Faking It With The Hockey Star

Harper’s POV

The moment I stepped onto campus, something felt wrong.

I couldn’t name it at first. Nothing looked different. Students hurried between buildings with coffee cups in their hands. Someone was skateboarding across the courtyard. Music drifted from a speaker outside the student union. Everything looked exactly the same as any other Monday morning.

Yet it wasn’t.

People were looking at me. Not glancing. Looking. Long enough that when I met their eyes, they quickly looked somewhere else. A strange knot tightened in my stomach. Maybe I was imagining it. Maybe I was tired. I tightened my grip on my backpack strap and kept walking.

Then I saw them.

Ethan and Vanessa. Standing outside the business building together like they belonged there, like the world made complete sense with them side by side. Vanessa was laughing at something. Ethan looked up the moment I came into view. Our eyes met across the courtyard and for one long second, neither of us moved.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t wave. He just looked at me with an expression I’d never seen from him before. Not anger. Something colder. Something that felt deliberate.

A chill ran through me. I looked away first and kept walking.

Ethan and Vanessa. Together. Whatever that combination meant, I already knew it couldn’t be good.

As I passed a cluster of students near the library steps, a fragment of conversation drifted toward me.

"I think Ethan was telling the truth."

I slowed without meaning to.

"I mean, first he said it. Now somebody else is saying the same thing online. There has to be something there."

Another voice. Quieter. Almost amused. "They’re saying she manipulated Ethan first. And when that didn’t work, she upgraded. To Justin."

A short laugh.

"It’s kind of suspicious."

I forced myself to keep walking. One foot in front of the other. Don’t look back. Don’t react. If I turned around right now, everyone would know I’d heard them. I kept my eyes forward and my chin up, even as my heartbeat climbed steadily higher with every step I took.

By the time I reached the classroom, my hands were trembling.

I couldn’t focus.

Professor Silas was discussing post-production workflows at the front of the room. Normally I would’ve filled half a notebook by now. Today the words washed over me without landing anywhere. Every few minutes I caught someone glancing in my direction before quickly looking away. Every small laugh made me wonder. Was it about me? Was I imagining it? I genuinely couldn’t tell anymore, and not being able to tell was somehow worse than knowing.

When class finally ended, I packed my laptop faster than I ever had. I just needed to get out.

Outside, the whispers hadn’t stopped.

"That’s her."

"The hockey player’s girlfriend."

"I heard she’s only dating him because he’s rich."

Someone snorted. "I’d date him too if he bought me cameras."

The words landed harder than I wanted them to. Because they didn’t know. They didn’t know about Mom. They didn’t know about the hospital, or the bills, or the nights I’d eaten instant noodles and pretended everything was fine so Emma and Noah wouldn’t worry. They didn’t know that I’d spent weeks arguing with Justin every time he tried to help me. They didn’t know him. They didn’t know me. Yet somehow, they’d already decided exactly who I was.

I kept walking. Head down. Faster now.

Every instinct I had told me to open my phone and see what people were saying. But I couldn’t. Not yet. If I looked now, I’d never make it through the rest of my errands. Finish everything first. Go home. Then deal with it.

An hour later, I sat alone on a bench outside the library.

The campus had grown quieter. Students were heading home for the afternoon. I stared at my phone sitting in my palm. I knew I shouldn’t open Instagram. I knew it the way you know touching something hot is a mistake before you do it anyway.

Curiosity won.

My notifications had exploded. Mentions. Tags. Messages. Shares. All of them flooding in faster than I could process. Someone had made an anonymous account. No profile picture. No real name. Just screenshots. Photos of Justin and me together. Clips from campus. Captions written in all capitals.

GOLD DIGGER EXPOSED.

USED ETHAN. NOW USING JUSTIN.

SHE ONLY DATES HOCKEY PLAYERS FOR WHAT THEY HAVE.

My breathing became uneven. I clicked the comments. That was a mistake.

Poor Justin.

She definitely has a type.

Didn’t Ethan warn everyone about her?

She saw money and ran.

Girls like this always do.

Then I saw names I recognized. Students from my university. People I’d sat in lecture halls with. Some had liked the post. Others had shared it. Someone had reposted it to their story. The account was spreading faster than I could follow.

I locked my phone. Then immediately unlocked it again, like some part of me still needed to confirm it was real. It was. Every comment still there. Every share still climbing.

My hands were shaking. I pulled my sleeves down to cover them, trying to look like someone who was just sitting on a bench and not quietly falling apart. It wasn’t working. My chest felt tight. My throat burned. I blinked hard, refusing to let myself cry here, in public, where anyone walking past could see.

A girl walked past the bench. She glanced at my face, then at her phone, then leaned toward her friend and whispered something. They both laughed softly.

Maybe it wasn’t about me. Maybe it was. At that moment it didn’t matter. It felt like everyone knew everything and had already made up their minds before I’d had a single chance to speak.

I lowered my face into my hands.

I wasn’t using Justin. I’d never used anyone. If anything, I’d spent weeks trying to convince him to stop spending money on me, trying to find ways to give back, trying to make sure he never thought for even a single second that I was with him because of what he could give me. I’d fought him about every gift. I’d argued about every bill. I’d hated how indebted it made me feel.

And yet.

To everyone scrolling past right now, I was just another poor girl chasing a rich athlete.

A tear landed on the back of my hand before I realized I was crying. Then another. I wiped them away quickly, pressing the backs of my fingers against my eyes. Around me, the campus kept moving. People laughing. Skateboards scraping the concrete. Life carrying on completely indifferent to mine.

"It’s not my fault." The words came out before I realized I was speaking out loud. I looked around quickly. Nobody was close enough to hear. I swallowed against the lump rising in my throat. "It’s not my fault I grew up with nothing." My voice cracked on the last word. I pressed my lips together to stop it from breaking further. "I just love him."

The admission sat in the empty air around me, quiet and raw and completely unplanned. I loved Justin. I hadn’t said it to him yet. I’d barely allowed myself to think it. But sitting here on this bench with strangers online deciding who I was based on a few photographs and someone else’s version of my story, it was the only true thing I had left to hold onto.

I stood abruptly, nearly knocking my backpack off the bench. I couldn’t stay here another minute. Not with everyone looking. Not with the whispers. Not with the comments still sitting open on my phone, refreshing themselves every few seconds.

I just needed to go somewhere else.

I shoved my phone into my pocket without looking at it again and walked toward the campus exit as quickly as I could without breaking into a run. Another vibration. Another notification. Then another. I didn’t take the phone back out. I just kept walking, head down, arms wrapped around my backpack straps.

But I couldn’t stop the thought echoing steadily in the back of my head with every step I took.

What if Justin sees all of this before I get home?

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!