Page 103 of Faking It For Real

Afterward, I waited outside the locker room, camera full of meaningful moments I'd captured throughout the evening. When Ethan emerged, hair still damp from his shower, he wore a complicated expression—satisfaction mingled with melancholy.

"Hey you," I greeted him softly. "Congratulations, MVP."

He smiled, pulling me into a tight embrace. "Thanks for being here. For documenting all of it."

"Wouldn't have missed it." I pulled back slightly to study his face. "How are you feeling?"

He considered the question as we began walking toward the exit. "Grateful. Proud. A little sad." His fingers laced with mine. "Mostly just aware that nothing will ever be quite like this again."

Outside, the campus was quiet, most students already at weekend parties or tucked into libraries for late-night study sessions. We walked in comfortable silence, following a familiar path across the quad.

"I've been thinking about this summer," Ethan said eventually. "You in New York, me in Pittsburgh. Three hundred and seventy miles, approximately."

"A six-hour drive, depending on traffic," I finished, squeezing his hand. "We've established this."

"I know. But I've been looking at the calendar more carefully." He guided me toward a bench beneath a blooming cherry tree, delicate pink petals occasionally drifting down around us. "ThePittsburghSeals' development camp doesn't start until July. That gives us almost all of June where I could potentially be in New York."

My heart leapt. "Really? You'd come stay with me?"

"If you want me to," he replied, suddenly uncertain. "I don't want to impose on your new beginning there. If you need space to establish yourself professionally—"

"Ethan Wright, don't you dare finish that sentence," I interrupted. "Of course I want you there. Every possible day."

Relief washed over his features. "Good. That's... good."

"Very articulate for an honors student," I teased.

"What can I say? You short-circuit my vocabulary." His expression grew more serious. "I know long-distance is going to be hard. Different cities, demanding schedules. I just want you to know I'm committed to making it work."

"I know you are." I leaned my head against his shoulder. "Some miles between us don't stand a chance, remember?"

He chuckled. "Using my own lines against me?"

"I'm a photographer, not a writer—I document, I don't create."

"You create plenty," Ethan disagreed. "You create perspective. Ways of seeing things others miss."

The simple observation touched me deeply. Before I could respond, a petal drifted down, landing in Ethan's hair. I reached up to brush it away, then impulsively took a photo of him in the soft evening light, surrounded by falling cherry blossoms.

"What was that for?" he asked, blinking at the unexpected flash.

"Professional documentation," I replied solemnly. "I need evidence that the great Ethan Wright once sat under a cherry tree saying poetic things to his girlfriend."

"Ah, blackmail material. Smart."

We continued our walk across campus, discussing practical aspects of our summer plans—when he'd arrive in New York, potential weekend visits to Pittsburgh once his training began, coordinating our limited time off. The logistics were complex but manageable, a puzzle we were both determined to solve.

As we passed the art building, Ethan glanced at the illuminated windows. "How's your final project coming along?"

"Almost finished," I said. "Just a few more editing sessions. Dr. Lawrence wants to see the complete series by Friday."

"The transitions theme, right? With the campus changes?"

I nodded, pleased he remembered. "Yes. Capturing moments of transformation—seasonal shifts on campus, graduating seniors, even architectural renovations." I hesitated, suddenly shy. "The centerpiece is actually a series of you."

Ethan stopped walking, turning to face me fully. "Me?"

"Before you panic, they're good photos," I assured him quickly. "It's a triptych showing your transformation throughout the season. The first is from our earliest encounters—you're all intensity and focus, isolated in the frame despite being surrounded by teammates. The second is mid-season, showing more connection with the team but still carrying visible pressure. The third is from the championship—the moment after your winning goal, pure joy without self-consciousness."

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