Chapter 4: Terms and Conditions
Haper’s POV
I stared at Justin for several seconds before a laugh escaped me. Not because anything he had said was funny. Because it was insane, completely and utterly insane.
"You’re joking."
The corner of his mouth didn’t move. "I’m not."
Another laugh slipped out, this one sharper than the first. "Please don’t joke about this, Justin. This is my future we’re talking about."
His expression remained frustratingly serious. "I know exactly what we’re talking about."
"No, I don’t think you do."
"Then let me explain it again." He leaned back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest. "I need a clean image before the draft. The scouts are watching. Sponsors are watching. Certain people in my family are watching. You need access to the team. I can give you that. You can give me what I need. It’s a simple trade."
I stared at him like he’d lost his mind. "A simple trade?"
"Yes."
"You want me to become the girlfriend of the most notorious playboy on campus."
His eyebrow rose. "Notorious playboy? That’s a little dramatic."
"It’s accurate."
A grin threatened to form on his face. I pointed at him before he could enjoy himself. "No. Absolutely not. My reputation is already hanging by a thread. Dating you would make it worse."
"You care about reputation?"
The question annoyed me. "Of course I care."
"You just got publicly humiliated by your ex."
I glared at him. "You are not helping."
"Good. Because I wasn’t trying to."
I groaned and rubbed my forehead. Everything about this conversation felt ridiculous. A few hours ago, I had walked into the hockey facilities hoping to convince Ethan to let me continue filming my documentary. Now I was sitting in Justin Hayes’ car discussing a fake relationship. What kind of cursed day was this?
"You still don’t trust me."
I looked up. "No."
"Fair."
The answer caught me off guard. Most people would’ve argued. Justin simply nodded. "Then we’ll sign a contract."
I blinked. "A contract?"
"Every rule written down. Every expectation written down. Six months. No surprises."
For some reason, the fact that he’d already thought this through made the offer feel even more real. My stomach twisted. "Why are you doing this?"
For the first time since we’d left campus, his expression softened slightly. Not much. Just enough for me to notice.
"I already told you."
"No. You gave me the business version."
"And that’s the correct version."
"Justin."
He let out a long breath. "The scouts want stability. My family wants stability. Everybody suddenly cares about whether I look responsible." A bitter laugh escaped him. "As if falling in love with hockey wasn’t enough work already."
I frowned. "There has to be more."
"There isn’t."
I continued staring. He continued staring back. Eventually he sighed. "Fine. Maybe there is."
I waited.
"You need help."
The words were quiet, simple, honest, and somehow they affected me more than the fake dating proposal itself.
Before I could respond, a blast of cold air from the vent made me shiver. The movement didn’t escape his notice. Without saying a word, Justin reached behind his seat, grabbed a black team jacket from his duffel bag, and draped it over my shoulders. The fabric was warm, still carrying traces of his body heat. I immediately hated how comforting it felt.
"There," he said. "See? I can be a gentleman."
Despite everything, a reluctant smile tugged at my lips. "I’ll admit this is surprisingly decent behavior from you."
"Don’t sound so shocked."
"I am shocked."
That earned a genuine laugh. For a moment, the tension eased. Just a little. Then reality returned. The documentary. My mother. The bills. My future. Everything waiting for me the second I stepped out of this car.
I pulled the jacket tighter around myself and looked out the windshield. "If I agreed to something this insane, it would only be for six months."
"Okay."
The immediate answer surprised me. "You didn’t even think about it."
"I already have."
The certainty in his voice made my pulse do something strange. I ignored it. "I need time."
His jaw tightened. Not in anger. Disappointment, as though he’d expected that answer and hated it anyway.
"How much time?"
"I don’t know."
Silence settled between us. Eventually I reached for the door handle. "Please drive me home."
The rest of the drive passed quietly. When we finally stopped outside my apartment building, I climbed out before I could talk myself into doing something stupid. Like agreeing. Or trusting him. Or both.
I pulled the jacket off and handed it back through the open window. "Look for someone else, Justin."
His eyes stayed on mine. "I don’t want someone else."
The simple statement caught me off guard. Before I could respond, he continued. "Just think about it."
I swallowed, then stepped away from the vehicle.
The moment I shut the door, the weight of everything came crashing back down on me. The documentary. The hospital bills. The tuition payments. The looming deadline. And for the first time all day, a terrifying thought entered my head.
What if Justin Hayes really was my last chance?
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