Page 101 of Faking It For Real

"Hardly," he snorted. "But still, it's a factor. And then there's the physical toll of the sport. I'll have injuries, bad moods after losses, early mornings, late nights."

I studied him, realizing what he was doing. "You're trying to scare me off."

He stilled. "What? No, I'm being realistic."

"You're listing every possible difficulty as if you're giving me an out," I observed. "Like you're saying, 'Here's your chance to run before it gets complicated.'"

Ethan was quiet for a long moment, then sighed. "Maybe I am. Not because I want you to run, but because I want you to stay with complete awareness of what you're signing up for. No illusions."

"Ethan." I sat up, facing him fully. "I've watched you play hockey for months now. I've photographed the bruises, the exhaustion, the pressure. I've seen you at your lowest, most stressed moments. And I'm still here."

"You are," he acknowledged softly.

"So tell me what you're really worried about."

He looked away, vulnerability crossing his features. "That you'll resent it. The distance, the schedules, the limitations it puts on your life and career. That's what happened with Vanessa. She loved the idea of dating a hockey player until it actually impacted her life. Then it became something she tolerated, then resented, then couldn't stand."

I reached for his hand, lacing our fingers together. "I'm not Vanessa."

"I know that."

"And I'm not tolerating your career. I'm building my own alongside it." I squeezed his hand. "Will it be hard? Absolutely. Will there be times I hate the distance? Definitely. But this isn't about tolerating your dream while sacrificing mine. It's about both of us pursuing what we love and figuring out how to love each other in the midst of it."

Ethan's expression shifted, relief washing over his features. "When did you get so wise?"

"I've always been wise. You were just too busy yelling at me for stepping on your ice to notice."

He laughed, pulling me back down beside him. "For the record, I'm still right about that. You could have killed us both."

"Drama queen," I muttered against his chest, but my tone held nothing but affection.

We spent the rest of the evening creating a more tangible plan—comparing calendars, identifying potential visit weekends, researching the best midpoint cities for meeting up during busy periods. It wasn't perfect, and there would undoubtedly be challenges we couldn't yet foresee, but it was a framework, a commitment to making space for each other within our individual journeys.

As final exams approached, we established a study routine that balanced our different needs. Ethan, I discovered, was surprisingly disciplined in his academics despite his athletic commitments. We claimed a corner table at the quietest campus coffee shop, spreading our materials across the scarred wooden surface.

"The business economics section of this final is destroying me," I groaned, shoving my notes away in frustration. "Why did I think a business minor was a good idea?"

"Because you wisely recognized that understanding the financial side of the industry would make you more marketable," Ethan replied without looking up from his own textbook. "Here, let me see."

I pushed my notes toward him skeptically. "Since when are you an expert in business economics?"

"Since I had to maintain a 3.5 GPA to keep my scholarship while also playing hockey," he replied, scanning my notes. "This stuff actually comes pretty naturally to me. Numbers make sense—they're concrete, predictable."

"Unlike photography, which is all subjective interpretation and artistic vision?" I teased.

"Exactly." He tapped a section of my notes. "Your confusion is here. You're mixing up fixed and variable costs in your example. Fixed costs don't change based on production levels—rent, insurance, base salaries. Variable costs do—materials, hourly wages, utilities."

I stared at him. "That... actually makes perfect sense the way you explained it."

"Don't sound so surprised," he laughed.

"Sorry, I just—" I shrugged. "I figured you were more of a physical learner than an academic one."

"I contain multitudes," he said solemnly, then grinned. "Actually, I just had an amazing economics teacher in high school who related everything to hockey team management. It stuck."

We spent the next hour with Ethan patiently explaining concepts I'd been struggling with for weeks, using simple examples that clarified everything. In return, I helped him prepare for the media portion of his professional development course, using Olivia's journalism insights to coach him on handling difficult interview questions.

"The key is to acknowledge the question without necessarily answering exactly what they've asked," I explained. "Like if someone asks, 'Do you think your teammate's penalty cost you the game?' you don't say yes or no. You pivot to, 'Every game has multiple turning points, and we win and lose as a team.'"

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