Faking It With The Hockey Star

Justin’s POV

The sound of skates cutting across fresh ice was the only thing in my head for the first hour of practice.

"Again!" Coach’s whistle pierced the air.

I didn’t hesitate. I pushed off harder, keeping the puck glued to my stick as I weaved through the practice cones. Left. Right. Fake shot. Backhand. Snap. The puck slammed into the top corner of the net with a satisfying crack.

Coach nodded once. "Better."

I turned immediately and reset. Better wasn’t enough. Not this week. Not with the scouts arriving in a few days. Every drill mattered. Every pass. Every sprint. Every single shift on that ice. I wasn’t leaving any room for doubt in anyone’s mind, not the scouts, not Coach, not even myself.

Sweat had soaked through my practice jersey long before Coach finally blew his whistle. "That’s enough."

Nobody complained. Everyone was exhausted. Exactly how Coach liked it.

As the team headed toward the locker room in a tired, relieved mass, Coach’s voice stopped me. "Hayes." I skated back over, catching my breath. He waited until the last player had disappeared through the tunnel before speaking. "Everything okay at home?"

I already knew what he was asking. He wasn’t talking about my sleep schedule or whether I’d eaten breakfast. "My family’s doing better," I said.

He nodded. "And you?"

I leaned against my stick. "I’m okay."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

He studied me for a long moment. The kind of look that made you feel like he could see straight through everything you were pretending. "You’ve been carrying a lot," he said finally.

"I know," I replied. "But I’m handling it."

He didn’t answer immediately. He just looked at the ice, then back at me. "You’re practicing harder than ever," he said.

"I have to."

"You don’t," he said. I frowned. "You just have to keep showing up. Do your job. The rest takes care of itself." He clapped me once on the shoulder. "Now go shower. You smell terrible."

I laughed despite myself. "Thanks, Coach."

"I’m serious," he called after me.

The closer I got to the locker room, the louder it became. At first I assumed the guys were just messing around like usual. Then I heard Mason’s voice cut through the noise, sharper than normal. "What the hell is wrong with people?"

I pushed the door open. Every head turned toward me. The room went strangely quiet. Mason stood in the middle of the locker room with his phone in one hand, his face red in a way that only happened when something had genuinely made him angry.

"What happened?" I asked.

Nobody answered immediately. Mason walked over and held the phone toward me without a word. I looked down at the screen.

Photos of Harper. Photos of me. Headlines pulled from nothing. Captions written in all capitals. Comments. Thousands of them, pouring in faster than anyone could keep up with. My jaw tightened as I scrolled.

They were calling her a gold digger. They were saying she’d manipulated Ethan and moved on to someone richer when the opportunity presented itself. Someone had taken candid shots of Harper walking across campus, leaving the library, carrying her camera bag, and turned them into evidence of something she’d never done. The captions made my blood run hot.

I handed the phone back before I did something I’d regret. "When did this start?" I asked.

"This morning," Mason said. "Spread like wildfire."

Evan slammed his locker shut. "People seriously have no lives."

Ryan leaned forward from the bench across the room. "I can probably find whoever made it." Everyone looked at him. He shrugged. "I do cybersecurity. My roommate and I have tracked anonymous accounts before. If they were sloppy about it, I can probably figure out who’s behind it."

For one brief, satisfying second, the idea was genuinely tempting. I wanted answers. I wanted a name. I wanted to look whoever had done this in the eye and make absolutely certain they understood what they’d started.

Instead, I slowly shook my head. "Not yet."

Ryan frowned. "Why not?"

"The scouts." The room fell quiet. "They’re almost here. If we start chasing this right now, we’re doing exactly what whoever made that account wants. They want us distracted. They want us angry. They want us making mistakes." I looked around at my teammates, at the frustration written clearly on every face. "I know Harper. I know who she is. No anonymous account changes that." I glanced toward my phone sitting at the bottom of my bag. "I just need to make sure she’s okay first."

Mason nodded immediately. "She comes first. Always."

Before anyone else could respond, the locker room door opened again. Coach walked in. One slow look around the room told him everything he needed to know. His eyes moved from Mason’s phone to my face. He let out a long breath. "I don’t know what’s happening out there," he said, his voice impressively calm. "But I’m going to make something very clear."

Nobody moved.

"Whatever rumors are floating around this campus. Whatever social media nonsense. Whatever personal problems anyone in this room is dealing with." He pointed toward the tunnel. "They stay outside that door." He folded his arms and looked slowly at every single player. "The scouts don’t care who started a rumor. They don’t care who was right. They care whether you can stay focused under pressure. That’s it."

Complete silence.

"If I catch one player adding fuel to any drama this week, you’re off the ice. I don’t care who you are. Captain. Freshman. Top scorer. Bench player. I’ll sit every last one of you if I have to." His eyes landed briefly on me. "Nothing is more important than your future this week." A long pause. "Understood?"

"Yes, Coach," the team answered.

He nodded. "Good. Now shower. You all smell worse than Hayes, and that’s genuinely impressive."

A few relieved laughs broke through the tension. People started moving again, pulling off gear, heading toward the showers, the noise gradually returning to normal. I sat down on the bench and reached for my phone.

I just needed to know she was okay. Just one message. One. That was all I needed before I could put it away and focus on what the next few days required of me.

The screen lit up before I even unlocked it.

Harper ❤️

Relief hit me so fast it almost felt physical. Then I read the preview beneath her name and every ounce of it disappeared.

Can you come get me? I don’t want to be here anymore.

I was already on my feet before I’d consciously decided to move. My skates were still on. I didn’t care. "Mason," I said.

He looked up immediately. "Go," he said, before I’d even asked.

I grabbed my bag and walked out without looking back.

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