Faking It With The Hockey Star

Harper’s POV

Thirty minutes later, my living room looked nothing like it usually did. The coffee table had been pushed against the wall, the couch had been rearranged, and my laptop was connected to the television, with the presentation screen waiting for someone to start.

I looked around the room and smiled. This was ridiculous, but somehow, it was exactly what I needed.

After practice, I had texted Ava and Mia and told them to come over with their presentations. Since all three of us were defending our documentaries tomorrow, we had decided to turn my house into a mock defense room, and everyone was invited.

Emma was sitting on one side of the couch with a notebook on her lap. Noah was beside her, already looking far too serious for someone who wasn’t even involved in the defense. My mom was sitting comfortably in the armchair, watching everything with a proud smile. Mason had taken the seat beside Ava, while Justin sat next to me. Somehow, everyone looked more nervous than we did.

I glanced at them. "Okay. Before we start, remember that tomorrow they’re going to ask questions."

Noah raised his hand.

I frowned at him. "What?"

He grinned. "Can I ask hard questions?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because you are a kid."

"I’m NOT!!."

"That doesn’t make it better."

Everyone laughed, even Justin. I noticed immediately that his laugh was lighter tonight, and the tension I had seen in his eyes at the rink was almost gone. That made me breathe much easier.

Ava went first. She stood in front of the television, adjusted her blouse, and took a deep breath. "Okay. I’m ready."

Mason immediately sat up straighter. "Let’s go, babe!"

Ava laughed. "You’re embarrassing me."

"I’m supporting you."

"You sound like my mother."

"Your mother loves me."

The room erupted in laughter. Ava shook her head before walking everyone through her documentary, explaining her concept, her creative choices, the challenges she faced during production, and why she had chosen her subject. Whenever she stumbled, Mia quietly whispered encouragement, and whenever she answered something particularly well, Mason clapped like she had just won an Oscar.

By the time she finished, everyone was smiling.

"That was good," my mom said.

Ava exhaled softly. "Really?"

"Very good."

Mason stood and applauded dramatically. "That’s my girl!"

Ava covered her face with her hands. "Oh my God."

We all laughed, and then Mia went next. She was more composed than Ava, but I could see the nerves underneath her confidence. When she finished, everyone applauded again.

Then it was my turn, and my stomach immediately tightened into knots. I stood up and walked toward the television, and suddenly, all the laughter in the room disappeared.

I looked at the screen where the title of my documentary appeared. This was the project that had consumed months of my life, the thing that had almost been taken away from me, and the piece of work that had survived everything thrown at it.

I took a deep breath. "Good evening."

Noah whispered loudly, "Professor Harper."

Everyone laughed, and I smiled. "Thank you for joining me today."

I started my presentation, and slowly, I forgot that this wasn’t the real defense. I talked about the hockey team, about why I had chosen the subject, and about the athletes behind the headlines. I spoke about pressure, about identity, and about what happened when cameras stopped filming the game and started filming the actual people.

I talked about the challenges I had faced while making it, the footage I had almost lost, and rebuilding parts of the project from scratch. I spoke about the people who had helped me along the way.

When I finished, I looked around the room to find everyone quiet. Then my mom started clapping.

"That was my girl," she said proudly.

The others joined in right away, and I bowed dramatically. "Thank you. Thank you."

Noah stood up. "Professor, I have a question."

I groaned. "Of course you do."

He picked up his notebook. "What was the hardest part of making your documentary?"

I thought about it carefully. "The hardest part wasn’t filming." I looked over at Justin. "It was continuing when I thought I might lose everything I’d worked for."

Justin’s expression softened completely, and my mom smiled.

Noah nodded like he had just received the answer to the most important question in the world. "Good answer."

"Thank you, Professor Noah."

He grinned as Emma took over. "What would you do differently if you had another chance?"

I answered her, and then Mia asked another question, followed by Ava. Even Mason got involved.

"Would you say dating a hockey player improved your documentary?"

The entire room burst into laughter. I pointed directly at him. "That question is irrelevant."

Justin laughed beside me. "I agree."

Mason shrugged. "I’m just asking."

Eventually, Ava, Mia, and I were all standing together in front of the room. We looked at each other and took a dramatic joint bow while everyone applauded.

My mom’s eyes were shining with tears. "See?" she said when I walked back toward her. "I told you not to worry."

I smiled, crouching beside her armchair. "You did."

"My girl, you did so well."

"You really think so?"

"I know so," she squeezed my hand gently. "Tomorrow is going to be fine."

I swallowed down my nerves. "I hope so."

"It will."

I looked around the room at everyone smiling. For once, I wasn’t thinking about what could go wrong; I was thinking about what came after: graduation, a career, and a life outside university. Maybe even a life with Justin that wasn’t constantly surrounded by some new disaster. The thought brought a real smile to my face.

Then Justin stood up. "Okay." Everyone looked at him. "I need to study."

I groaned playfully. "Right."

He pointed at me. "And you said you’d help me."

"I did."

"Then let’s go."

I looked over at my mom. "I’ll be back later."

She waved me off with a warm grin. "Go and help that boy pass his exams."

Justin laughed. "Thank you, ma’am."

I grabbed my bag. "Come on, Mr. Sports Management."

He held the front door open for me. "After you, Professor."

I rolled my eyes. "Very funny."

A little while later, we were sitting at Justin’s kitchen table. His textbooks, flashcards, notes, and highlighters were spread everywhere, looking as if someone had thrown an entire semester onto the table.

I picked up the first flashcard. "Okay."

He leaned back in his chair. "I’m ready."

"What are the primary functions of sports management?"

He answered immediately without missing a beat. "Planning, organizing, staffing, directing, controlling, and evaluating."

I looked up at him. "Good." I picked up another card. "What is the importance of sponsorship in professional sports?"

"Revenue, brand exposure, relationship building, fan engagement..." He continued without hesitation.

I smiled, noticing that the frustration, anger, exhaustion, and grief I had seen in him earlier were quieted. They were still there somewhere, but they weren’t controlling him anymore. He looked calmer, as if he were finally beginning to breathe again.

I put the cards down. "You know you’re actually good at this, right?"

He smiled faintly. "I know."

"Wow."

"What?"

"Nothing," I laughed, picking up another card. "Next."

He groaned dramatically. "You’re enjoying this."

"Absolutely."

For the next hour, we studied. Sometimes he got the answers immediately, sometimes I caught him trying to bluff his way through something he clearly hadn’t revised, and sometimes we got distracted and ended up laughing over something completely unrelated.

Eventually, Justin leaned back heavily in his chair. "I’m so tired."

"I know."

He looked at me, his gaze serious. "I just want this to be over."

I understood exactly what he meant: not just the exams, but everything. The university, the drama, the scandals, his father’s betrayal, and the constant pressure.

"I can’t wait either," I admitted softly.

He reached across the table and took my hand into his. "I just want us to move forward."

"Me too."

He squeezed my fingers gently. "Greater things."

I smiled back at him. "Greater things."

For the first time in a long time, the future didn’t feel like something waiting to hurt us. It felt like something waiting for us, and tomorrow, we would take one more step toward it.

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