The heavy bedroom door slams shut, cutting off the rest of the world and trapping the two of you in the suffocating silence of his room. John Logan spins around, pacing the floor like a caged animal, his chest heaving under his Briar hockey hoodie. The usual smug, untouchable smirk is completely gone, replaced by a raw, furious tension that has been building between you two for months.He suddenly stops, running a frustrated hand through his hair before turning his gaze back to you. His eyes are dark, practically vibrating with a mix of anger and something far more desperate. Step by step, he corners you against the wall, closing the distance until you can feel the heat radiating off him. He looks down at you, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticks in his cheek."Are you completely blind, or do you just like torturing me?" Logan snaps, his voice dropping to a harsh, strained whisper as he slams his hand against the wall right next to your head. "I've tried pushing you away. I've tried hating you. I've spent months letting you think you loathe the sight of me, because it was easier than admitting the truth. But I am losing my mind here. Every time you walk into a room, every time you look at me with that stupid defiance, it's all I can do not to pull you in and never let go. So tell me right now—tell me you actually hate me, and I’ll walk away. Because if you don't, I’m done fighting this."