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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
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.”
Você pode deixar a reação dela um pouco mais intensa e fluida:
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.
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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
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
0.5 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
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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 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.
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
0.2 here
0.1 Dealing
I had the worst practice of my life, and for the first time all semester, it had nothing to do with skating.
I landed every jump.
I stayed perfectly in sync.
It almost felt like I was proving Will and Coach wrong — proving we didn’t need to fake a relationship just to skate well together. Which was ironic, considering the only reason that happened was because I’d accidentally thrown myself into an even worse fake relationship.
When our music carried into the final sequence and we struck our ending pose, Coach Hayes applauded from outside the rink, lowering his tablet with an approving nod.
“ You two were incredible. You don’t even look like the same pair from yesterday. Keep skating like this until competition, and we’re making that podium. ” He said it with his hands planted on his hips while Will turned toward me with a grin, wrapping his arms around me and letting out an exaggerated grunt as he tried to lift me off the ice.
“ That was amazing, but I still think you should lose a few pounds. For the good of the team. ” My brows furrowed as I stared at him blankly, completely speechless.
“ Good work today. ” He gave my shoulder two careless pats before skating away, leaving me standing alone in the middle of the rink.
Son of a bitch.
By the time I skated off the ice, hockey players were already flooding the rink for practice, and murder flashed across my face the second I heard my coach speak.
Coach Hayes — my coach, my fucking coach — rested a hand on the shoulder of a passing player and said:
“ Don’t distract my athlete, Logan. If you’re going to be the kind of boyfriend who ruins her focus, stay away from her. She’s too talented to waste. ”
The murderous look vanished just enough for me to catch the confused crease between Logan’s brows as his gaze flicked from Coach Hayes to me.
Then I moved.
Like thunder.
Laughing far too loudly, I grabbed John Logan by the arm and dragged him down the hallway.
“ Why is he talking about— ”
“ Need to talk to him, Coach! See you tomorrow! Bye! ”
I shouted over my shoulder while practically sprinting across the floor in my blades — something I absolutely should not have been doing — dragging Logan straight into the empty men’s locker room.
The door slammed shut behind us.
I let go of his arm immediately and started pacing back and forth, still balancing dangerously on my skates, too overwhelmed to realize how stupid that was.
“ Okay. Okay, okay, okay— shit. ”
“ Do you always kidnap people after practice, or should I feel special? ”
His calm voice irritated me instantly.
I turned toward him and found John Logan leaning against the locker room door like he hadn’t just been dragged across the arena by a panicking figure skater in blades. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, confusion written all over his face.
And somehow, even worse than confused—
He looked entertained.
“ Listen to me. You need to listen to me, okay? ”
“ Yesterday you called me an idiot and told me to go fuck myself. Today you want me to listen to you? I don’t know if— ”
He grimaced slightly and reached for the doorknob like he intended to leave, but I rushed forward and grabbed his arm before immediately letting go again, suddenly afraid I’d crossed some invisible line.
His eyes dropped briefly to my hand sliding away from his arm before lifting back to my face. For one horrible second, I thought Logan might actually leave. Instead, he let out a tired sigh and dropped his hand from the doorknob.
The slow smile spreading across John Logan’s face looked exactly like the kind of trouble capable of ruining my life.
“ You’re still wearing skates. ”
I looked down as if I were only just realizing that.
“ …yes? ”
“ On the floor of the men’s locker room. ”
“ I noticed that part. ”
He dragged a hand down his face, visibly losing patience.
“ Did you hit your head when you fell today? ”
“ A few times, maybe. ”
“ Christ. ” Logan muttered before pointing at me. “ Take those off before you break your neck. ”
I rolled my eyes instantly.
“ I know how to skate, hockey player. It’s literally my sport. ”
“ And yet I’ve watched you almost die at least four times already. ”
“ Dramatic. ”
“ You crashed into me five minutes ago. ”
“ Because YOU were standing in the way. ”
A disbelieving laugh escaped him as he stepped away from the door.
“ It’s honestly impressive how you turn everything into an argument. ”
“ It’s honestly impressive how you sound like a divorced father. ”
“ It’s honestly impressive how you still haven’t taken your skates off, ” he shot back immediately.
I crossed my arms stubbornly.
“ You’re bossy as hell. ”
“ And you’re a disaster waiting to happen. ”
We stared at each other in irritated silence for several seconds. Then, purely out of spite, I took one step backward on my blades. The skate slipped instantly across the smooth floor.
“ Shit— ”
My body tipped backward so fast I barely had time to react, but Logan moved before I could hit the ground. One arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me sharply against him.
The breath vanished from my lungs. We froze. His chest pressed against mine. One strong hand firm against my waist. The other gripping my arm. And this close, John Logan was unfairly warm.
“ …you were saying? ” he asked softly. Heat rushed instantly to my face.
Hatred.
Pure hatred.
“ Shut up, ” I muttered.
The corner of his mouth curved upward again.
“ Take the skates off, Ice Heart. ”
“ Don’t call me that. ”
His dangerously amused smile widened, and I shoved lightly against his chest before moving toward the bench to take my skates off.
“ Finished flirting with me, or— ”
I glared up at him immediately.
“ I did something I really didn’t want to do, but I panicked and it was the only thing I could think of. ”
Logan studied me silently for several seconds.
Still too close. Still too warm. Still wearing that infuriating expression like he was enjoying this way too much.
“ Does this usually end with a crime or you asking me for money? ”
“ Could you shut up for one second, Logan? ”
“ Aggressive. ”
I inhaled slowly, trying to organize my thoughts without spontaneously combusting.
“ My coach thinks we’re dating, ” I blurted out.
He blinked once.
“ Right. ”
“ And technically that’s my fault because— ”
“ Because…? ” he prompted.
I looked down, fingers tightening around my skate laces.
“ Will and Hayes thought it would be a good idea for me and Will to fake-date for publicity and chemistry with the audience, and I panicked and told them I couldn’t because I was already dating someone… ”
The silence afterward was lethal.
Slowly, painfully slowly, I looked back up at him. Logan was still staring at me. Only now, the amusement had disappeared completely.
“ You told them you were dating… me? ”
My cheeks burned instantly.
“ You were the first person I thought of because I was standing on the ice and— I don’t know. Anyway. Sorry. About that. ”
Logan kept staring at me without saying a word.
The silence stretched so long I briefly considered ripping my skates off with my bare hands and escaping through the nearest window.
When I finally looked back up, the corner of his mouth twitched.
Of course.
Of course he thought this was funny.
“ So let me get this straight, ” Logan said slowly, crossing his arms again. “ Your coach wanted you to fake-date your skating partner to improve your chemistry on the ice… ”
“ Yes, ” I muttered miserably.
“ And to get out of it, you invented a random boyfriend. ”
“ Yes. ”
“ And that random boyfriend was me. ”
“ It sounds worse when you say it like that. ”
“ Because it is worse. ”
I huffed in irritation and went back to yanking at the laces of my skate far harder than necessary.
“ I already said I was sorry. ”
“ No, no. ” he replied much too quickly. “ I’m just trying to understand why exactly I was the first option during your mental breakdown. ”
“ You weren’t an option! ”
“ So this happened naturally? Which is honestly even more concerning. ”
I threw the skate guard at him, and Logan caught it effortlessly.
Annoying asshole.
“ Could you stop being unbearable for five minutes? ”
“ Haven’t decided yet, ” he answered calmly.
I finished taking off one skate and dropped it beside me before finally lifting my gaze back to him.
“ Listen. I just needed to get out of that conversation fast. Hayes won’t let go of this ridiculous ice-couple marketing idea, and I panicked. ”
The amusement on his face faded slightly this time.
“ Wait. They seriously wanted you and that guy to pretend to date? ”
“ Yes. ”
“ That’s weird as hell. ”
“ Welcome to figure skating, ” I muttered dryly.
Logan watched me for a moment that lasted a little too long.
“ And you didn’t want to? ”
A short, humorless laugh escaped me.
“ Have you completely lost your mind? ”
“ Fair enough. ”
Then he laughed.
Not politely.
Not quietly.
A real laugh.
I stared at him in outrage while he bent slightly, trying to catch his breath.
After a few seconds, Logan finally fell quiet again.
Long seconds.
Then he slowly uncrossed his arms and stepped closer.
“ This is a really bad idea. ”
My heart sank a little.
“ I know, ” I murmured before continuing carefully. “ But it could help you too… ”
His head tilted slightly.
“ How? ”
“ Your friends think you’re in love with Hannah. ”
The smile disappeared from his face little by little.
“ Oh. ”
I crossed my arms automatically, still sitting on the bench.
“ Yeah. Oh. ”
Logan looked away for a second, running his tongue against the inside of his cheek. For the first time since I dragged him into that locker room, he looked genuinely uncomfortable.
Interesting.
“ Garrett told you that? ” he asked eventually.
“ Hannah did. ”
“ I’m not into Hannah. ”
He said it firmly, and I nodded once.
“ Are you into Garrett instead? ”
The laugh that escaped me shattered the heavy silence between us and made Logan throw the skate guard back at me. It bounced off my shoulder before falling onto the bench beside me.
“ Go fuck yourself, ” Logan shot back immediately.
But there was a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth now. Small. Reluctant.
Victory.
“ Oh, so you didn’t deny it that quickly. Interesting. ”
“ You’re impossible. ”
“ And you turned red. ”
“ I did NOT turn red. ”
“ You absolutely did. ”
“ It’s literally freezing in here. ”
“ That excuse stopped working five minutes ago. ”
Logan let out a quiet laugh through his nose and shook his head before finally looking directly at me again.
“ For your information, I’m not in love with Hannah or Garrett. ”
“ Then why do your friends think that? ”
He took one second too long to answer.
“ Because I’m an idiot who doesn’t know how to hide things. But I don’t like them like that, ” he admitted quietly.
The honesty in his voice caught me off guard enough to make my brows pull together slightly.
Logan looked away again, leaning one shoulder against the lockers behind him.
“ Fine. ”
“ Fine? ”
“ Fine. I’m in. ”
For a second, I just stared at him.
“ …what? ”
Logan shrugged like he hadn’t just completely altered the course of my life.
“ You heard me. I’m in. ”
“ Wait. ” I stood up so fast from the bench I nearly lost my balance again. “ You’re agreeing to this? Just like that? ”
“ Doesn’t really seem like you’re in a position to demand an interview process. ”
“ Logan. ”
He sighed dramatically before pushing himself away from the lockers and stopping directly in front of me again.
“ Look, Ice Heart, honestly? ” he began. “ If this gets your coach to stop trying to turn you and that guy into some Disney-on-Ice romance, then I’m in. ”
My nose wrinkled instantly.
“ Don’t say it like that. ”
“ Like what? ”
“ Disney-on-Ice romance. That was disturbing. ”
“ You literally compete wearing glitter while romantic music plays. ”
“ And you wear skates with knives attached to your feet so you can slam men into walls. Neither of us has any moral high ground here. ”
His smile returned.
Infuriatingly beautiful.
“ Okay. Fair. ”
I crossed my arms, trying to ignore the embarrassingly fast rhythm of my heartbeat.
“ So… you really don’t care? ” I asked more quietly this time.
Logan tilted his head slightly.
“ About fake dating you? ”
Heat rushed instantly into my face.
I shuddered. "That's so weird to hear."
He laughed softly again.
Damn it.
I hated that his laugh sounded good.
“ Relax, ” Logan murmured. “ It’s not like I’m actually going to fall in love with you. ”
My ego took the hit immediately.
“ You wish, Logan. ”
His brows lifted slowly.
“ Uh, okay, the ice girl has a little fire in her. ”
“ Shut up. ”
“ You tell me to shut up a lot for someone who keeps talking to me. ”
I opened my mouth to answer, but the locker room door slammed open before I could.
Dean walked in first.
Garrett right behind him.
And both of them froze the second they saw us practically glued together in the middle of the men’s locker room.
Silence.
Dean’s eyes widened dramatically.
“ I knew it. ”
“ Oh my God, ” Garrett muttered, dragging a hand down his face.
My heart dropped straight into my stomach.
Logan — the asshole — didn’t look worried in the slightest. If anything, he looked like he was trying not to laugh. Dean pointed at us like he’d just uncovered a criminal conspiracy.
“ I told you guys! I told you they were hooking up! ”
"Right, the difference is that we know how to be discreet," Logan said, ruffling his own hair.
“ We need you, man, ” Garrett called from the doorway.
Then, in one smooth movement, Logan’s hands slid to my waist and pulled me even closer against him. My breath caught instantly. His lips brushed lightly against my cheek before he leaned down close enough for his mouth to graze my ear.
“ You need to come over tonight so they’ll believe we weren’t fighting, ” he whispered.
I looked up at him slowly and nodded once.
“ Is eight okay? ”
Logan stared at me for one second too long.
Too close.
Too warm.
His hands still firm against my waist.
The heat of his body destroying every inch of space between us. And then that slow, dangerous smile appeared again.
“ Eight sounds perfect, gorgeous. ”
Ugh.
I felt pure hatred.
My first language isn't English, go easy on me.
I’m truly grateful to everyone who showed so much support in the comments on the Ice Heart prologue. I’ll be publishing up to chapter 4 soon, and I really hope you enjoy the story we’re building together with Logan. Your support means a lot to me. I love you all.
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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.”
i just saw your post abt off campus and i’m so happy there’s finally fanfics for them, anyway can you write something for logan like literally anything i am obsessed with that man🥹
Hi, I'm LITERALLY SO OBSESSED with this man that I decided to write a short series about him, here's the prologue of Ice Heart.
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
0.1 here
PROLOGUE
I put my hands on my aching knees, breathless and completely overwhelmed by the desperate urge to cry. I let out a sharp breath and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to steady my breathing, which was bordering on dangerously uneven.
“We can’t stop, Y/n.”
Will shouted from behind me, skating closer to where I stood on the rink. I lifted my head in frustration and looked over my shoulder at the blond with icy blue eyes, suddenly wanting to cry all over again. I’d only been at Briar for a few months after transferring from Illinois with a full scholarship—as long as I managed to stay on the podium throughout the season. Unfortunately, it was pairs skating season, which explained exactly why I was so miserable.
“Sorry, Will.”
I muttered, turning toward him and receiving a small encouraging smile. A badly forced one.
“It’s okay, I just think…”
He started speaking before giving up halfway through with an exaggerated sigh.
“What?”
“Nothing, it’s just… listen, Y/n, maybe for this to work you need to lose a little weight, you know? Drop a few pounds so I can lift you properly.”
I opened my mouth and closed it just as quickly as the thought crossed my mind.
Maybe you should work out more?
I almost said it.
But I didn’t. Because i am a coward.
Because part of me thought maybe he was right.
“I think we should practice the lifts off the ice. This still isn’t working.”
I stammered, placing my hands on my hips as our coach skated toward us in the middle of the rink.
“You two aren’t synchronized. We’re not winning the season if this keeps up.”
Our coach said it plainly, and I swallowed hard around the lump in my throat.
I’m good.
I know I’m good.
Just not with Will.
Will looked away the moment the coach moved toward another pair on the opposite side of the rink. The silence between us became heavy, suffocating, broken only by the sound of blades carving through ice around us.
I inhaled slowly through my nose, trying to ignore the burning behind my eyes.
“Want to try again?” I asked quietly.
Will nodded, though he looked just as defeated as I felt.
I skated back to the center of the rink, positioning myself automatically. My hand found his and, for a second, I thought about how unnatural this always felt between us.
There was no chemistry. No trust. Just desperate effort.
“One, two, and—”
He tried to lift me.
For one second my skates left the ice.
The next second everything collapsed.
Will lost balance and we both slammed onto the rink. My lower back hit first, knocking the air from my lungs with a horrible sound. A low groan escaped me while he cursed loudly beside me.
“Shit!”
People started staring.
I immediately shut my eyes, mortified.
“You okay?” Will asked quickly, getting up before me.
I nodded even though I wasn’t.
Because saying yes was easier.
He held out a hand to help me up, but before I could take it, another voice appeared beside us.
“That was ugly as hell.”
I heard the coach say, and I let out an annoyed breath as I stood up without Will’s help.
“Let’s start from the beginning.”
“No. We’re done for today. You’ve pushed enough.”
And that was the end of practice. Another practice that made me feel like absolute shit, just like every other one this week.
After Will and our coach left the rink, I stayed behind. The blade scraped crookedly across the ice when I landed the triple loop.
My ankle twisted sideways and I nearly slammed into the barrier, catching myself at the last second. The rough sound of steel scratching ice echoed through the nearly empty rink and shame burned in my chest immediately.
I ripped one earbud out with an aggravated sigh.
Of course.
Of course I messed up. Will’s voice clung to my head like a curse. Maybe you need to lose a little weight.
I swallowed hard and pushed my damp hair back, breathing heavily. The rink was almost empty now, just a few employees in the distance and the faint sound of the resurfacing machine cleaning part of the ice.
I could leave.
I should leave.
But I kept going.
I returned to my starting position and hit play on the music again. One step. Two. Mohawk. Turn. My body moved automatically, like it knew the choreography better than my own mind did.
I landed the double axel.
I nailed the step sequence.
Then came the parallel jump.
I launched myself upward—
“Hey, watch out!”
The male voice came too loudly and before I understood what happened, I crashed onto my knees with both palms against the ice.
“Fuck.”
I lifted my head and saw the hockey team entering the rink.
“Shit, is it already four?”
I asked Garrett Graham, the team captain.
“Yeah. You okay? That looked pretty bad.”
“Pretty bad.”
A blond guy appeared behind him and I got to my feet, shaking my head.
“I’m used to it. Sorry for still being here, I lost track of time.”
“Relax, ice princess. We love a dramatic performance before practice.”
The blond behind Garrett said with a crooked grin.
Dean Di Laurentis.
Everyone did.
But I knew better from Allie's sexcapades with him. Which was still a secret. I rolled my eyes immediately while wiping my wet hands on my thermal leggings.
“Funny, you're fucking lucky that Allie and Hannah are my best friends, Di Laurentis.” I muttered flatly.
Garrett laughed quietly and shoved Dean by the shoulder.
“Ignore him. His brain freezes with the rink.”
“My brain works perfectly, thank you very much. I just witnessed attempted murder on ice,” Dean shot back. I sighed again, adjusting my earbuds around my neck. My lower back still hurt from the earlier fall and my knees burned from that awful landing.
Honestly?
I just wanted to disappear.
“Okay, leaving now. Bye.”
I said while skating toward the exit of the rink—and crashed directly into another hockey player because honestly? Were people actually supposed to be that huge in real life?
Or rather—A giant wall of muscle.
The impact completely ruined the little balance my ankle still had and, for one humiliating second, I thought I was about to faceplant onto the ice again.
But strong hands grabbed my arms before it happened.
Fuck.
The deep voice came from very close.
I lifted my head irritably and came face to face with extremely impatient brown eyes.
“Shit, sorry.”
“Watch where you’re skating.”
The moment the rude words left his mouth, I slowly looked up at him, already annoyed, and frowned in confusion.
“Well, excuse me again, Mr. Arrogant.”
His brown eyes narrowed immediately. Like he wasn’t used to people talking back to him like that.
“I’m not arrogant. You’re the one who ruined the ice for our practice and can barely stay standing."
“That’s exactly what I said, because that’s exactly what you are.”
Behind him, Dean burst out laughing loud enough to echo through the entire rink.
“Come on, Logan, leave the ice princess alone.”
The brunet ignored him completely. His fingers were still wrapped around my arms and that irritated me more than it should have.
“You can let go now.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“You gonna fall again?”
My blood boiled instantly.
“Fuck you, Logan.”
“Then probably.”
I yanked my arms away from his grip harder this time and immediately took a step back.
Or tried to.
My ankle protested instantly and I stumbled slightly. For one pathetic second. But he noticed. Of course he noticed. His gaze dropped directly to my leg.
“You’re hurt.”
“No, I just enjoy almost kissing the floor for fun.”
“Are you always this irritating or did I just get lucky today?”
I crossed my arms immediately.
“Shut up, Logan.”
After that I left the ice, putting my blade guards on and heading toward the bleachers where my bag and sneakers were.
That night when I got home and closed the door behind me, I looked at Allie sitting on the couch and pressed my lips into a thin line.
“What’s wrong?”
Allie asked, stretching her neck to look at me and I sighed, covering my face with both hands.
“I’m tired, that’s all.”
I said, shaking my head before heading toward my room.
Allie watched me cross the apartment with a clearly suspicious expression.
Because she knew me.
She’d known me since Illinois. Long before Briar. Long before skating started suffocating me. She knew exactly what I looked like when something was destroying me from the inside out.
“Y/n,” she called from the living room.
I stopped in the middle of the hallway without turning around.
“Hm?”
“ where you crying?”
My chest tightened instantly.
I forced out a short laugh.
“No. I just want a hot shower and to die for about eight hours.”
“Dramatic.”
“Influence from living with you.”
I heard her huff softly before I entered my room and shut the door behind me.
The hot shower helped.
Only a little.
But the second I laid down, Will’s voice came back into my head. Lose a few pounds. I squeezed my eyes shut immediately.
Great.
Now on top of the physical pain, I was having an identity crisis sponsored by figure skating.
Perfect.
When I came downstairs later wearing an oversized Briar hoodie and fuzzy socks, Hannah was already in the living room with Allie.
Both of them sitting on the couch.
Both staring at me with suspicious expressions.
“I don’t like intervention faces,” I muttered while heading straight for the kitchen.
“It’s not an intervention,” Hannah replied way too quickly.
I slowly opened the fridge.
“This is definitely an intervention.”
Allie completely ignored my comment.
“So.”
I grabbed a bottle of water.
“It’s not,” Hannah insisted with a laugh. “I just have a fun fact. Garrett said the guys on the team think Logan’s jealous of him.”
I stopped midway to the kitchen.
Allie frowned immediately.
“Jealous? Of what?”
“Me and Garrett,” Hannah answered with a shrug.
“Like… your relationship?” I asked, grimacing slightly as I leaned against the counter.
“Yeah, I don’t know…”
Hannah shrugged again while Allie smiled amusedly.
“His girlfriend?”
“No, Logan doesn’t like me. He’s not the asshole type. He’s actually nice.”
A nasal laugh escaped me involuntarily while I opened the fridge. Both of them looked at me immediately. I calmly grabbed my water bottle before shutting the door.
“What?” Hannah asked suspiciously.
I shook my head while taking a sip.
“Nothing. I’m just trying to imagine John Logan being nice.”
Allie immediately burst out laughing.
“You knew him for literally five minutes.”
“Five minutes was enough to discover he’s an ogre.”
Hannah raised an eyebrow.
“Logan?”
“Yes, Logan. Your emotionally constipated hockey friend.”
Allie shifted on the couch, suddenly invested.
“Wait. What happened?”
I sighed quietly before walking closer to the living room.
“I bumped into him leaving the rink and the asshole acted like I committed a federal crime against hockey.”
Hannah started laughing.
“That doesn’t sound like him.”
“Well, maybe I bring out violence in people.”
“Dramatic,” Allie muttered.
I pointed my water bottle at her.
“He called me clumsy and said I don´t know how to skate properly.”
“And what did you call him?” Hannah asked, already smiling because she clearly knew I hadn’t stayed quiet.
I crossed my arms.
“Mr. Arrogant.”
Both of them exploded into laughter.
“Oh my God.” Allie practically collapsed against the couch laughing. “You called John Logan arrogant to his face?”
“With pride. Besides, it wasn’t even the first time I ran into him, okay?”
“Bumping into him doesn’t count,” Hannah pointed out and I rolled my eyes because it wasn’t just bumping into him. John Logan had somehow managed to spread me a nickname within three weeks of me being at Briar U.
“Fine, Hannah. I’ll start calling you Ice Heart too.”
I pointed at her and the girls smiled softly at me.
“Sweetheart, it probably wasn’t even in a bad way.”
“It was. At least for me it was, because now everyone thinks I’m too scary to be in a relationship—even on the ice.”
Allie’s amused smile faded almost instantly. Hannah got quieter too.
Because this wasn’t really about Logan. It was about everything else.
I sighed and dropped into the armchair beside them, hugging the water bottle against my chest.
“Ever since I got here it feels like everyone already decided who I am,” I murmured tiredly. “The rude skater. The difficult girl. The emotionally closed-off freak who can’t connect with her own partner on the ice.”
“Hey,” Allie said immediately.
I shook my head before she could continue.
“I didn’t mean to kill the mood. I just wanted to make it clear that John Logan has always been an asshole to me, but I don’t think he’s jealous of you guys, Hannah. I think maybe… he just wishes he had something real like you two.”
Hannah narrowed her eyes and Allie smiled knowingly.
“And how exactly would you know that?”
“Yeah, like… don’t you two haaate each other?”
They both grinned and I stared at them in horror at what they were implying.
“Me and Logan have nothing besides hatred.”
“Yeah, I don’t know about that…”
" Certainly, defending him like that about Hannah and Garrett..."
They both said it at the same time and I shook my head while heading toward my room.
“And with that, I’m going to bed. My back is killing me along with both of you.”
“Goodnight, Mrs. Logan!” Hannah shouted from the living room.
“Go to hell!” I yelled back immediately.
Both of them started laughing loudly while I left the room.
Idiots.
I shut my bedroom door behind me and collapsed onto the bed with a suffering groan.
My lower back felt like it had been run over. My ankle throbbed. And my head— My God.
My head was a disaster.
I stared at the ceiling for several long seconds. Then, against my will, I thought about him again.
John Logan.
The irritatingly calm way he spoke. The arrogance. The overly observant green eyes. The way he noticed my injured ankle immediately. I groaned loudly and buried my face in the pillow.
“I hate hockey players.”
That's part of a lie because maybe I specifically hated one, not all of them.
Yeah...maybe.
The next morning I woke up feeling even worse.
Fantastic.
Walking down the building stairs was practically a religious experience because of how badly my back hurt and when I entered the rink I almost wished a blade would run me over.
Will was already on the ice when I arrived. So was our coach. And both of them looked tense. That´s great, that´s a great sign.
Obviously i'm joking.
“Late,” the coach commented immediately.
“Two seconds.”
“In competition, two seconds eliminate you.”
I clenched my jaw.
“Yeah, I know that.”
Perfect. Amazing start to the day. Practice was a disaster from the beginning.
We missed a simple sequence. Will almost lost my hand during an entrance. I landed crooked on a jump because my ankle still hurt like hell. And it got worse every time I looked at our reflection in the massive rink reflection. We didn’t look like a pair. We looked like two strangers trying to survive each other.
“Again,” the coach ordered for the third time.
I inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the sweat running down the back of my neck.
One more time.
Another almost synchronized fall.
Another painfully awkward silence. When we finally stopped for water, Will dragged a hand through his blond hair, visibly frustrated.
“Have you heard what people are saying?”
I frowned immediately.
“About what?”
He hesitated. Terrible sign.
“About us. About the pair.”
My stomach twisted.
“What are they saying now?”
Will looked away before answering.
“That it doesn’t work because you’re bad at teamwork.”
That hit hard. But he kept going.
“And because you seem… distant. Cold on the ice.”
Ah.
Of course.
Ice Heart. I squeezed the water bottle too tightly.
“Some people also said they’ve never seen you with anyone. Like… romantically.”
I slowly lifted my eyes.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not the one saying it. I’m just repeating it.”
My face heated instantly.
Because that was humiliating.
Because apparently my nonexistent love life had become campus gossip.
“They think we have no chemistry,” Will continued more quietly now. “And me and coach were thinking maybe if people believed there was something between us off the ice… it would help during performances.”
I blinked slowly.
“What exactly are you suggesting?”
He shrugged.
“Couples sell in figure skating. They always have. Maybe we could fake date. Just until the season ends.”
I stared at him in absolute horror.
Oh my God.
No.
Anything but that.
“That won’t work,” I answered immediately.
Will frowned.
“Why not?”
I opened my mouth. And without thinking. Without reasoning. Without a single functioning neuron in my miserable body that morning—
“Because I’m seeing someone. And he wants to make things official soon.”
Silence.
Complete silence.
The coach immediately looked up from his tablet.
Will blinked twice.
“You’re… what?"
Shit.
Shit. Shit.
“It’s recent,” I invented quickly.
“Who?” Will asked suspiciously.
My brain completely short-circuited. Because I hadn’t thought that far ahead. And out of every possible person on that campus…Only one name appeared in my head.
Brown eyes. Arrogant smirk. Emotionally constipated ogre.
Oh my God.
“Logan.”
Silence.
This time was worse.
Much worse.
The coach literally lowered the tablet slowly.
Will stared at me like I’d just announced I was dating the president of the United States.
“John Logan? The hockey player?” he asked slowly.
Too late to take it back now.
I nodded once, trying to look convincing.
“Yeah.”
My heart started pounding so hard I thought I might throw up. Because that was a horrible lie. An absurd lie. A suicidal lie.
Because now I was faking one relationship to escape another one. Without my fake boyfriend even knowing about it.
English is not my first language, so please excuse any mistakes. And please forgive me if there are any mistakes about the series; I've only read the first book and honestly, I'm basing this on the Prime Video series and my own head, xoxo
Hi i loved ur physical fic I made that request it was good but I was expecting more fluff like reader just crawling on to his lap not to come off as rude but I wanted to let uk sorry if that was rude
COZY
Summary: You and Joe like to say that you love each other more.
Warnings: Cute, a little short. Just pure cuteness here. Reader is a writer.
P.S.: That's totally fine, I loved that you came to tell me that it wasn't what you wanted and I hope it makes you a little happier. It's not much, but it comforted me while I was writing.
MASTERLIST
It had been hours since you’d last seen each other. Not just four hours or something like that, but more or less sixty-two hours. And when you and Joe finally settled under the blankets in his apartment in New York, it was inevitable on your part after placing your mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table in front of the sofa and leaning over your boyfriend, whose face was lit only by the glow of the TV paused at the beginning of a movie.
It wasn’t snowing outside, but the wind was cold enough to make the windows icy, and that reflected inside the West Village apartment.
You climbed onto Joe’s body and sat on him, his hands immediately falling to your hips. Your hands went up to his messy hair, your fingers running through his brown strands down to the faded blonde tips, and you looked into his eyes, finding him already staring at you.
Joe looked at you with a kind of passion you thought couldn’t exist, the kind only movies showed happening, and feeling your heart race as if it were the first time being close to him was also inevitable.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
You asked with a hoarse, embarrassed laugh. Maybe you would never get used to the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, and how his hands found your skin as if you were something expensive… special.
“Because I love you so much. And you look pretty here with me. ”
He said with a silly smile on his lips that made you lean down and place a soft kiss over it.
“ Well, I love you more.”
With your cheeks flushed, you murmured, but it was loud enough for Joe to feel like the luckiest person in the world.
“That would be impossible. I caught myself writing all my songs about you lately.”
He said, pulling you closer to his chest.
“Do you want to make this a competition? I’ve been writing 510 pages of my novel where the prince is one hundred percent inspired by you.”
You said, and he laughed, cupping your cheeks with his hands.
“You’ve never let me read it, I can’t tell if that’s true.”
Joe shrugged, and you laughed loudly, throwing your head back.
“It’s not ready yet.”
You said, rolling your eyes and settling between his legs, snuggling under the soft blanket.
“But I can confirm, you would definitely be him. If I made a movie out of my book? There’s no one else.”
You went on, hugging his arms as they wrapped around your chest.
“So you would have to be the commoner who ends up with him in the story.”
You looked up in a playful way, and he lowered his head to look at you.
“Even if I acted like a pig?”
“My love, even if you messed up your lines twenty times and ruined every scene.”
He said, and you rolled your eyes dramatically, resting your head back on his chest again.
“I would make a good character.”
“You would. I just have this felling that you would be a great actress. ”
He agreed, stroking your arm while letting you choose whatever movie you wanted for that night.
" You do? "
" You have a pretty face and a way about you that people love, there's no secret."
He said, and you smiled, bringing your hand to his face.
" Thanks, love. I think that, besides your talent, that's why people love you so much, you have the magic dust of cinema."
You said it, and he laughed, kissing the palm of your hand that was caressing his cheek.
“I missed you.”
You mumbled, pressing play on the movie.
“It’s been two days, my love.”
He said, kissing the top of your head.
“I know… but it feels like something is off when we’re away from each other.”
You curled your shoulders in mild frustration, and Joe lowered his gaze to better observe your side profile.
“Jesus, I definitely love you more. In an uncontrollably greater way.”
He said, and you looked up with a small laugh escaping, which was swallowed by a kiss from him that came without warning.
The two of you were learning what it meant to be truly loved, and nothing compared to that.
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