Faking It With The Hockey Star

Harper’s POV

My phone buzzed for what felt like the fiftieth time.

Ava: Breathe.

Mia: Seriously. Stop panicking.

I frowned at the screen. Me: What if he doesn’t like it?

Ava replied almost immediately. Ava: Harper. The man bought you flowers because you sneezed. He’s going to love it.

I couldn’t help smiling. Me: I still think the jersey is cheesy.

Mia: That’s the point.

Ava: He’s a hockey player. He’ll show it off like he won the Stanley Cup.

I laughed, shaking my head. Maybe they were right. Maybe I was overthinking it. Still, my stomach refused to calm down.

"I’m leaving!" I called out.

Mom looked up from the couch, a blanket draped over her legs. "So late?"

"Justin wanted to see me," I said.

A knowing smile spread across her face. "I figured."

Emma didn’t even bother looking up from her laptop. "You’re smiling too much," she said.

"I’m not," I replied.

"You are."

"I am not."

Noah looked over the back of the couch. "You’re blushing," he announced.

"I hate this family," I muttered.

Mom laughed. "Are you coming home tonight?"

I hesitated. "I don’t know."

She nodded. "If it gets too late, just stay over. I don’t want you taking a cab home after midnight."

"I know," I said.

"And text me when you get there."

"I will." I picked up the gift bag and was already halfway to the door when Mom called after me.

"Oh, and Harper?"

I turned around. "What?"

She smiled far too innocently. "Use protection."

"Mom!"

Emma burst into laughter. Noah nearly fell off the couch. Mom looked completely unapologetic. "What? I’m just being responsible."

I buried my face in my hands. "I’m leaving."

"You didn’t answer the question!" she called after me.

I groaned as I hurried out the door. "I love you too!" Their laughter followed me all the way outside.

By the time my ride pulled into Justin’s driveway, my hands were sweating. This was ridiculous. It was just a gift.

Justin opened the front door before I even knocked. "There you are," he said, the smile on his face immediately melting away every ounce of tension I’d been carrying.

He walked over without saying another word and wrapped me in a hug, his arms settling around my waist as though they’d always belonged there. "I missed you," he said.

I buried my face against his chest for a second. "I saw you yesterday."

"I know," he replied. "I still missed you."

I laughed softly. "You’re impossible."

"So I’ve been told."

When we finally stepped apart, I awkwardly held up the gift bag. "I got you something," I said.

His eyebrows lifted. "You did?"

I suddenly wanted the floor to open up and swallow me. "It’s not a big deal. It probably isn’t even that good. I can return it if—"

"Harper," he said gently, taking the bag from my hands. "I already love it."

"You haven’t even opened it," I said.

"I know who bought it," he replied simply. "That’s enough."

My heart squeezed. He sat down on the couch and carefully reached inside. The first thing he pulled out was the jersey. He unfolded it slowly. His name. Number nineteen. Custom embroidered. For a second he just stared at it. Then he laughed, a real laugh that filled the room. "No way." He immediately pulled it over his head without even taking off the shirt he was already wearing. "How do I look?" he asked.

I laughed. "A little bulky."

"Worth it." He looked down at himself with the biggest grin I’d ever seen. "I’m wearing this to practice."

"You are not," I said.

"I absolutely am."

"They’re going to make fun of you."

He shrugged. "They’re jealous. They don’t even know what it is yet." He pointed proudly at the front. "My girlfriend bought it. I’m never letting them hear the end of it."

I couldn’t stop smiling.

He reached back into the bag and pulled out the custom phone case. His grin somehow grew even wider. "Oh." He turned it over in his hands. The photo we’d used was from the documentary, one candid shot of us laughing after I’d nearly dropped my camera. "I forgot this picture existed," he said.

"I stole it from the editing folder," I admitted.

"I noticed." He immediately removed his current case. "No way."

"You don’t have to—"

"I do," he said firmly, and within seconds the new one was already on his phone. "There. Perfect."

Then came the little instant camera. He blinked. "Harper."

I suddenly felt nervous again. "I remembered you said you and the team never really take pictures together. And I thought maybe you could use it."

He looked down at the camera for several seconds. Then back at me. "You know," his voice was quieter now, "this is exactly what I needed."

"It is?" I asked.

He nodded. "We have thousands of hockey photos. But almost none of us just being friends. I’m fixing that."

He carefully set everything back into the bag before standing. Then he looked at me. "My turn," he said.

I frowned. "What?"

He pointed toward the middle of the living room. Only then did I notice it. A huge gift box, wrapped neatly with a dark blue ribbon. I stared. "Justin."

"What?"

"No," I said.

He laughed. "What do you mean no?"

"I mean no," I said, pointing at the box. "It looks expensive."

He folded his arms. "So does your face."

I blinked. "What?"

"I panicked," he said. "I didn’t know what else to say."

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. "That was terrible."

"I know," he admitted. "But you’re smiling now." He nudged the box closer with his foot. "Open it."

Slowly, I untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. The first thing I saw was a shoebox. I frowned. Shoes? I opened it. "No way."

The exact sneakers I’d stopped to look at twice in the mall last month. The same ones I’d told myself I’d buy after the documentary payment came through. I looked up. "Justin."

"There are more," he said.

I swallowed. Underneath was another box. The same shoes in black. Then another in cream. Three pairs. My eyes were already stinging.

I reached deeper. My fingers brushed against something familiar. A camera lens. I froze. Slowly, I lifted it out. Then another. Extra batteries. Memory cards. A microphone. Tripod. Cleaning kit. Camera backpack. Finally, the camera body.

My hands began to shake. "No," I whispered. "No."

Justin took a cautious step closer. "I remembered," he said.

That was it. Not I bought you something expensive. Not look how much I spent. Just I remembered. The tears came before I could stop them. "You weren’t supposed to buy this," I said, laughing through them.

He smiled softly. "You weren’t supposed to buy me anything either. But you wanted to. So did I."

I looked down at everything spread across the floor. "This is too much. I’ve been taking from you ever since we met. You paid for Mom’s surgery. You’ve helped us. You gave me money. I finally wanted to be the one giving something back." My voice cracked.

He closed the distance between us until we were standing only inches apart. "Harper," he said. I looked up. "I’ve never seen it that way. You keep saying you’ve been taking from me." He gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "I don’t think you’ve taken a single thing. You’ve given me more than you realize."

"What?" I asked.

"You gave me someone to come home to," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You gave me peace. You gave me a reason to want to be better. So please, don’t ever think we’re keeping score."

For a moment, all I could do was stare at him. Then, because I desperately needed to do something before I cried even harder, I picked up the tripod. "I should figure out how this works," I said.

Justin crouched beside me. "I can help."

"You know how?" I asked.

"Absolutely," he said confidently.

Five seconds later, one of the legs detached completely and clattered across the hardwood floor. We both stared at it. Silence.

I looked at him. "You lied."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "A little," he admitted.

I burst into laughter. "So did you!" he said.

"What?"

"You pretended to understand cameras yesterday."

"I understood," he paused thoughtfully, "your enthusiasm."

I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. He joined in. The tripod still lay in pieces between us. Neither of us cared. Because somewhere between the gifts, the laughter, and the tears, I realized something. Justin hadn’t just remembered the camera I wanted. He’d remembered me. And somehow, that meant even more.

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