Mag-log inIvy
The dorm room was a mess of clothes and excitement when I got back from the library. Lena stood in front of the mirror, trying on different tops and humming to herself. “Where are you heading?” I asked, dropping my bag on my bed. “Sophomore party tonight at the old fraternity house off campus,” she said brightly. “It’s supposed to be fun — music, decent drinks, no freshmen rules. You should come with me.” I hesitated. The photos. Asher’s stupid deadline. The six hundred shots still waiting on my laptop. But the thought of sitting alone in this room, obsessing over his pictures and replaying every humiliating moment, felt worse. “Can I come?” I asked. Lena’s face lit up. “Yes! But what about the pictures you’re supposed to send Asher?” I shrugged. “They can wait till tomorrow. I need a break.” She didn’t argue. Twenty minutes later we were walking across campus toward the pulsing bass of the party. Inside, the house was crowded and warm, lights low, music loud. Lena stuck with me at first, introducing me to a few people and encouraging me to loosen up. “You’re a freshman, but don’t let anyone catch on. Just smile and dance like you belong.” After a while, she squeezed my arm. “My friends from last year are over there. I’ll come check on you in a bit, okay? Have fun!” And then she was gone, disappearing into the crowd. I stood near the edge of the main room, nursing a cup of soda, feeling out of place. A few minutes later, a guy with an easy smile and a backward cap approached. “Hey, you look like you could use some company. First time at one of these?” I wasn’t particularly interested at first, but he persisted, friendly and relaxed. Eventually I replied. He introduced himself as Marcus, a sophomore in sports. I gave him my name. He offered to get me a real drink. I refused at first. “Come on, just one. It’s nothing crazy,” he said with a grin. “Helps with the nerves.” I thought of Lena’s advice about not seeming like a scared freshman. This was my fresh start. One drink wouldn’t hurt. I took it. The taste was awful — bitter and sharp — but I hid the grimace behind a small smile. It was my first time drinking alcohol. I sipped slowly while we talked about classes, campus life, and nothing too deep. Marcus did most of the talking. He was funny, chill, completely unlike Asher’s cold intensity. He noticed my cup getting low. “Here, have a little more. Lena actually sent me over earlier to keep you company. You’re in safe hands, I promise.” I glanced across the room and saw Lena watching us. She waved with a big smile. I relaxed a little and took another sip. The warmth spreading through me made everything feel softer, lighter. Marcus really was nice. Easy to talk to. Then the air shifted. Asher walked in. He scanned the room and stopped the moment he saw me. Surprise flashed across his face, quickly replaced by that familiar smirk. He crossed the room, ignoring everyone else. “Well, well. Look who’s suddenly into parties now.” I lifted my chin. “Whatever I choose to do with my life is none of your business, Asher.” He shrugged. “Fair enough. Where are the pictures?” “They’re not ready,” I said flatly. “You’ll get them tomorrow.” Asher scoffed. “You really thought I was joking about the end of today?” I didn’t answer. The alcohol made me feel bolder than I probably should have. Marcus glanced between us. “You know this guy?” “No,” I said quickly. “Can we go somewhere else?” Marcus nodded, helping me up. The room tilted a little. I stumbled. He caught me smoothly, one arm around my waist, guiding my hand across his neck to steady me. Before I could react, Asher was there. His hand closed around my wrist, firm and unyielding, and he pulled me away from Marcus. “Hey—” Marcus started. I twisted my arm, trying to yank free. “Let go of me!” Asher’s grip only tightened, not painful but impossible to break as he kept pulling me through the crowd toward the exit. I dug my heels in, stumbling awkwardly in the borrowed shoes, but he didn’t slow down. “I said let go!” I hissed, using my other hand to pry at his fingers. He ignored me completely, jaw set, eyes locked forward. Marcus caught up fast, shoving through people behind us. “Dude, she said let her go. What the hell is your problem?” Asher barely glanced at him. “Mind your own business.” Marcus stepped in front of us, blocking the way. “She’s not going anywhere with you. Back off.” The tension snapped. Asher released my wrist and shoved Marcus hard in the chest, sending him stumbling back into a group of people. Drinks spilled. Someone cursed. Marcus recovered quickly and swung at Asher, landing a solid hit to his shoulder. Asher retaliated instantly — a sharp push followed by a punch that caught Marcus in the jaw. The fight exploded. They crashed into a side table, knocking over bottles and cups. People shouted and backed away, forming a loose circle. Marcus was taller but Asher was faster and clearly more used to physical confrontations. He grabbed Marcus by the shirt and drove him back against the wall. “Stop it!” I yelled, my head spinning from the alcohol and the chaos. “Both of you!” Security or someone from the frat was already pushing through the crowd toward the commotion. Asher landed one more hit before he stepped back, breathing hard, his eyes burning as they locked on me. Marcus wiped blood from his lip, glaring. “You’re crazy, man.” Asher didn’t answer him. He just stared at me for another beat. “Ivy—” That was all he managed. I wrenched my arm back with everything I had and slapped him hard across the face. The sharp crack echoed in the quiet. Asher’s head jerked to the side. For a long moment, he just stood there, stunned. Then slowly, he turned back to look at me. Shock, disappointment, and raw anger warred across his expression. “You really shouldn’t have done that,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You really shouldn’t have, Ivy.” He stared at me for another heavy second, rubbing his jaw, then turned and walked away into the night without another word. I stood there shaking, my palm stinging, heart hammering in my chest. Marcus came rushing out a moment later, looking concerned. “You okay?” I nodded numbly, but I wasn’t sure I was.IvyThe evening practice had settled into a steady rhythm. The team was running drills, sticks clashing, skates carving sharp lines into the ice. I stayed on the sidelines, camera raised, trying to focus on my job instead of the way Asher kept glancing in my direction every few minutes.Things were stable and almost normal.Until Coach Harlan blew his whistle and waved me over.“Hart, come here for a second.”My stomach tightened. I lowered my camera and walked over to the bench where he stood. He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, looking unusually serious.“How are you doing today? I heard about the five points deducted from your scholarship,” he said without preamble. “That’s rough.”I nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes, Coach.”He sighed. “You know how these things work. Those points can follow you all the way to graduation, affect your overall standing, future recommendations, everything. As a scholarship student, there’s not much wiggle room.”I stayed quiet, grippi
IvyAsher looked up at the reporters, his expression shifting instantly from irritated to fiercely protective.“Look, guys, you want a statement? Here it is.” Asher’s voice carried down the corridor, deep and authoritative. He tilted his head down and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the top of my head. The unexpected softness of his lips against my hair made my breath hitch. “Ivy and I are together. What happened last night was just a fight. Couples argue, and unfortunately, things got loud, emotions ran high, and it looked worse on video. But we’re fine. We’re good. Now turn the cameras off and give us some space.”The reporters erupted with a barrage of new questions — When did you start dating? What about Jennie? Is this serious? — but Asher ignored them all. Keeping his arm locked securely around my shoulders, he steered me down the hall, forcing me to walk in perfect lockstep with him.Every eye in the athletic complex was glued to us. His body heat radiated against my side, hi
Ivy Girlfriend? I stared at Asher like he’d lost his damn mind. My brain was still short-circuiting from the kiss — the way his hands had cupped my face, the heat of his mouth, the way my stupid body had leaned into it for those few treacherous seconds. The moment we stepped inside the empty hockey lounge, I yanked my hand out of his and exploded. “Are you out of your mind?” I yelled, voice echoing off the walls. “There is no way in hell I’m dating you!” Asher scrubbed a hand over his face, looking as exhausted as I felt. “Tell that to Coach Harlan. He’s the one who suggested this. If the public thinks we’re in a relationship, the whole thing gets spun as a lovers’ quarrel instead of athlete misconduct. I get to stay on the team. You get to keep your scholarship.” I held up a hand. “Hold on. None of this is making any sense.” He kept talking like I hadn’t spoken, pacing in front of the lockers. “We have to think radical here, Ivy. The school doesn’t punish messy love lives. The
IvyI walked across campus clutching my bag like a lifeline, my steps slow and heavy. The meeting with the student adviser kept replaying in my head on an endless loop.The woman had been polite but firm, her expression unreadable as she reviewed the notes on her laptop.“The board is already reviewing your scholarship in light of the recent… incident,” she had said. “We’ll try to contain the situation, but only if the attention dies down quickly. Otherwise, you may have to forfeit the scholarship entirely.”She had paused, then added, “I’ll be in touch soon, Miss Hart.”Just like that. No “one more chance.” No warnings. Just the cold reality that everything I had fought for could be taken away.I thought back to the two years of endless applications, rejection letters, late nights filling out forms while Mom was in treatment, and the constant fear that someone like me didn’t deserve a shot at Northbridge. I had sacrificed so much to get here. And now, barely a week into the semester,
IvyI barely slept.After the chaos at the party, after the slap, after watching Asher walk away into the night, I had tossed and turned for hours. The alcohol had left me with a dull headache and a heavy sense of dread. I finally drifted off sometime close to dawn.“Ivy! Ivy, wake up!”Lena’s voice yanked me violently back to consciousness. She burst into the room, still in her pajamas, waving her phone like it was on fire.“Ivy, oh my God, wake up right now!”I sat up groggily, rubbing my eyes. My head pounded. “What… what time is it?”“You need to see this.” She shoved the phone into my hands, already playing a video.The clip was shaky, clearly filmed by someone in the crowd at the party. It started with Asher grabbing my wrist and pulling me away, then Marcus intervening. The fight exploded on screen — punches, shoving, drinks flying. Then the camera zoomed in on the moment I slapped Asher hard across the face. The audio caught the sharp crack perfectly.The caption above the vid
Ivy The dorm room was a mess of clothes and excitement when I got back from the library. Lena stood in front of the mirror, trying on different tops and humming to herself. “Where are you heading?” I asked, dropping my bag on my bed. “Sophomore party tonight at the old fraternity house off campus,” she said brightly. “It’s supposed to be fun — music, decent drinks, no freshmen rules. You should come with me.” I hesitated. The photos. Asher’s stupid deadline. The six hundred shots still waiting on my laptop. But the thought of sitting alone in this room, obsessing over his pictures and replaying every humiliating moment, felt worse. “Can I come?” I asked. Lena’s face lit up. “Yes! But what about the pictures you’re supposed to send Asher?” I shrugged. “They can wait till tomorrow. I need a break.” She didn’t argue. Twenty minutes later we were walking across campus toward the pulsing bass of the party. Inside, the house was crowded and warm, lights low, music loud. Lena stuck
I couldn’t sleep.I tossed and turned on my narrow dorm bed, the sheets twisting around my legs like restraints. Every time I closed my eyes, Asher’s face appeared — that split-second hesitation in the VIP room, followed by the cruel smirk as he shoved me out. Would he keep my secret? Or was he alr
The silence after the slap was deafening.For one heartbeat, the entire student lounge seemed to freeze. Then chaos erupted.Gasps turned into murmurs. Phones stayed raised, lenses pointed straight at us like weapons. Someone whispered, “Did she just slap the captain?” Another voice laughed nervous
The silence that followed Asher’s words was worse than laughter.I stood frozen at the entrance of the hockey club while twenty pairs of eyes bounced between us. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. Everyone seemed to be waiting for an explanation.For a moment, I foolishly hoped he had changed. Two years h
The acceptance email had been sitting in my inbox for exactly twelve minutes and thirty-seven seconds.Not that I was counting.My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped my phone while crossing the crowded university courtyard. One word stared back at me.Congratulations.It had taken two years of c







