The Captain's Backup Girlfriend

*Sierra's POV* I bought him sour patch kids. That's the part that's going to haunt me. Not the walk across the campus in the cold, not the fact that I curled my hair for the first time since February, not even the way Mia looked at me when I said I was going to surprise Jason at the hockey party like she was calculating something she didn't want to say out loud. No. It's going to be the Sour Patch Kids. His favourite, the big bag, not the small one. I stood in the convenience store for four whole minutes deciding between the big bag and the small bag like it was a personality test, and I chose the big one because tonight felt like a big bag kind of night. Tonight felt like the night I was finally going to stop overthinking and just say it. Two weeks. We'd been dating for two weeks and Jason had already said it twice. Casual both times, almost like it slipped out, like the words didn't weigh anything to him. And both times I'd smile and change the topic because something in my chest wouldn't let me match them. Mia said I was emotionally constipated. Zara said I was being rational. I said I just needed a little more time. Tonight was going to be the time. The party was already loud from the street. Music rattling the windows of the off campus house, someone's laughter cutting above everything else, the specific kind of chaos that only happens when a hockey team has nothing to do the next morning. Jason had invited me three days ago. I'd said no. Parties weren't really my thing, the noise, the crowd, the way everyone seemed to be performing some version of themselves. But then I'd been lying awake at two a.m thinking about his face when I kept not saying it back. And I'd thought why not surprise him and just say it. So here I was. Sour patch kids in hand. Lipgloss on. Ready. I should have stayed home. The door wasn't even properly closed. I pushed it open and the heat of the party hit me immediately. I didn't know most of the faces. Hockey players, their friends, people who orbited this world that Jason lived and I had never quite belonged to. I texted him. Hey, I'm here. Surprise. With a little star emoji because I thought it was cute. He didn't reply. I moved through the crowd looking for him, holding the sour patch kids against my chest like some kind of pathetic shield. Someone offered me a drink and I took it just to have something to do with my hands. The music was too loud to think properly. I checked my phone again. Nothing. Mia had told me, and I remember this very clearly now. “Sierra, people who invite you somewhere and then don't show up at the door are not people who deserve the big bag.” I had told her she was being dramatic. I found him near the back of the room. I almost didn't recognise the situation at first. My brain did that thing where it looks at something wrong and tries to correct it, tries to find the interpretation that makes sense, the angle that explains it away. Maybe that's his cousin. Maybe she's upset and he's comforting her, maybe… He was kissing her. Not quickly. Not accidentally. Not the way you kiss someone by mistake and immediately pull back with your hands up. He had one hand on her waist and he was kissing her the way you kiss someone you've kissed before, the way you kiss someone you plan to kiss again. The Sour Patch Kids hit the floor. I don't remember deciding to move. I don't remember the specific moment when the shock finished and something else took over. Something loud and white hot that didn't have a name yet. I just remember the cup in my hand, and Jason's back, and the very clear thought. “Throw it.” So I did. My aim, as it turns out,is terrible. The problem with throwing a drink at someone in a crowded room is that the crowd is right there. The cup left my hand smoothly. I felt good about it for approximately half a second and then it sailed wide, missed Jason entirely, and hit the person standing three feet to his left with a sound that was, objectively, quite impressive. The music didn't stop. But the people nearest to us did. I turned to look at who I'd hit and found , because apparently tonight had said it wasn't done with me. The hockey captain standing there with a punch dripping down the side of his face, soaking into the collar of what was probably a very expensive shirt. I knew who he was. Everyone knew who Ethan Hayes was. You couldn't exist on this campus for longer than a week without learning his name, face , his game statistics apparently, the way he moved through a room like the room had been waiting for him. He was in two of my lectures and I had successfully avoided making eye contact with him for an entire semester on the basis that people like Ethan Hayes existed in a different atmosphere than people like me , and interactions between our two atmospheres never ended well for the person who bought Sour Patch Kids on a Friday night. He was looking directly at me. Punch dripped off his jaw. Every person within a ten foot radius had gone completely still. I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. I closed it again. Ethan Hayes reached up slowly and wiped a streak of red punch from his cheekbone with the back of his hand. He looked down at it. Then he looked back up at me with an expression I couldn't read at all. Not angry, not embarrassed, not performing for the crowd the way I expected. Just watching me. Calm. Like he had all the time in the world and he had decided to spend some of it on my specific crisis. Behind him, Jason had finally noticed. “Sierra…” “Dont.” My voice came out steadier than I felt. I was grateful for that, at least. “Dont say my name right now.” The girl next to Jason had stepped back. Smart. I didn't look at her. I couldn't look at her or something behind my ribs was going to c***k open in front of all these people and I refused to give this party that. I looked at Ethan Hayes instead because he was the only neutral object in my immediate environment. He was still watching me. Still unreadable. Still dripping. Then , and I will think about this later , much later , when I'm calmer. The corner of his mouth twitched. Not a smile exactly. Something quieter than that. Like he'd just noticed something interesting and filed it away. “Nice throw,” he said. I picked up the Sour Patch Kids off the floor, turned around , and walked out. The cold air outside hit me like a hand against my face. I stood on the pavement and breathed. The music thumped through the walls behind me. My phone was buzzing , Jason probably or Mia who had some kind of supernatural sense for when my life was falling apart. I looked down at the big bag of Sour Patch Kids in my hand. I should have got the small one.