Page 102 of Faking It For Real

"That's... manipulative," Ethan observed.

"That's media training," I corrected. "And trust me, you'll need it. Reporters will try to create stories where there aren't any, especially in a hockey town like Pittsburgh. Better to be prepared."

Chapter 24: Mia

"I still can't believe you two are actually dating now," Dylan said, reaching across the table to steal one of my fries. "Like, genuinely, no-contract-involved dating."

We were at Midnight Munchies Diner for what had somehow become a weekly double date with Dylan and Olivia. Their own reluctant attraction had finally blossomed into something neither could deny, though they still bickered constantly.

"What's so unbelievable about it?" Ethan asked, sliding his arm around my shoulders.

"Uh, everything?" Dylan gestured dramatically with a ketchup-laden fry. "You went from 'That photographer nearly killed me and ruined my career' to 'I love her more than hockey' in like, five months."

"I never said I love her more than hockey," Ethan protested with a grin.

I elbowed him in the ribs. "Thanks a lot."

"I'm kidding! Obviously I love you more than hockey." He pressed a kiss to my temple. "Hockey never made me breakfast."

"Neither does Mia," Olivia pointed out. "She burns toast. I've seen it happen."

"Et tu, Olivia?" I grabbed my chest in mock betrayal. "My own best friend."

"I'm just providing journalistic accuracy," she replied primly before turning to Dylan. "And you've got no room to talk about unlikely romances. You spent our entire first date arguing with me about athletic privilege in academia."

"Because you wrote that ridiculous article implying athletes get free passes in classes!" Dylan countered, immediately heated. "Some of us work twice as hard to maintain our GPAs while also committing twenty hours a week to sports."

"Here we go again," Ethan muttered to me as our friends launched into their familiar debate.

I leaned my head against his shoulder, watching Dylan and Olivia face off across the table. Despite their argumentative dynamic, there was unmistakable fondness underneath the barbs. Dylan's eyes never left Olivia's face as she passionately defended her position, and though he disagreed with every point, there was clear admiration in his expression.

"They're ridiculous," I whispered to Ethan. "How long before they realize they're perfect for each other?"

"Took us fake dating and a championship game," Ethan replied quietly.

Our quiet side conversation was interrupted by Olivia snapping her fingers between us. "Hello? Earth to lovebirds. We were asking if you're coming to the senior send-off party next weekend."

"Wouldn't miss it," Ethan confirmed. "It's mandatory for senior team members anyway."

"And you?" Olivia turned to me. "Or are you too busy with your fancySports Illustrationspreparation?"

"I'll be there," I promised. "Someone has to document Dylan's inevitable karaoke meltdown."

"That was ONE TIME," Dylan protested vehemently. "And in my defense, nobody should be expected to know all the words to any song when they're that drunk."

"And yet you still insisted on performing it," Ethan reminded him. "Including the operatic section."

As Dylan launched into a passionate defense of his musical choices, I felt a wave of contentment wash over me. These moments—silly, ordinary, filled with laughter and friendship—had become precious as graduation loomed closer, marking the inevitable transitions awaiting us all.

Spring settled over campus, transforming the landscape with blooming cherry trees and students sprawled across the quad's green lawns. With only weeks until graduation, a bittersweet undercurrent ran beneath the semester's final activities.

Ethan's senior game arrived—the last home game for graduating players. Though not officially a championship, it carried emotional significance for the seniors and their families. I arrived early, claiming my usual spot on the press platform, camera ready.

The pre-game ceremony honored each graduating senior, highlighting their contributions to the program. When Ethan skated to center ice, spotlight following his movement, my chest swelled with pride. Coach Alvarez presented him with a framed jersey while listing his accomplishments: team captain for two consecutive years, championship-winning goal, school record for assists in a single season, and academic honors.

Ethan accepted the acknowledgment with characteristic humility, but I captured the emotion in his eyes as he shook Coach's hand—pride, gratitude, and a hint of the bittersweet recognition that this chapter was closing.

The game itself was more celebration than competition, with coaches ensuring all seniors had significant ice time. Ethan played beautifully, setting up two goals and scoring one himself. When he was named MVP, the crowd's roar was deafening.

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