violence.”
I smiled victoriously when he rolled his eyes.
“You are definitely more romantic than you pretend to be.”
Logan laughed quietly while spreading the blanket over us.
“And you definitely talk too much when you think you’ve figured something out.”
I leaned my head back against the truck, watching the screen in silence for a few seconds.
For the first time in weeks my head didn’t feel like a complete disaster.
Maybe because Logan was strange tonight. More honest and less performative.
“And you know? You shouldn’t say you’re incapable of receiving love or making someone stay just because your parents couldn’t stay together. You’re not them.”
I whispered while curling a little closer against the warmth of his body. I refused to look up because I knew he was staring at me.
“I hope not.”
I heard him murmur.
My chest tightened at the quiet answer.
Not because it sounded dramatic.
But because it sounded honest.
And honesty from John Logan was rare.
Slow.
Careful.
Like a wounded animal getting close enough to decide whether to run.
I slowly turned my face toward him.
“Do you really think you’re that impossible to love?”
Logan kept his eyes on the movie screen.
But I caught the exact moment his jaw tightened.
“I think I spent too much time watching people leave.”
The answer came simple.
Without self-pity. Which somehow made it worse.
The cold wind passed through the drive-in again and I hugged myself while the light from the screen crossed his face. Logan watched me pretending I wasn’t shivering. Pretending the cold wasn’t cutting straight through me. His expression shifted almost imperceptibly before he let out a quiet laugh through his nose.
“You’re stubborn as hell.”
“And you complain too much.”
“C’mere, baby.” Before I could ask anything, Logan grabbed my waist firmly and pulled me all the way closer. A surprised sound escaped my throat when I ended up basically sitting between his legs in the
back of the truck. His chest immediately pressed against my back.
His knees rested on either side of me while the blanket wrapped around us better now. And damn. It really was warmer there. Way warmer.
“Better like this,” he murmured near my ear.
My heart started beating way too fast when I felt his arms wrap around me lazily, keeping me tucked against him. Like it was natural.
Like he’d done this hundreds of times before. But somehow… it didn’t feel rehearsed.
It felt caring.
Which was worse.
Way worse.
“You use girls as portable heaters often?” I asked, trying to sound normal.
I felt his laugh vibrate against my back.
“Only the annoying ones.”
I rolled my eyes automatically, but snuggled a little closer without realizing.
Silence fell again while the movie continued on the giant screen.
But now everything felt different.
Because I could feel every breath he took.
Every tiny movement.
His long fingers resting absentmindedly against my stomach over the hoodie.
The heat of his body surrounding mine completely.
My God.
That was dangerously intimate.
Way more intimate than sex.
His head tilted slightly until his lips brushed near my temple without actually kissing me.
“Warm now?”
The question came low. Rough. And ridiculously close. I swallowed hard before nodding slowly.
“Mhm.”
“Good.”
But he didn’t let me go.
Not even a little.
Actually, his arms only tightened around me more while he rested his chin on top of my head.
And for the first time in a long time…I felt safe.
“Just so you know. Even though I kinda hate you a little, you deserve someone who stays and loves you because you might not be as bad as I thought you were.”
I said while absentmindedly drawing circles against his chest with my cup, comfortable in the position we were in even though I definitely shouldn’t have been. Logan went completely still behind me.
So still that for a second I thought maybe I’d gone too far.
My head was still resting against his chest while the muffled movie sounds filled the silence between us, but I could hear something else now.
I could fell his heart beat fast against my temple.
His fingers moved slowly over my stomach, almost distracted, like he was thinking too hard before saying anything.
When he finally spoke, his voice came out low.
Very low.
“That was weirdly nice coming from you.”
I rolled my eyes automatically even while heat crawled up my face.
“Don’t get used to it.”
I felt his laugh vibrate against my back again.
But this time it faded quickly.
Because Logan tightened his arms around me a little more before lowering his head near my ear.
“And you’re wrong.”
My chest tightened immediately.
“About what?”
He took a few seconds to answer.
Too many seconds.
“About me not being as bad as you thought.”
I frowned instantly and turned slightly between his legs, just enough to look at his face partially lit by the drive-in screen.
There was no irony in Logan’s expression now. No arrogance.
Just that tired look that kept appearing whenever he forgot to pretend.
“Logan…”
“No, baby,” he interrupted quietly. “You don’t get it.”
His jaw tightened slightly while he looked back toward the movie.
“People like the fun version of me. The easy one. The one who drinks, jokes around, and never takes anything seriously.”
I swallowed hard silently.
“But when things get hard…” he let out a weak laugh. “I’m really good at ruining everything.”
That hit my chest way too hard. Because he didn’t sound like someone fishing for pity. He sounded like someone confessing a truth he’d already accepted a long time ago. And maybe that was what hurt most.
The fact John Logan genuinely believed that.
“You talk like you’re some walking disaster.”
“Maybe I am.”
“You’re not.”
The answer came out too fast.
Too firm.
His eyes immediately dropped to mine.
And shit.
That was a mistake.
Because I felt my entire heart stumble when Logan looked at me like that.
Silent.
Intense.
Like he was trying to understand something impossible.
“You really believe that?” he asked quietly.
I nodded slowly.
“I think you just spent too much time convincing everyone you don’t care about anything.”
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. Without humor.
“It’s easier that way.”
“For who?”
Silence.
The question stayed hanging between us while the wind passed through the drive-in again,
lightly moving the blanket around us.
Logan watched me for a few more seconds before lifting one hand toward my face.
slowly like he was giving me time to pull away.
But I didn’t.
His fingers lightly touched my chin, tilting my face up a little more.
His gaze dropped to my mouth for one dangerously long second.
And my God.
The air completely disappeared from my lungs.
“You should stop looking at me like that,” I murmured without thinking.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re gonna kiss me.”
His jaw tightened instantly.
And for the first time that night… John Logan looked nervous because deep down, he seemed just as confused as I was.
“Yeah, but I can’t kiss you,” he grumbled, still not taking his eyes off mine.
“No, you can’t,” I grumbled back, my gaze shifting between his eyes and his lips. “ You can’t, because we’re enemies,” I finished, and he smiled, amused.
“Yeah, we hate each other too much to kiss,” he said, his voice softer than the words suggested, almost like he was testing how far he could push me.
“Yeah,” I said, though it sounded weaker than I intended. “We hate each other too much to kiss.”
He let out a quiet laugh, but there was no real humor in it—just tension.
“That’s the problem,” he muttered. For a second, neither of us moved. The space between us felt smaller than it should’ve been, like the air itself was pulling us closer. My gaze flicked to his lips again before I could stop it. He noticed. Of course he did. “You keep doing that,” he said, his voice lower now.
“Doing what?”
“Looking.”
I swallowed, suddenly aware of how close his mouth was from mine. My heartbeat wasn’t even trying to be subtle anymore.
“I’m not doing anything,” I lied. He tilted his head slightly, studying me, then stepped closer until there was barely any space left between us.
´´Liar. ´´
I let out a short breath that didn’t sound convincing even to me.
“What i´m doing, John? ”
´´ Fucking with my head so bad rigth now. ´´
He grumbled, stroking my cheek with his thumb.
´´We can´t. You can´t kiss me, John. ´´
But neither of us moved away. His gaze dropped to my mouth again, slower this time, like he wasn’t even bothering to hide it anymore. My heartbeat skipped.
“You keep saying that,” he murmured.
“Because it’s true.”
“It doesn’t look like you believe it,” he said. Before I could answer, His thumb moved down to my lower lip. The touch stole my breath. His eyes flicked up to mine, darker now, searching my face like he was still deciding whether to stop.
“You’re not helping,” I whispered.
“I know,” he admitted. His thumb lingered a moment longer before he leaned in slightly—close enough that I could feel his breath against my mouth. Not a kiss. Almost.
“Say it again,” he said softly. “Say we shouldn’t.”
“We shouldn’t,” I repeated, but it came out weaker than before.
His lips hovered over mine, barely touching, just a ghost of contact—enough to blur every argument in my head.
“We can’t,” I whispered again, though this time I didn’t sound certain. He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for too long.
“Yeah,” he said, barely audible. “We can’t.”
But again neither of us moved away. And then, like the last thread of restraint snapping all at once, he closed the distance.
Our mouths met—careful at first, then real. Like everything we’d been denying finally stopped mattering.
For a second, everything went still. Then the hesitation broke completely. His hand slid more firmly to my jaw, not rushing me, just holding me there like he’d finally stopped pretending he could stay away. The kiss deepened—slow, conflicted, like neither of us had fully accepted what we were doing even as we kept doing it. My fingers curled into his hair, grounding myself in something real as the rest of the world seemed to fall away. When we finally pulled back just slightly, it wasn’t far enough to create space—just enough to breathe.
His forehead almost touched mine.“This is a bad idea,” he muttered, voice rougher now.
I let out a shaky breath, eyes still on his. “The worst,” I agreed.
SUMMARY: A frustrated figure skater who transferred from Illinois has only one goal: keeping her athletic scholarship this season, and she’ll do anything to change the way people on campus see her — especially if it means improving her image for pairs skating. Even if it costs her a fake relationship with the same person who spread the nickname that turned her into “Ice Heart.”
WARNING: SMUT AHEAD CONTENT RELATED TO SEX, RELATIONSHIPS, AND DISORDERS CONTENT CONTAINS FACTS, BUT REMEMBER THIS IS FANFICTION, IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, LEAVE!
MASTERLIST
0.3 here
0.2 Fucking blessed towel
Logan 👿:
You can come in.
I’m in the shower.
At eight o’clock, I found myself in the one place I never thought I’d ever be on a Thursday night.
Hannah was here too, but she’d arrived earlier. I only got here after showering post-practice and
listening — once again — to Will tell me I was too heavy for him to lift properly.
Right. Because apparently I was just supposed to know where to go, like I’d been here before.
The second I stepped inside, Tucker and Beau were sprawled across the couch with a video game running while Dean wandered toward the kitchen. The moment he noticed me, he
stopped dead in his tracks and cracked open a beer with a smug grin that immediately made the other two glance over the couch toward me.
Fantastic.
“ Hey. ”
“ Oh, this is new, ” Tucker said with a crooked smile.
I laughed awkwardly under my breath.
“ Logan’s upstairs, ” Dean added, pointing toward the staircase.
I glanced up the stairs and nodded.
“ Yeah, I know. I’m gonna— ”
I stopped myself, shaking my head slightly, but Dean’s grin only widened.
“ You know where it is? ”
“ Yeah, just… not through the front door. ”
Dean lifted the beer to his lips, still wearing that unbearable smirk.
Tucker burst into laughter on the couch while Beau let out a low whistle.
My face burned instantly. Perfect. Exactly what I needed.
“ God, you guys are insufferable, ” I muttered, pointing accusingly at all three of them.
“ And you’re blushing, ” Dean shot back immediately.
“ Shut up. ”
“ She tells Logan to shut up too. I think that’s her love language, ” Tucker commented casually while pressing buttons on the controller.
“ Kinda aggressive, ” Beau added.
“ She IS aggressive, ” Dean agreed. I rolled my eyes hard.
“ Do you interrogate every girl who walks in here, or am I some kind of special event? ”
“ Special event, ” all three answered in unison.
Idiots.
Dean stepped a little closer, leaning his shoulder against the wall.
“ Nope. Not doing this. Bye. ”
I immediately turned away and headed upstairs, widening my eyes for half a second before
nearly jumping out of my skin when Garrett suddenly appeared in front of me, confusion written
all over his face.
“ Y/n? Are you looking for Hannah? ”
“ No, I— ”
“ Hey, gorgeous, missed you. ”
Oh my God.
My brain completely short-circuited. Because John Logan was standing in front of me wearing nothing but a towel hanging
dangerously low on his hips, wet hair dripping against the back of his neck and over skin still damp from the shower while he pulled me against him, like this was normal. Like he kissed me every time he came home. The kiss lasted less than two seconds. But it was more than enough to turn my entire nervous system into jelly. When he pulled back slightly, warm brown eyes met mine, and that slow smile spread across his face almost immediately. Son of a bitch. He noticed. He noticed exactly what he’d done to me.
“ You still breathing? ” he asked softly, amused.
Behind me, Garrett let out a shocked laugh.
“ Oh, so this is real real. ”
My entire face caught fire.
Logan finally looked over my shoulder toward Garrett.
“ You need something? ”
“ Honestly? ” Garrett still sounded stunned. “ Not anymore. I was gonna grab something for me and Hannah to drink, but never mind. ”
“ Garrett, can you do me a favor and not tell Hannah anything yet? I haven’t had time to talk to her or Allie about this, and considering I’m pretty sure I complained about Logan to them recently… ”
A light shove pressed against my waist. I smiled falsely.
“ Which isn’t true. ” Logan raised one eyebrow beside me immediately.
“ Recently? ” he repeated slowly. “ Interesting word choice.
“ Shut up, ” I muttered through clenched teeth without dropping the fake smile.
“ Ah, sweetheart, you’re always so sweet to me. ”
I turned to glare directly at him.
“ You should really learn when to stop talking. ”
“ Okay, I’ve seen Logan in a towel for way too long, ” Garrett announced while retreating
downstairs.
Logan snorted softly before opening his bedroom door and pulling me inside after him. The door shut behind us.
“ Seriously? You went to shower? I had to pretend I’d been here before.”
“ Good. Makes them believe it more. ”
I huffed while glancing around his room before sitting carefully on the edge of his bed.
“ Okay. So now what? ”
“ We pretend we’re having sex. ”
I stared at him for a full second.
“ We’re pretending we’re what? ”
Logan opened one of his drawers like he’d just suggested ordering pizza.
“ Dating convincingly enough for them to stop thinking we were fighting in the men’s locker room earlier. ”
“ That does not require people thinking we sleep together. ”
“ Dean literally walked in yelling that he was sure we were hooking up. The line was crossed without my consent. ”
I groaned loudly while he pulled a black t-shirt over his head, finally covering that offensively attractive chest. Which helped exactly zero.
“ You’re ridiculous. ”
“ We’ve moved past ridiculous. ”
“ You relize that you kissed me? ”
“ And it worked, ” he shot back immediately. The worst part?
It absolutely had worked.
Garrett looked about two seconds away from starting a campus-wide group chat announcing our relationship.
I crossed my arms while Logan dried his hair with the towel.
“ Okay. Fine. How exactly do we do this without turning my life into a complete disaster? ”
“ Impossible. Dean’s already involved. ”
“ Great. I hate your friends. ”
“ Liar. You think they’re funny. ”
“ I think Tucker’s funny. Dean acts like a reality show host on cocaine. ”
Logan nearly choked on his laugh.
“ Oh my God. Don’t say that around him or he’ll take it as a compliment.”
I smiled before I could stop myself. Critical mistake. Because Logan noticed instantly. His brown eyes lingered on me for one second too long, and something in his expression shifted.
Less teasing.
More attention.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
Then he walked toward the bed and stopped directly in front of me.
“ Relax, Ice Heart. We just need to sell the story. ”
I tilted my face up automatically.
“ And how exactly do you sell a story? ”
That slow smile returned.
“ Easy. You stop looking like I’m holding you hostage every time I touch you. ”
“ I do not do that. ”
“ You absolutely do. ”
“ I absolutely don’t. ”
Before I could react, his fingers tilted my chin upward gently.
Light. Teasing. My entire body froze instantly. Logan lifted an eyebrow.
“ Exhibit A. ”
My heart slammed so hard against my ribs I was genuinely worried he could hear it.
Idiot.
Beautiful idiot from hell.
“ Maybe you’re just incredibly invasive, ” I muttered.
“ Maybe you like it. ”
My brain stopped functioning for a full second.
His gaze flickered down toward my mouth. Shit.
“ Please put pants on, Logan. ”
My voice came out weaker than intended, and his smile widened with satisfaction.
“ See? You even said please. ”
I rolled my eyes hard, but his expression suddenly sharpened as voices drifted through the hallway outside.
Without warning, he grabbed the bedframe and started rocking it against the wall hard enough for the headboard to slam rhythmically.
“ What the hell— ”
Then his other hand covered my mouth while he let out a muffled fake groan.
“ We’re having sex, ” he whispered against my ear. I exhaled sharply.
“ Uhm… okay. ”
Unfortunately, it sounded far more breathless than I intended.
Logan’s eyes lit up immediately. Son of a bitch. He liked that. His hand slid away from my mouth, and I forced myself to fake a shaky breath.
“ Yeah, baby, just like that, ” he murmured without taking his eyes off mine, leaning harder into the bedframe to make the noise sound more convincing. The headboard kept slamming against the wall in an embarrassingly fake rhythm while Logan struggled not to laugh directly in front of me. The entire room suddenly felt too warm. Too small. And worst of all? He was clearly enjoying this.
“ Think you can sound a little more convincing? ” he murmured.
“ You literally started a porno performance out of nowhere, ” I whispered back indignantly.
“ And you adapted to the role suspiciously fast. ”
I stared at him in horror.
“ I did not adapt to the role. ”
“ You literally just moaned in my ear. ”
My face burned instantly.
“ Because you startled me! ”
His grin widened slowly. Conceited asshole.
Before I could insult him again, footsteps echoed through the hallway outside. Heavier this time. Closer.
Logan heard them too. His eyes flicked briefly toward the door before returning to me with dangerously entertained amusement.
“ Don’t do it, ” I warned immediately.
“ Do what? ”
“ That look. You always make that face right before you do something stupid. ”
“ How do you know that? “
He smirked a little bit and the doorknob turned before he could even have an answer the door swung open.
“ Logan, have you seen my hood— ”
The guy froze mid-sentence.
Completely froze.
Because the second the door opened, Logan grabbed my waist and yanked me against him
hard enough to throw off my balance completely.
We crashed sideways onto the bed.
My body trapped underneath his.
His towel slipped dangerously low on his hips from the impact while my skirt rode up my thighs.
Holy. Shit.
The situation looked HORRIBLE.
The hockey player’s eyes widened so fast I thought he might genuinely die on the spot.
“ Holy shit— sorry! ”
Logan didn’t even bother pretending to be embarrassed.
Actually, the asshole looked annoyed about being interrupted.
“ Close the door, ” he said calmly.
The guy obeyed immediately.
The door slammed shut.
Silence.
Then Logan buried his face against my neck because he was laughing.
Laughing. His shoulders shaking against me while I stayed completely frozen, trying to process the fact that half the hockey team probably believed I’d just slept with John Logan.
“ Your towel fell, and I can literally feel your dick against my thigh, Logan. ” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut and biting my lower lip.
Logan went completely still above me for half a second.
Then he slowly lifted his head from my neck.
Brown eyes locked onto mine instantly.
And the smile disappeared. Completely.
Oh my God. Because now he’d realized it too.
My brain short-circuited the second his jaw tightened slightly.
“ Biologically speaking, that’s an involuntary reaction, ” he murmured after a few seconds.
I stared at him in disbelief.
“ Are you seriously explaining this to me right now? ”
“ Felt polite to clarify. ”
“ John Logan. ”
A muffled laugh escaped him, but this time it was obvious he was trying much harder to control
himself.
Which somehow made everything worse.
So much worse.
Because he was still on top of me.
His towel somewhere on the floor while John Logan remained between my thighs. My face had to be on fire.
“ You’re blushing again, ” he murmured softly.
“ I’m going to kill you. ”
“ Very hot threat considering the current situation. ”
I gasped in outrage and shoved hard against his shoulder.
Logan barely moved.
If anything, his fingers tightened instinctively against my waist, and my stomach flipped violently.
Hatred.
Pure hatred.
“ You’re unbearable, ” I muttered.
“ You keep saying that while holding onto me. ”
I blinked in confusion. Then realized my hand had been gripping his shoulder since we fell onto the bed. I let go instantly like I’d been electrocuted. That slow smile returned immediately.
“ Oh, so now you noticed. ”
“ Oh my God, stop. ”
“ Love language. Heard of it. ”
I rolled my eyes, trying desperately to ignore the fact that his body was still pressed against mine.
Downstairs, someone started yelling about beer.
Another guy answered with laughter.
The house stayed loud.
Normal.
While my entire life quietly collapsed inside that bedroom.
Logan let out a low breath before finally lifting himself slightly above me.
Thank God?
Huge mistake.
Because my eyes dropped instinctively downward and—
Oh. That could genuinely kill me. And Logan noticed immediately.
“ Want me to put pants on now? ” he asked, voice low and entertained again.
“ I want you to disappear. ”
“ Liar. ”
“ Logan. ”
The corner of his mouth lifted.
Then, slowly, he leaned down again until he was much too close to my mouth.
My heart completely forgot what a healthy rhythm was supposed to feel like.
“ Relax, Ice Heart, ” he murmured softly. “ The performance is over. ”
The problem? My body clearly hadn’t gotten the message yet.
“ Give me a break, Logan. ”
Stupid towel.
I rolled my eyes and cleared my throat, looking away from him as he turned toward his closet, but I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at his round ass before getting caught by his gaze on me.
“Wasn’t looking.” I said it immediately, and he laughed, shaking his head.
“Yeah, sure.” He mocked, pulling on a pair of sweatpants before throwing himself onto his bed.
“So now what?”
“Maybe I can leave?”
I suggested, and he grunted.
“Mm, that’s not very convincing.”
“Why?” I looked at him, and he shrugged.
“I don’t know, if we ‘hook up’ and then you leave, it won’t seem real.” He said it, and I nodded.
“Right.”
“Do you like skating?”
The question caught me off guard. The question caught me completely off guard. I blinked a few times, totally thrown by the sudden change of subject.
“What?”
Logan shrugged from where he was lying on the bed, one arm behind his head.
“Skating. Do you like it?”
I frowned automatically.
“That’s literally the thing I do most in my life.”
“That didn’t answer my question.”
I opened my mouth. Then closed it. Because… shit. He was right. I never really thought about it like that. Like. As if it were a simple choice.
“I used to like it more,” I admitted after a few seconds. His eyes stayed fixed on mine, attentive.
“Before what?” I sighed softly, looking down at my own hands.
“Before it became an obligation all the time.” Logan stayed quiet. And that was weird coming
from him. Because John Logan normally had a joke ready every three seconds.
“My mom loved skating,” I continued without realizing it. “So I started early. Really early. And I
was good, so everything became… serious really fast.”
“That sounds awful.” I let out a dry laugh.
“You’ve played hockey since you were a kid. Isn’t it the same thing?” He tilted his head slightly.
“No. Because I still love it.” That hit my chest in an irritating way. Because I remembered loving it too.
Remembered stepping onto the ice as a kid and feeling my whole body light. Free. Now almost everything felt like pressure. Weight. Mistakes.
“I love who I am on the ice, but Will seems to ruin everything.” I huffed, stressed.
“Then why are you skating pairs if you don’t like it?” He asked, sitting up straighter against the headboard while I turned to sit cross-legged at the foot of the bed.
“It’s the only way I get to stay at Briar U. Assuming he can even lift me.” My voice came out bitter, and Logan frowned in confusion.
“What?” I looked at him and instantly regretted opening my mouth, so I shook my head.
“Nothing, it’s just something that’s been happening at practice. No big deal. Thinking out loud.”
His eyes narrowed slightly and he bit his bottom lip in an insanely sexy way.
“He can’t lift you? Are you kidding me? What the fuck?”
I looked at him silently, slightly embarrassed, before dropping my gaze to my phone, pretending to search for a notification that would rescue me from this conversation. “Come on, Y/n, what kind of guy can’t lift you?” Heat crawled instantly up my neck.
“Logan—”
“No, seriously.” He leaned forward on the bed, resting his forearms on his knees. “What do you weigh? Like, a hundred and twenty pounds? Maybe less.”
I crossed my arms automatically.
“Wow. Thanks. Love being analyzed like a sack of potatoes.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he shot back quickly. “I’m saying hockey guys can lift another dude weighing almost two hundred pounds during a fight. How the hell can your partner not lift you in a routine?”
My jaw tightened. Because that was exactly the question I’d been trying not to ask myself for weeks.
“Well… he’s not some huge, muscular hockey player, so that kinda explains a lot, Logan. “
“Do you think I’m a hot, muscular hockey player?”
He teased, and I threw a pillow at his chest.
“I didn’t say hot.”
“You think I’m hot.” He was so unbelievable.
“You already know that, but you’re also an annoying jerk whose body doesn’t make up for it.”
I said, and he placed a hand over his chest, pretending to be wounded.
“Okay, now that you’re done killing my self-esteem, why can’t the real jerk lift you?”
“He says I don’t help enough with the axis.”
“And you believe him?”
I hated how long it took for my answer to come. Logan noticed too.
“Oh, come on.” He dragged a hand over his face in disbelief. “Don’t tell me that idiot’s getting into your head.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Seems pretty simple to me. If he can’t execute the moves, the problem could also be him.”
“You don’t understand pair skating.”
“And you think I’ve never seen lifts on ice?” He arched a brow. “Gorgeous, I literally train in a skating arena.”
I rolled my eyes hard.
“Don’t call me that.”
“ However, you are, Ice Heart.”
“That’s not better.” The corner of his mouth lifted slowly.
Annoying idiot. Complete annoying idiot.
“What move can’t he do?” Logan insisted.
I let out a tired sigh.
“The triple twist has been awful. And the overhead lifts are inconsistent.”
His eyes narrowed immediately.
“Overhead?”
I nodded.
“He dropped you?”
“Yes, okay? But it’s not completely his fault.”
Logan stood up then, flexing his biceps at me, which made me frown.
“Logan.”
“Just saying.”
“Logan.”
“I can lift you.”
My brain shut off so fast it was almost offensive.
“You are definitely not lifting me.”
His smile turned dangerously amused. “Scared?”
“Definitely yes!”
His grin widened the second I said it.
´´ Shut your dirty little mouth, ” He pointed a finger at me immediately, clearly proud of himself. “See? Easy. Didn’t even need practice.”
Shit.
“You just turned this into a challenge.”
I pointed a finger at him immediately. “No. Don’t turn things into challenges, Logan. That never ends well.”
“For you or for me?” “For my bones.”
He laughed quietly through his nose before stepping closer. My heart instantly started beating wrong.
“Relax, Ice Heart,” he murmured playfully. “I won’t let you fall.” The words hit harder than they should’ve. Because Will said the exact same thing before lifts. And maybe Logan noticed something on my face, because his expression softened slightly.
“Hey.” His voice came out lower. “I was joking.”
“I know.”
But my voice sounded way too weak.
His eyes dropped to my face for a second before he sighed.
“Do you trust me?”
The question made my stomach twist completely.
“Of course not! I still hate you, remember? “
“I don’t think so, considering you’re kind of my fake girlfriend.”
The air vanished from my lungs instantly.
“Logan! “
My yell came out completely scandalized while he held me over his broad shoulder with an irritating amount of ease. And the worst part? He didn’t even seem unbalanced. Not even a little.
One of his hands gripped firmly behind my thighs to keep me in place while the other steadied my back. Secure. Ridiculously secure.
“My God, you weigh nothing.”
“Put me down right now! “ He laughed.
Actually laughed. And God, that laugh was enough to make panties wet, and I understood why now. The vibration traveled straight through his body against mine, which somehow made my humiliation worse.
“Not seeing much effort from you on the axis, Ice Heart.”
“I’m going to kill you in your sleep.”
“Threat noted.”
I smacked his back indignantly. Hard. Logan didn’t even react.
“That was offensive.”
“That was a tap.”
“Logan!”
Logan let out a low laugh before stopping beside the bed.
For one second, I thought he was finally going to put me down like a normal person. Then the idiot tossed me straight onto the mattress. The air escaped my lungs in an offended little “oh” as I sank into the bed, staring at him in complete shock.
“ Great, this is the part of the porn where you blow my brains out. ”
“I hate you.”
“That’s getting repetitive.” I rolled my eyes while propping myself up on my elbows.
“You are completely unbearable.”
“And you’re clearly traumatized by that idiot partner of yours.”
My smile faded slightly. Damn. Logan noticed instantly. His brown eyes dropped to my face for a second too long before he cleared his throat and looked away like he realized he’d gone too far.
“I’m not saying it to make you feel bad,” he muttered more quietly. “I just think it’s kind of insane that someone made you think you’re heavy.”
My chest tightened in an irritating way. Because he sounded genuinely angry for me. And that was dangerously new.
“You literally carried me around like a sack of potatoes,” I grumbled, trying to lighten the mood.
“Exactly.” He spread his arms. “And I’m not even a figure skater.”
“Your ego is a clinical disease.”
“Probably.” A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
Critical mistake. Because Logan smiled immediately when he heard it. Not that smug smile. Another real smile. Smaller. Distracted. And somehow that seemed worse. Way worse. The silence turned strange for half a second. Then Logan cleared his throat and took a step back.
“Just to be clear…” He pointed between us quickly. “This doesn’t change the fact that I still hate you too.”
I arched a brow.
“Oh, sure, I think it's important that we always make this clear. Because men normally carry girls they hate over their shoulders and throw them onto beds.”
“It was purely scientific.”
“Scientific?”
“Yes. I needed to prove a point.”
I rested my forearms on the mattress, looking at him standing at the foot of the bed.
“And what exactly was the point?”
His eyes dropped to my face again.
“That the problem clearly isn’t you.”
Shit. That hit way too hard.
“Alright, enough interaction for today. I’ve already been too nice.”
I said, standing from the bed with a small smile.
“Please don’t waste all your kindness on me.” He replied with a crooked grin, and I let out a nasal laugh.
“Okay, see you around then.”
The second I opened Logan’s bedroom door, I came face to face with Hannah in the hallway, arms crossed while staring at us. “What the hell is this?”
“Yeah, I think I forgot to tell you and Allie about this.”
I said, and I felt Logan step up behind me before pulling me back against his chest by the waist.
He was way too good at this fake dating thing.
Holy shit.
“You forgot? Okay, this is weird. I mean, you two used to hate each other.”
“Can we not?”
I asked, and she laughed into her mug, narrowing her eyes.
“Okay, I was already leaving, and you—”
Hannah started, and I nodded, stepping away slightly.
“Me too actually. I still need my eight hours of sleep. If I’m lucky.” Logan let out a low “hm” behind me before Hannah could even answer.
Then I felt his fingers slide slowly into the waistband of my skirt. My whole body froze instantly.
Because that idiot did it with terrifying ease.
Like he’d touched me like that a hundred times before. Hannah’s eyes widened immediately.
“Oh my God,” she murmured, nearly laughing. “How did this even happen?” Before I could complain, he pulled me back against his chest again. The scent of his shampoo mixed with soap flooded my head again and, honestly, that was starting to become a psychological problem. My psychological problem.
´´ She´s just a very tempting little thing, Wellsy. ´´
Hannah made a loud noise of shock.I rolled my eyes immediately.
“Hannah i´m sorry…”
“No, shut up. I literally spent months listening to you call him arrogant.”
“She still does,” Logan commented calmly behind me.
“Because you are arrogant.” I rolled my eyes.
“And yet you’re still here.” His smile turned irritatingly satisfied when I didn’t answer fast enough. Idiot. Complete annoying idiot.
Then, slowly, Logan loosened his arm around my waist.
His fingers slid lazily from the waistband of my skirt before he finally let go completely. But he didn’t step away. Of course he didn’t.
He lowered his face slightly toward mine, brown eyes fixed on me with that dangerously amused expression.
“Bye, gorgeous.”
The tease came out low.
Soft.
And paired with that damn crooked smile.
My brain made an extremely bad decision in that exact moment. Because before I could think
properly, my hands grabbed his shirt.
And I pulled him down.
“Bye.”
But before I could leave I was already kissing John Logan. Completely catching him off guard. My fingers curled automatically into the damp curls at the back of his neck while his lips stayed motionless for a full second, clearly trying to process what was happening. Absolute shock. Temporary victory. Then Logan reacted. His hand gripped my waist instantly, firm enough to pull me closer while he kissed me back without hesitation.
Shit.
Terrible idea.
Terrible.
Idea.
Because he kissed exactly the way he did everything else: like he had way too much confidence in his effect on people.
And even worse?
He probably had a reason for it.
When I finally pulled back a few inches after long seconds, the entire hallway had gone silent. Hannah stood there with her mouth completely open. And Logan…Logan just stared at me. Stunned for the first time that night. His fingers still locked around my waist. Brown eyes slightly darker.
“That was extremely weird to witness, and I’m not even talking about the kissing part. You two together feels like I’m literally hallucinating or something.”
Hannah said, and I laughed loudly, stepping away from Logan before grabbing my friend’s arm.
“Come on, I need my bed.”
I said, pulling her toward the end of the hallway, away from the danger that John Logan was.
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