Kissed by My Ex’s Hockey Rival

“Buttercream!” I called from the counter, then immediately glanced down at my phone. They had promised it would be ready by six. Six-fifteen. I checked the time again. 6:17 p.m. My fingers tightened around the strap of the fancy paper bag hanging from my wrist. Inside was the cardigan I'd spent three weeks knitting, one row at a time, between lectures, cafeteria shifts, and the few stolen minutes I had before falling asleep. Ethan Callahan's birthday present. I smiled to myself. Buttercream was his favorite. Or, at least, that was what he'd told me three months ago when we'd first started dating. Three months. I could still remember the first time he'd looked at me for longer than a second. It had happened under the old oak tree behind the humanities building, where the branches stretched so low that they almost brushed the roof. It wasn't particularly romantic. There were cigarette butts near the roots and someone had abandoned an empty coffee cup on the grass. But I thought it was beautiful. Everything seemed beautiful whenever Ethan was around. He'd asked me to meet him there after class, and I'd spent the entire walk wondering why. When I found him waiting beneath the tree, wearing his Westbridge hockey jacket with his hands buried in his pockets, my heart had begun beating so hard I'd been afraid he'd hear it. I'd never had a boyfriend before Ethan. I'd never kissed anyone. I'd never even known what I was supposed to do when someone leaned close enough that I could feel their breath. So when he stepped toward me and lowered his head, I simply froze. His mouth found mine before I could decide what to do with my hands. I remember standing there with my glasses slipping slightly down my nose, my fingers curled awkwardly around the strap of my bag, wondering if I was supposed to hold him. Should I put my arms around his neck? His shoulders? Was I supposed to close my eyes? I'd closed them too late. I'd been so nervous that I'd almost laughed. Ethan hadn't. He kissed me again, harder this time, one hand resting at my waist as though he already knew exactly where it belonged. His other hand moved over me, weird and startling, and I stood under the tree feeling the heat of his body against mine and the coolness of the evening air on my cheeks. I'd never been touched like that before. Part of me had wanted to pull away. Not because I didn't like him. I liked him so much it frightened me. It was the roughness that bothered me, the way he seemed so certain while I was still trying to understand what was happening. When he finally lifted his head, I had stared at him through my crooked glasses, breathless and embarrassed. He smiled. “You're cute when you're nervous.” I'd wanted the ground to open and swallow me. Instead, I smiled. Because Ethan Callahan was my first boyfriend. My first kiss. The first boy who had ever made me feel as though maybe there was something about me worth noticing. There were things about him I didn't completely understand. Like the way he sometimes called me his personal b***h. The first time he'd said it, I'd laughed because I thought he was joking. The second time, I hadn't. He'd caught the expression on my face and pulled me closer. “That's what I call someone I love,” he'd told me. “Means you're mine.” I wanted to believe him. So I had. Three months of that. Three months of stolen glances across campus. Three months of meeting under trees, behind buildings, in quiet corners where nobody from Westbridge University would see us. Three months of me calling him because he was always too busy to call me. There was always hockey. Practice. Film sessions. Gym. Team meetings. Another game. Another excuse. And I understood. Of course I understood. Ethan was one of the best players on the Westbridge Wolves. Everyone wanted something from him. His coach wanted him on the ice. His teammates needed him. The university expected him to perform. So I became the person who waited. I called after practice. I called before bed. Sometimes he answered. Sometimes I watched the call ring until it stopped. Sometimes he'd text hours later. Sorry. Busy. And I'd tell myself it was fine. Because tonight changed everything. Tonight was his birthday. And tonight, after three months of keeping me tucked away from the rest of his world, Ethan had promised he would finally introduce me as his girlfriend. Not secretly. Not in some shadowed corner under an oak tree. Not through whispered conversations and quick meetings between classes. Tonight, I was going to his penthouse. His house. The Callahan's house. The thought still made my stomach flutter. I'd never been there. I'd never met the people he spent his weekends with. I'd never stood among his hockey friends or seen what Ethan was like when he wasn't worrying about who might see us together. This was the first time he'd invited me close to his circle. I'd been waiting for it for what felt like forever. I looked down at myself. The dress was simple. Navy blue, soft against my knees, with a modest neckline and sleeves that reached just above my elbows. Nothing about it screamed, ‘look at me.’ That had never really been my style. My glasses sat securely on my nose, and my hair was twisted into the same messy bun I'd worn almost every day for as long as I could remember. I had never been good at elaborate hairstyles. Besides, Ethan had once told me he liked my hair that way. I had believed him. Over the dress, I'd slipped on one of my knitted cardigans. The sleeves were slightly too long because I'd always made them that way. I rubbed my thumb over one of the uneven stitches, remembering how long it had taken me to make it. The other cardigan was inside the gift bag. Ethan's. I'd chosen the wool carefully, standing in the craft shop for nearly forty minutes while everyone else seemed to know exactly what they wanted. I'd settled on a deep charcoal-gray yarn because Ethan wore so much black and navy. I wanted something that would make him stand out. I'd measured the sleeves twice. Then three times. I'd unravelled nearly half of it when I realized I'd made the front too narrow. I knitted during lectures with my notebook balanced on my knees, under the cafeteria counter during quiet periods, and late at night when my eyes burned from studying. Three weeks. Three weeks of tiny loops pulled through tiny loops until the cardigan finally took shape under my hands. The front was simple, clean, masculine. I'd stitched a small silver E.C. near the inside hem. His initials. I'd run my fingers over those letters the night before and smiled for so long that my cheeks had hurt. I had wanted him to know that I'd made it just for him. That I'd thought about him through every stitch. I looked at the cake box behind the counter. White frosting. Little blue decorations around the edges. And across the top, exactly as I'd requested: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE BEST HOCKEY PLAYER AT WESTBRIDGE! I had made them change the wording twice. Not because I was picky. Because tonight had to be perfect. My stomach fluttered. Tomorrow, everyone at Westbridge would know. They'd see Ethan Callahan, the second-best hockey player on the Wolves, one of the most popular guys on campus, with me. Sienna Bennett. The nerdy girl. That was what Brielle Monroe and her friends called me when they thought I couldn't hear. The girl with the glasses. The scholarship girl. The girl who spent more time in the cafeteria than at parties. But tomorrow, none of that would matter. Tomorrow, I'd walk across campus beside Ethan, and people would have to look at me differently. I'd imagined it so many times. Brielle standing with her perfect hair and her perfect friends. The whispers following me through the halls. Someone stopping me and asking, When did you and Ethan start dating? Maybe someone would even ask me how I got him. I'd smile. I'd tell them we'd been together for three months. Three secret, wonderful months. My heart fluttered. Maybe being Ethan Callahan's girlfriend would finally give me the confidence I'd never been able to find on my own. Maybe people would stop looking through me. Maybe Brielle would finally understand that I wasn't someone she could laugh at. And maybe my father would understand, too. Coach Jack Bennett was strict enough about his players without discovering that one of them had been secretly dating his daughter for three months. But Ethan wasn't just any player. He was talented. Popular. One of the best. My father would have to see that this wasn't some childish crush. And once everyone knew, nobody could make me feel invisible anymore. Especially Brielle Monroe. I glanced at the gift bag again. I'd spent almost every dollar I'd earned over the last two months making tonight happen. The cake. The gift. Everything. My palms were damp. I wiped them against my cardigan and laughed quietly at myself. Why was I so nervous? Ethan was going to love it. He was going to love the cake. He was going to love the cardigan. And, most importantly, he was finally going to love me loudly enough for everyone to see. “Your cake is ready.” The voice from the counter pulled me out of my thoughts. I straightened immediately. “Oh!” I hurried forward. The employee handed me the box, and I took it carefully with both hands. “Thank you.” I looked down at the cake. Perfect. Every little detail was perfect. I smiled as I carried it toward the door, with my gift bag swinging lightly against my leg. Nothing could go wrong tonight. Nothing. At least, that's what I believed. Then I walked into Ethan Callahan's birthday party.