Faking it with Beck Ryder
Everyone at Frostford University worships Beck Ryder. Future NHL star. Campus celebrity. Captain of the Frostford Vipers. The golden boy who can do no wrong. Everyone except Nayla George.
Two years ago, a violent locker-room incident ended her brother's hockey career and shattered her family. While Julian spiraled into depression and their family struggled to survive, Beck's fame only grew.
To Nayla, Beck Ryder is living proof that powerful people never face consequences.
Then another assault scandal explodes.
A viral video appears to show Beck involved in a violent altercation with another student-athlete. Public outrage erupts. Sponsors flee. NHL scouts back away. Overnight, hockey's golden boy becomes Frostford's biggest liability.
Desperate to save his image, the university launches a reality show designed to rebuild Beck's reputation.
And the producers choose the one person who hates him most to play his girlfriend.
Nayla George.
Now they're trapped together in front of cameras, forced to sell a love story neither of them wants.
But as their fake relationship begins feeling dangerously real, Nayla uncovers secrets connecting Beck's newest scandal to the incident that destroyed her brother years ago.
The deeper she digs, the more she realizes someone has spent years manipulating the truth.
And the deeper she digs, the more she realizes the truth isn't a question of innocence. Someone manipulated what happened that night. Someone turned Beck Ryder into the perfect villain. And the man she's spent years hating may be carrying a different kind of guilt than she ever imagined.
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Chapter: THE INVESTIGATIONI read the message three times, then deleted it. Not because I wanted to forget it, but because I needed to think clearly. Someone was pointing me toward Beck's best friend. Someone on the inside knew something.I sat at my desk in my room, my laptop open, and typed Theo's name into the search bar.What came up was exactly what you'd expect from a college hockey player. Instagram full of party photos. Twitter posts about games and teammates. A few news articles about his performance on the ice. Nothing suspicious. Nothing that screamed guilt.But absence can be suspicious too.I dug deeper. His social media history was spotty. Posts from two years ago existed, but there were weird gaps. Months where he hadn't posted anything. Then suddenly, activity resumed like nothing had happened.My phone buzzed.A text from Victoria: Tomorrow's shoot at 8 AM. Early call. Beck will pick you up at 7:30.I didn't respond. I just kept digging.I spent the rest of the night searching every database I
Last Updated: 2026-06-09
Chapter: BEHIND THE ICEThen he walked away.The café door chimed as he left, and I watched him disappear into the afternoon sun. My hands were unable to stay steady. My chest was tight. And somewhere in the back of my mind, underneath the anger and the pain, was a small, traitorous voice whispering that something about his reaction hadn't matched the story I'd told myself for two years.Victoria's voice came through my earpiece again, satisfied and calculated."Excellent work. That's exactly the kind of raw emotion we needed."But I wasn't listening to her anymore.I was thinking about the way Beck's hands had clenched. The way his voice had cracked. The way he'd said he couldn't tell me the truth, not that he wouldn't.And I was thinking about how little I actually knew about what happened that night.How little I'd ever bothered to ask."Okay, we're rolling in three, two—"The camera light blinked red, and suddenly I was supposed to be happy.Beck sat across from me at a table in the student center, and w
Last Updated: 2026-06-09
Chapter: FACE TO FACEMarcus leaned back in his chair. "Though I have to tell you, Nayla. The public loves a good redemption arc. And they love conflict even more. You have something every other student on this campus doesn't have. You have authenticity. You have a real reason to question him. You have something to prove."I looked at the folder again. The letter.My entire future, sitting on Dean Whitmore's desk, waiting for me to make the only choice that was actually a choice at all."How long would I have to do this?" I asked quietly."Eight weeks," Victoria said. "Through the championship season. The show airs weekly."Eight weeks. Sixty days. Four hundred and eighty hours of pretending. Of being near him. Of selling a lie to millions of people.Eight weeks for everything I'd ever wanted.I reached across the desk and picked up the letter.My hands stopped shaking."I want it in writing," I said. "All of it. The money, the fellowship nomination, everything. Before I film a single second."Marcus smile
Last Updated: 2026-06-09
Chapter: THE OFFERI stared at the screen. The commercial ended. My cue to go back on air.And I realized, in that moment, that something had just shifted. Something I couldn't take back.I'd finally named the thing I wasn't supposed to say out loud. And someone had been waiting for me to do exactly that.I went to the administration building the next day. The administration building smelt like old money and floor polish.I sat in a waiting room that probably cost more than my mother made in a month, my knee bouncing against the tile floor. My phone had buzzed seventeen times since I left the radio station. Seventeen. I'd stopped counting after that.The door opened."Ms. George? They're ready for you."A woman with a clipboard and a smile that didn't reach her eyes gestured me inside. I stood, smoothing down my oversized sweater even though I knew it wouldn't help. Nothing could make me look like I belonged in this room.Dean Whitmore sat behind a desk the size of a small car. Next to him was a woman I
Last Updated: 2026-06-09
Chapter: THE GOLDEN BOY FALLS"Nayla, you're live in thirty seconds."Marcus's voice crackled through my headphones. I pulled the microphone closer, checking my levels one more time. The studio was small, basically a closet with soundproofing and a mixing board that still had sticky keys from three years of iced coffee spills, but it was mine. For the next hour, at least."Got it," I replied, clicking my pen against the desk out of habit. A nervous tic I couldn't break.The campus radio station sat in the basement of the communications building. Three in the afternoon on a Wednesday meant my show, "Real Talk with Nayla," pulled maybe two hundred listeners on a good day. Most of them were probably working out in the gym, half-listening while they ran on treadmills. But I didn't care about the numbers. I cared about the truth. And on campus, truth was becoming a luxury.The theme music swelled—lo-fi hip-hop that I'd chosen specifically because it felt honest. Unpretentious. Not like most of the polished garbage that
Last Updated: 2026-06-09
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