Chapter 2

Ava’s POV

As Logan made his way through the crowd, shaking hands and greeting employees, I knew I couldn't avoid him forever. Our paths were about to cross once more, and I had to be prepared for whatever came next.

The sound of my co-worker’s scream sliced through the steady hum of the office, sharp and abrupt. My head snapped toward the commotion, and so did everyone else’s.

The scream wasn’t blood-curdling, more like the excited, high-pitched kind you’d hear at a concert. And as I followed everyone’s gaze, I realized why.

Logan.

He was standing at the entrance of our open-floor workspace, his presence commanding without effort. His tailored suit fit him like a second skin, and his dark hair, slightly tousled, looked too perfect to be accidental. His eyes scanned the room, calm and assessing, until they landed on me.

I froze.

Our eyes locked, and time seemed to stretch unnaturally thin. My heart thundered in my chest, the sound deafening in my ears. The recognition in his gaze was instant, his gray eyes narrowing slightly as if to confirm it was really me standing there.

My hands felt clammy, and before I could muster a single coherent thought, I moved—just a little, just enough to accidentally nudge my mug of coffee.

The mug toppled over.

In my startled state, my hand knocked over my coffee cup, sending the hot liquid spilling across my desk and onto my clothes.

"Oh no," I muttered, feeling the warmth seep into the fabric and the embarrassment rising in my chest.

“Are you okay, Ava?” Emma’s voice reached me, concerned but distant, drowned out by my pounding heartbeat.

I forced a smile, despite the turmoil inside. "Just a little accident with my coffee. I'll be fine."

I couldn’t look up. I didn’t need to. I could feel his gaze still on me, heavy and piercing, like a spotlight that wouldn’t turn off.

Emma asked again, her expression concerned. "Are you sure everything's okay?"

I nodded, trying to brush off the incident. "It's nothing. I'll clean up and be right back."

I grabbed my bag, clutching it against my chest as I hurried toward the bathroom. I didn’t dare glance at him again as Logan's piercing blue eyes remained fixed on mine, concern and surprise etched on his face. I couldn't bear the thought of facing him in this state, not now.

The bright, sterile lighting of the bathroom felt like a reprieve, a quiet escape from the chaos outside. I dropped my bag on the counter and stared at myself in the mirror, my reflection just as frazzled as I felt.

There it was—the spreading stain on my blouse, a glaring reminder of how ridiculous this day had become.

“Get it together, Ava,” I muttered under my breath, grabbing a paper towel and dabbing at the fabric. The coffee had already soaked in, and the more I rubbed at it, the worse it seemed to look.

Why did it have to be him? Of all the people, why Logan?

I leaned against the sink, taking a deep breath, trying to steady the storm of emotions swirling inside me. Embarrassment, anger, anxiety—they all churned together, leaving me feeling raw and unmoored.

Logan.

The name echoed in my mind, sharp and unwelcome. Memories I’d worked so hard to bury threatened to resurface, but I shoved them back down where they belonged.

This wasn’t the time to unravel. I couldn’t afford it.

I splashed some water on my face, hoping the coolness would help me regain some composure. The bathroom door creaked open, and I flinched, half-expecting Emma to come rushing in with more questions or, worse, Logan himself.

But no one came in. Just the sound of muffled voices outside, a reminder that the world was still spinning, still expecting me to step back into it.

I gripped the edge of the sink, staring at my reflection as though I could will myself into calmness.

You’re strangers now, Ava.

"It's okay, Ava," I whispered to myself, my voice trembling. "You and Logan are strangers now. There's no need to act so un-calm."

That had been my mantra ever since I saw him. Logan and I were nothing more than two people who happened to cross paths in this ridiculously small, ironic world. No lingering connections, no reason to act like my pulse had been set on fire just from his presence.

I smoothed my hands over my blouse, now sporting a faint coffee stain I couldn’t completely erase, and forced a deep breath into my lungs.

With one last glance at the mirror, I straightened my posture and took a deep breath. My blouse was a disaster, but I could deal with that later. Right now, I needed to survive the day.

At least, that’s what I told myself as I pushed open the bathroom door and stepped back into the chaos. And stopped dead in my tracks.

There he was.

Logan stood at the corner of the hallway, casually leaning against the wall like he owned the place. His posture was deceptively relaxed, but his gaze—sharp, calculated, and focused entirely on me—made my stomach flip.

The faint hum of the office buzzed in the background, but in that moment, it all faded into a quiet, nerve-racking stillness.

He hadn’t even moved, but Logan had a way of commanding attention that was both infuriating and magnetic. Always had. Always would.

The urge to turn around and retreat back into the bathroom was overwhelming, but that would only prove his point. I wasn’t that girl anymore. I couldn’t be.

“I should get back to work,” I said quickly.

But as I walked away, I felt his gaze lingering on me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how much I wanted to pretend.

His gaze shifted for just a fraction of a second, landing briefly on the wall to his right.

The “Perfect Lover” art installation caught my eye, its ticking needles clicking forward in unison as though marking time—and fate.

I swallowed hard. Logan’s attention returned to me, his expression unreadable.