Page 21 of Faking It For Real

She turned and walked away, leaving me to face Vanessa's reconciliation offensive alone. I watched Mia disappear into the crowd, feeling pathetic and desperate. I needed a better plan—or a more compelling offer—if I was going to survive this season with my sanity intact.

Chapter 6: Mia

I stared at my phone, unable to process the words on the screen. Maybe if I blinked enough times, the email would transform into something less catastrophic.

Due to university-wide budget constraints, we regret to inform you that your photography scholarship will be reduced by 30% for the upcoming semester...

The rest of the message blurred as tears welled in my eyes. A 30% reduction. That was nearly $4,000 I suddenly needed to find. I did the mental math again, hoping somehow the numbers would change. My part-time job at the campus bookstore barely covered groceries and utilities. The newspaper photography gig added a bit more, but nowhere near enough to make up this shortfall.

"Mia? You home?" Olivia's voice echoed from our apartment's entrance.

I couldn't answer. My throat felt like I'd swallowed sandpaper.

"There you are! I was thinking we could—" Olivia stopped mid-sentence when she saw my face. "What happened? Who died? Who do I need to kill?"

I wordlessly held up my phone, the email still displayed.

Olivia snatched it, eyes scanning quickly. "Those absolute bastards," she hissed, then slammed the phone down with such force I worried for the screen. "This calls for emergency protocol."

Before I could respond, she marched to the freezer, extracted a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, grabbed two spoons, and returned to the table.

"We're having ice cream for breakfast," she announced, prying off the lid. "And no, I will not be taking questions at this time."

Despite everything, I felt a tiny smile tug at my lips. "It's 10 AM."

"Bold of you to assume time exists during a financial crisis." She thrust a spoon into my hand. "Eat. Then we'll figure this out."

We ate in silence for a few minutes, the sugary coldness oddly comforting against the warm anxiety blooming in my chest.

"I can't ask my parents," I finally said, voicing my first coherent thought. "Dad just picked up that second shift at the warehouse, and Mom's already juggling her teaching job with weekend tutoring. They're stretched thin helping with Miguel and Sophia's school expenses as it is."

Olivia nodded sympathetically. She'd met my family during fall break last year and understood our financial situation. My parents had emigrated from Mexico before I was born, working tirelessly to give their children opportunities they never had. The thought of calling them with this news made my stomach clench.

"What about emergency aid through the university?" Olivia suggested, digging for a particularly large chocolate chunk.

"The deadline was last month." I'd already checked during my initial panic. "Most scholarship applications for next semester closed weeks ago. It's like they waited until it was too late to give us any options."

"Classic administration move," Olivia muttered darkly. "What about picking up more hours at the bookstore?"

"They're cutting hours, not adding them. Budget constraints there too." I stabbed my spoon into the slowly melting ice cream. "And I can't take on another job without sacrificing my studio time, which would tank my portfolio work, which would defeat the whole purpose of being here."

"Could you sell some prints? Your fall series was gorgeous."

"To whom? Broke college students?" I sighed. "Even if I could find buyers, I'd need to sell dozens to make a dent."

We brainstormed increasingly implausible ideas—selling a kidney ("You only need one!"), finding a wealthy campus patron ("There must be some photography-loving millionaire in town!"), or starting a lucrative photography side hustle ("Sexy graduation photos? No, wait, that sounds wrong.").

As we reached the bottom of the ice cream container, a memory from the Halloween party flickered in my mind. Ethan's desperate face as he proposed a fake dating scheme. His obvious panic when Vanessa approached. The way he'd said:"I'll give you exclusive access to the team. It would be mutually beneficial for both of us."

"What if..." I began slowly, then stopped. The idea was ridiculous.

"What if what?" Olivia prompted, licking her spoon. "I'm open to literally any suggestion right now, including light crime."

"What if I took Ethan up on his offer?"

Olivia's spoon clattered to the table. "Excuse me? Captain Ethan? The same guy whose head you wanted to use as a tripod a few weeks ago?ThatEthan?"

"The very same." I chewed my lower lip. "At the Halloween party, he asked me to pretend to be his girlfriend until the end of hockey season. To keep his Ex away so he could focus on impressing scouts."

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