Faking It With The Hockey Star

Harper’s POV

Professor Silas didn’t say a word for several seconds. He simply stared at me. Then at the university laptop resting on his desk. Then back at me. "Start from the beginning," he said.

I took a slow breath and did exactly that. I told him everything. The missing interview. The activity logs. Ryan tracing the remote login to a different device. The recovery cache. The hard drives. The new laptop. By the time I finished, he had taken off his glasses and was rubbing the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed.

"This," he said finally, letting out a slow breath, "is no longer university drama."

"I thought so too," I said quietly.

He shook his head. "Students spread rumors. They pull childish pranks. They don’t usually break into another student’s editing project with enough technical knowledge to delete specific files and leave everything else untouched." His expression became very serious. "Someone intentionally targeted your work. Which means they weren’t trying to embarrass you. They were trying to stop you."

A chill ran through me. "I know."

He folded his hands on the desk. "So listen to me very carefully." I nodded. "You need to be careful. If anyone asks to borrow your laptop, the answer is no. If anyone asks for your project files, the answer is no. If anyone asks for your passwords for any reason at all, the answer is no." He pointed toward me. "From this moment on, protect that documentary like it’s your passport. Do you understand?"

"I do," I said.

"And if anything else happens, you call me immediately. Not tomorrow. Not after you’ve tried to handle it yourself. Immediately."

I smiled. "I will."

His expression softened. "Good." Then, to my surprise, he reached for another folder sitting on the corner of his desk. "Oh. I almost forgot. This wasn’t the only reason I was waiting for you."

I frowned. "What?"

He pulled out a printed email and handed it across the desk. I looked down. The header carried the logo of one of the country’s most respected documentary production companies. My eyes widened before I’d even finished reading the first line.

"What," I whispered.

"They saw some of your publicly shared work," Professor Silas said. "Clips from the hockey team footage you posted. They contacted the department." He paused. "They’re inviting you to apply for an internship position next semester."

My heart stopped completely. "What?"

"They specifically asked if you’d be interested," he said.

I stared at the email. My hands actually started shaking. "They’re asking for me specifically?"

He nodded. "They are."

I laughed once. A short, disbelieving sound. "I don’t understand how."

"You don’t have to understand it," he said gently. "Talent attracts attention. That’s all this is."

I looked back at the email. Then noticed another folder sitting underneath it on the desk. Professor Silas quickly placed his hand over it. I looked up. "What’s that?"

He chuckled. "More letters."

I blinked. "What?"

"I’ve been collecting them," he said. He said it so casually that it took me a moment to process. "You’ve had several people asking about your documentary and your work over the last week. Film festivals. Graduate programs. Another internship inquiry." He held up a hand before I could react. "I haven’t shown you any of them because you’ve had enough to deal with. I wanted you focused on finishing the documentary and graduating first."

Emotion welled in my chest before I could stop it. "So," I managed.

He tapped the folder. "When everything settles down, we’ll sit together and go through every opportunity. I’ll help you understand what each one means and which one gives you the strongest foundation going forward."

I couldn’t stop smiling. "Thank you. I genuinely mean that."

He waved a hand dismissively. "I’m doing my job."

"You’re doing more than that," I said.

His smile turned almost fatherly. "I’m investing in someone who deserves it," he said simply. There was a brief silence. Then his eyes drifted toward the silver laptop tucked under my arm. "So. What are you editing on now?"

I looked down at it and laughed softly. "I have a MacBook now."

His eyebrows lifted. "Oh?"

"Justin bought it for me," I said.

Professor Silas leaned back in his chair with the particular expression of someone who was not even slightly surprised. "I thought he might," he said.

I laughed. "I tried arguing."

"I’m sure you did," he replied.

"I lost," I admitted.

"I’m not surprised," he said. "He’s a stubborn young man." He paused. "But he’s a good one."

Warmth crept into my cheeks. Professor Silas smiled knowingly. "You two complement each other. You dream. He protects. You push him to become a better person. He gives you the confidence to chase bigger things." He nodded once. "That’s rarer than people think."

I looked down, smiling to myself. "I think you’re right," I said quietly.

He stood and walked around the desk, stopping beside me and squeezing my shoulder gently. "Keep your head up. You’re almost there." He smiled. "And tell your mother I said hello."

"I will," I said.

"And don’t forget to sleep."

I laughed. "I’ll try."

He pointed at me playfully. "You’ll do more than try."

"Yes, Professor," I said, still laughing as I stepped back out into the hallway.

Justin was leaning against his truck when I pushed through the building’s front doors. The moment he saw my face, he straightened. His eyes searched my expression, already braced for bad news. Instead, I ran to him. Before he could say a word I wrapped both arms around his neck. He caught me effortlessly, laughing in surprise. "Whoa. What happened?"

I kissed him quickly before hugging him tighter. He laughed again. "I’ll take that as good news."

I pulled back just enough to grin at him. "It is. I’ll tell you everything." His smile grew. "I can’t wait," he said.

Before I could say another word, my phone rang. I looked at the screen.

Grandma Eleanor ❤️

I answered immediately. "Hello?"

"My beautiful granddaughter," her warm voice filled the line.

I couldn’t stop smiling. "Hi, Grandma."

"I’ve been thinking," she said cheerfully. "I haven’t seen you in days. So I’m stealing you tomorrow. I’ve already planned everything."

I laughed. "Stealing me?"

"Yes. I want a girls’ day."

I looked at Justin. He was very obviously pretending not to listen while listening to every word. "I’d love that," I said.

"Wonderful." Then Justin leaned toward the phone. "What about your favorite grandson?"

A dramatic pause followed. Then Grandma sighed loudly. "Who?"

Justin placed a hand over his heart. "Grandma!"

"Oh," she said thoughtfully. "Are you still there?"

"I’m devastated," he said.

"I only called for Harper," she replied pleasantly.

Justin groaned. "So I’ve been replaced?"

"Completely," she confirmed. "You may drop her off tomorrow. But then you may leave. I need quality time with my granddaughter."

Justin shook his head dramatically. "I see how it is. After everything I’ve done."

"I raised you better than this," he added.

"No, sweetheart," Grandma replied without missing a single beat. "I raised you. And now I’m choosing Harper."

All three of us laughed at the same time. For the first time in what felt like a very long time, there were no threats or rumors or fear sitting underneath the laughter. Just three people on a phone call, happy.

As I slipped my phone back into my pocket, neither Justin nor I noticed the notification that had quietly appeared on his screen.

Unknown Number: Enjoy your little victories while you can. Tomorrow changes everything.

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