Faking It With The Hockey Star

Harper’s POV

I thought walking out of the auditorium would feel like walking out of a battlefield, but instead, I felt strangely empty. Not sad, not disappointed, just completely exhausted. I had spent so many months obsessing over this moment that I hadn’t stopped to imagine what would happen after it.

I had defended my documentary. I had answered every question. I had watched Professor Silas smile at me with that proud look he had carried since the beginning. And now it was over. At least, one major part of it was.

I was halfway down the hallway when I heard his voice call out behind me. "Harper."

I turned to see Professor Silas standing by the auditorium doors with a thick folder tucked underneath his arm. "Yes, Professor?"

"Do you have a few minutes?"

I nodded without hesitation. "Of course."

I followed him into his office, and the moment the door closed behind us, he placed the folder gently on his desk. He turned to look at me. "How are you feeling?"

I let out a soft laugh. "Honestly?"

"Honestly."

"I think I could sleep for three days straight."

He chuckled warmly. "I believe you."

I sat down in the chair opposite him while he opened the folder. "Now, before we discuss anything else, I want you to know that you did very well today," he said sincerely. "I’m proud of you."

My smile grew. "Thank you."

Then he turned the folder around so it faced me. "Now comes the difficult part."

I frowned, leaning forward. "Difficult?"

"Choosing."

I stared at the papers spread inside. "Choosing what?"

"Your internship."

My stomach did a quick flip. "Oh."

He smiled reassuringly. "You’re the last person in your group to make a decision."

He began laying out the official offer letters across his desk one by one. "This one is in California," he said, sliding a document toward me. "Production assistant placement. Excellent studio, very competitive. They’d give you hands-on experience across several major productions."

He laid down another paper. "Texas. A smaller company, but you’ll be working directly with their documentary division. Far more responsibility."

Then another. "Los Angeles."

I stared at the numbers printed on the page. The stipend alone was significantly more money than I had expected.

"They’re offering housing assistance, transportation, meals during production days, and a monthly stipend," Professor Silas explained.

I blinked in surprise. "Wow."

"Exactly," he smiled, sliding another document over. "New York. This one has one of the strongest development programs I’ve seen for a graduating student."

Finally, he placed down a letter from Washington: another prestigious production company, another generous offer, another incredible opportunity, and another possible future.

I stared at the array of papers spread across his desk. They represented everything I had dreamed about when I first decided to become a filmmaker. And somehow, instead of feeling pure excitement, I felt a rush of fear.

Professor Silas noticed my expression right away. "You’re thinking about your family."

I looked up, meeting his eyes. "Yes."

He nodded gently. "I thought so." He leaned back in his chair. "Harper, I’m going to tell you something as your professor, and maybe a little as someone who has watched you grow."

I offered a faint smile.

"You have options now," he said, pointing toward the offers. "Real options. Some of these companies would have taken you immediately if you had applied a year ago, but now they’re coming to you."

My throat tightened with emotion as he continued. "And I’m not going to tell you which one to choose."

"I want you to take your time," he added.

"How much time do I have?" I asked.

"Until January."

I blinked. "January?"

"They’ve all agreed to keep the offers open," he smiled. "You don’t need to make a decision tomorrow. Most of these programs don’t begin until early next year anyway."

I let out a deep breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. "That’s good."

"You’ve spent the last several months fighting to finish this documentary under pressure from every direction," his expression softened completely. "You are allowed to breathe."

I smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

"And think carefully," he cautioned gently. "Not just about money."

"I know."

"Think about where you want to live, what kind of filmmaker you want to become, what kind of company you want to work for, and what kind of experience you want," he paused, his voice turning quieter. "And think about what you’re willing to leave behind."

That line hit harder than I expected. My eyes fell back to the papers on the desk: California, Texas, Los Angeles, New York, Washington. Every city represented something fresh and new, but every city also meant leaving everything behind. My mom, Emma, Noah, my home, my friends, and Justin.

Especially Justin.

He hadn’t even finished his own exams yet. He still had his hockey season, and his future was beginning to take shape too. How were we supposed to figure out two completely different futures when they could pull us in opposite directions?

Professor Silas seemed to read my mind perfectly. "Don’t make a decision because you’re afraid of losing someone," he said gently. "And don’t reject an opportunity because you’re afraid of change."

I swallowed hard. "That’s difficult."

"I know," he closed the folder in front of him. "But that’s adulthood."

I laughed softly. "That’s a terrible advertisement for adulthood."

He laughed with me. "Unfortunately, it’s accurate." Then he reached for one more document on his side desk. "There’s one more thing."

I looked at him expectantly.

"The university has officially approved your documentary funding reimbursement."

My eyes widened. "Really?"

He nodded. "You’ll need to fill out this form and submit the required documents." He handed the paperwork over to me.

I stared down at the forms in my hands. After everything we had gone through, even this was finally falling into place. "Thank you."

"Don’t thank me yet. Just fill out the paperwork correctly," he teased.

I laughed. "I will."

I gathered the documents carefully, tucking them together. "Can I take these home?"

"Of course."

"I really want to sit down and think about everything before I make a final decision."

"That’s exactly what I want you to do."

I stood up from my chair. Then, before I could overthink it, I walked around his desk and pulled him into a warm hug. He seemed surprised for half a second before wrapping his arms around me in a supportive embrace.

"Thank you," I whispered softly. "For everything."

He patted my back kindly. "You don’t have to thank me."

"I do," I said, pulling back to look at him. "You’ve been more than my professor. You’ve looked out for me. You’ve been like a parent to me."

His eyes softened completely. "And you’ve made me very proud."

My eyes burned with tears. "I’m serious."

"So am I," he squeezed my shoulder firmly. "I’m proud of you, Harper. Now go home."

I laughed, wiping at my eyes. "That’s it?"

"Yes. You’ve given me enough homework for one day," he pointed toward his office door with a grin. "Go."

I picked up my folder. "Okay."

"And Harper?"

I turned back at the doorway. "Yes?"

He smiled warmly. "Whatever you choose, choose the life you actually want."

I nodded firmly. "I will."

I walked out of his office, feeling the heavy shift in the air. For the first time, the future didn’t feel like one single, straight road. It looked like five different paths branching out wide in front of me: California, Texas, Los Angeles, New York, and Washington.

I stopped in the quiet hallway and looked down at the folder in my hands, my mind drifting toward home: Mom, Emma, Noah, my family, my life, and Justin. Could I really leave all of them behind?

I swallowed down the lump in my throat. Then another offer flickered in my memory: the one located in my father’s state. I didn’t even need to consider that one. Absolutely not. There was no universe in which I was moving to the same state as that man; I would rather take almost anything else in the world.

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