Faking It With The Hockey Star

Chapter 3: One Crazy Proposal

Haper’s POV

"You ruined my project!"

The words exploded out of me the second we stepped outside the arena. Students turned to stare. I didn’t care. For the first time since Ethan had thrown my future into a trash can, anger was finally winning against heartbreak.

Justin looked completely unimpressed. "What are you talking about?"

"What am I talking about?" I repeated incredulously. "You just told the entire hockey team I’m your girlfriend!"

Before he could answer, the locker room doors burst open behind us.

"Ethan, don’t!" Somebody yelled.

Too late.

Ethan stormed out of the building, his face red with fury. "Harper!"

I turned instinctively. Big mistake.

Justin grabbed my wrist, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to stop me. "Don’t."

I looked up at him. "What?"

"Don’t look at him."

The command in his voice caught me off guard. Ethan was already crossing the parking lot.

"Harper, what the hell is going on?"

Justin muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse, then opened the passenger door of a sleek black SUV.

"Get in."

My jaw dropped. "No."

"Get in."

"No!"

"Harper."

"Justin."

We stared at each other. Ethan was getting closer. Fast.

Justin sighed heavily. Then he did something that shocked me, he picked me up. Actually picked me up. One second my feet were on the ground; the next I was being hauled over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

I let out an outraged scream. "PUT ME DOWN!"

"Absolutely not."

"JUSTIN!"

Students were openly recording now. Of course they were. Why wouldn’t they be? My life was apparently a public circus.

Ethan finally reached us. "What the hell are you doing?"

Justin didn’t even acknowledge him. He simply deposited me into the passenger seat before slamming the door shut.

"Harper!" Ethan pounded on the window.

I stared at him through the glass. For two years that face had been my entire world. Now all I felt was exhaustion.

Justin climbed into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life. Ethan’s expression changed, panic, actual panic.

"Harper!"

Justin shifted into drive. The SUV shot forward. In the side mirror, I watched Ethan running after us, still shouting my name, still chasing the vehicle. The sight should have made me happy. It should have felt like justice. Instead, it only made me feel tired.

Neither of us spoke for the first few minutes. The silence stretched, heavy and awkward. By the time Justin pulled into a quiet overlook near the lake outside campus, I was practically vibrating with anger.

The moment he killed the engine, I rounded on him. "What the hell was that?"

Justin leaned back against his seat. "What part?"

I stared at him. Was he serious?

"What part?" I repeated. "Are you insane?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You’ll have to be more specific."

"You kissed me!"

The words echoed through the vehicle. Justin blinked, then blinked again, as if he genuinely couldn’t understand why I was upset.

"You kissed me!" I repeated. "In front of the entire hockey team!"

His expression remained annoyingly calm. "It was a very small kiss."

My mouth fell open. "A very small kiss?"

"Yes."

I pointed at him. "You don’t get to rate the kiss!"

"Okay."

"Stop agreeing with me!"

"Okay."

I made a strangled sound. Justin looked suspiciously amused. The realization only made me angrier.

"You ruined everything."

The smile disappeared from his face instantly. "No."

"Yes."

"No."

"YES!" I threw my hands into the air. "Ethan was my only chance of getting access to the team."

Justin let out a sharp laugh, entirely humorless. "Your chance?"

"Yes."

"The guy who just publicly humiliated you?"

I clenched my jaw. "He still controlled my access."

"The guy who called your family baggage?"

I looked away.

"The guy who revoked your media pass?"

"Stop."

"The guy who threw away your project?"

"Stop."

"The guy who made you cry?"

"JUST STOP!"

The words burst out before I could stop them. Silence filled the vehicle. I stared out the windshield, refusing to look at him, refusing to acknowledge the tears gathering in my eyes again. God, I was tired of crying.

After a long moment, Justin finally spoke, his voice quieter this time. "Why would you let him talk to you like that?"

I laughed bitterly. "You think I wanted that?"

"You stood there and took it."

"What was I supposed to do?" I snapped.

"Leave."

I looked at him like he’d lost his mind. "Leave?"

"Yes."

I laughed again, this time almost hysterical. "That’s easy for you to say."

"Why?"

"Because you’re Justin Hayes."

His expression tightened. "What does that mean?"

"It means you’re rich." Strike one. "You’re famous." Strike two. "You’re the hockey captain." Strike three. "You don’t have to beg people for opportunities because opportunities throw themselves at you."

For the first time since I’d met him, Justin looked genuinely speechless. I continued before he could interrupt.

"You know what happens if I don’t finish this documentary?"

He remained silent.

"I fail." The words tasted like acid. "If I fail, I don’t graduate." I took a shaky breath. "If I don’t graduate, I lose the job offer I’ve been working toward." Another breath. "My mother’s treatments are getting more expensive every month." I hated how weak my voice sounded. I hated it. "My little brother starts college next year." I swallowed hard. "My sister needs braces."

The tears finally escaped again.

"I don’t have the luxury of pride anymore."

Justin stared at me, completely still.

"I needed that documentary." I laughed bitterly. "So no, I didn’t care about my dignity."

The confession hung between us, painfully honest.

Finally, Justin spoke. "You could’ve asked me."

I stared at him, then laughed, actually laughed, because the statement was ridiculous. "Asked you?"

"Yes."

"You’ve been avoiding me for a week."

His jaw tightened. "That wasn’t avoidance."

"Oh really?"

"No."

I folded my arms. "Then what was it?"

For the first time since we’d arrived, Justin looked uncomfortable. The sight was so unusual it immediately caught my attention. He rubbed the back of his neck, looked away, then muttered something.

"What?"

He sighed heavily. "I said seeing you chase that idiot every day pissed me off."

I blinked. "What?"

"You heard me."

"No, I need clarification."

His eyes narrowed. "I don’t owe you clarification."

"Then I don’t owe you understanding."

Justin groaned, the sound full of frustration. "Every time I saw you following him around, defending him, making excuses for him, I wanted to shake some sense into you."

I stared. He continued.

"The guy treated you like garbage."

"Thanks."

"You know what I mean."

I did. Unfortunately.

"I couldn’t stand watching it."

For some reason, those words hit harder than everything else he’d said, because he sounded sincere. Not mocking. Not arrogant. Just frustrated.

The silence that followed felt different. More dangerous.

Finally, Justin sat up straighter, as if making a decision. Then he looked directly at me. "I’ll give you access."

I blinked. "What?"

"I’ll give you unrestricted access to the team." My heart stopped. "Justin—"

"You can film practices." My pulse accelerated. "Games." Faster. "Interviews." Faster. "Behind-the-scenes footage."

I stared at him, almost afraid to hope. "What do you want?"

A slow smile appeared on his face, and suddenly I knew, whatever was about to come out of his mouth was going to change everything.

Justin extended his hand toward me. "One condition."

My stomach flipped. "What condition?"

His smile widened.

"Be my fake girlfriend."