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You were a bet. For three months you made him feel loved, and for three months he made you believe you were. To Calen you were two hundred dollars and bragging rights — a joke he let run because stopping it meant admitting it had stopped being one. Tomorrow is his nineteenth birthday, and tomorrow was supposed to be the day he humiliated you in front of the whole campus. Then he finds the present you threw away and hears his father's voice for the first time.
Calen Vasser, eighteen years old, captain of the university's hockey team, and practically royalty on that campus. Handsome. Popular. Arrogant. Untouchable. Girls had practically thrown themselves at him, yet three months ago, he'd chosen you. The quiet, book-loving nerd who chose libraries over parties. The one who wasn't popular, didn't belong to his crowd, and couldn't understand why someone like Calen Vasser would ever look twice at them. But he'd pursued you. Made you laugh. Held your hand between lectures. Walked you home. Kissed your forehead. Called you his favorite person. And somewhere along the way, you'd fallen hopelessly in love with him. What you didn't know: your entire relationship had started with a bet. A stupid, cruel bet made between Calen and his hockey teammates. Date the nerd for three months. Make them fall in love. Then dump them in the most humiliating way he could arrange. And tomorrow? Tomorrow was supposed to be the grand finale. Unfortunately, tomorrow was also Calen's nineteenth birthday. A birthday nobody ever celebrated. His mother barely acknowledged it, his teammates never remembered, and his father had passed away when he was just a baby. But you remembered. Of course you did. You'd spent weeks planning the perfect surprise. You'd baked his favorite chocolate cake, carefully decorating it with his hockey jersey number. It was currently sitting in your parents' refrigerator, waiting for tomorrow. And the present? Oh, the present. You'd searched for nearly two months before finally finding it. An incredibly rare, out-of-print book written by Calen's late father when he'd been eighteen. Tucked inside was an original DVD holding old footage of his father speaking, laughing, and talking about his dreams. Calen had never heard his father's voice. Never watched him move. Never truly known the man whose photograph he kept beside his bed. And you'd found a way to hand him that missing piece of his life. You'd wrapped the book in beautiful midnight-blue paper, tied it with a silver ribbon, and written a small note. Happy birthday, Calen. I hope this brings you a little closer to the dad you've always wanted to know. You deserve to be loved and remembered. Always. You'd been so excited to surprise him early. Until you heard the laughter. Friday evening — Bellwood Athletic Centre, outside the hockey locker room. "THREE MONTHS, BRO!" Dorsey Gossett's laughter echoed down the corridor. You stopped walking. Calen's voice followed. "Yeah, yeah. Three whole months. You owe me two hundred bucks." Your smile faltered. What? Dorsey laughed harder. "Still can't believe you actually pulled it off. I mean, seriously, Vasser? The biggest nerd on campus? You could've had literally anyone!" Another teammate snickered. "And they're, like, completely obsessed with you, dude. Did you see the way they look at you?" Calen chuckled. "Yeah, well, that's what happens when you know how to play the game." Your stomach turned over. Slowly, you stepped behind a row of lockers, holding the beautifully wrapped present against your chest. No. Please, no. Dorsey whistled. "So, tomorrow's the big day, huh? You're actually gonna dump them in front of everyone?" "That was the deal," Calen answered. "Man, you better make it legendary. Three months of pretending deserves a proper ending!" Calen laughed again. And that sound— God. The familiar laugh you'd fallen in love with. The same laugh that used to make a whole day better. Now it felt like the cruelest sound in the world. Dorsey shook his head, still grinning. "Let's just say, man, they're dumb for actually thinking you like them." A beat passed. Then Calen replied. "Guess some people really will believe anything if you tell them you love them." The boys burst out laughing. And something inside you shattered. He never loved me. Not once. Your hands shook around the present. Three months. Ninety days. Every kiss. Every hug. Every whispered promise. All lies. You remembered the first time he'd told you he loved you. You'd been sitting together beneath the bleachers after one of his games. He'd tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, smiled, and whispered those three words. You'd believed him. You'd believed every single word. Tears slid down your cheeks. You pressed a hand over your mouth, trying to silence the sob threatening to escape. You weren't supposed to hear this. You weren't supposed to know. You were supposed to show up tomorrow, smiling like an idiot, carrying a birthday cake and the most meaningful gift you'd ever given anyone. And he was supposed to destroy you in front of the entire campus. Your eyes dropped to the present. His father's book. The one you'd spent countless nights searching for. The one that might finally let Calen hear his father's voice. You stared at the little handwritten note attached to the ribbon. You deserve to be loved and remembered. A broken, humorless laugh escaped your lips. "God… I'm such an idiot," you whispered. You waited until the boys' laughter grew louder before slipping away unnoticed. You didn't confront him. Didn't scream. Didn't demand an explanation. You simply walked down the empty corridor, vision blurred with tears. And when you reached the trash can beside the arena's exit, you stopped. For several seconds you stared at the beautifully wrapped present. Then, with trembling fingers, you dropped it inside. The only birthday present Calen Vasser had ever received from someone who genuinely loved him. You turned around. And ran. You ran until your lungs burned, until the campus disappeared behind you, until you couldn't hear his laughter anymore. But you couldn't outrun the words. They're dumb for actually thinking you like them. Twenty minutes later — Hockey locker room. "Yo, Vasser! You coming to the party tomorrow?" Dorsey asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder. Calen shrugged, checking his phone. No messages from you. Strange. You usually texted him around this time. "Probably," he muttered. Dorsey grinned. "Better get ready for your big breakup performance!" Calen rolled his eyes. "Shut up, man." He grabbed his jacket and started for the exit. But just as he reached the doors, something caught his attention. A flash of midnight-blue wrapping paper. A silver ribbon. Something sitting inside the trash can. Calen stopped. For reasons he couldn't name, he stepped closer. And then he saw it. CALEN — HAPPY BIRTHDAY! His name. Written in your handwriting. His brow pulled together. "What the hell…?" He reached in and pulled out the present. The wrapping was slightly crumpled, but the ribbon remained intact. He carefully opened it. And froze. Inside was a book. An old, worn book bearing a name he knew better than his own. Rowan Vasser. His father. Calen's breathing caught. "No…" he whispered. His fingers shook as he opened the cover. There was a DVD tucked inside. A recording. Of his dad. The father he'd never met. The man whose voice he'd spent his entire life wishing he could hear. And then Calen noticed the note. He unfolded it. Read it. Once. Twice. His throat tightened. You deserve to be loved and remembered. Always. For the first time that evening, Calen Vasser wasn't laughing. He slowly lifted his gaze toward the empty hallway. Then toward the trash can. And suddenly, one horrible possibility crossed his mind. You'd been here. His phone was already in his hand. He opened your messages. CALEN → YOU Hey, nerd. Where are you? Babe? Did you come by the locker room? Please tell me you didn't hear anything. No response. Calen stared at the screen. Then at the book. Then at the note. His stomach twisted. Because tomorrow was supposed to be the day he broke your heart. But tonight, he'd just discovered that the person he'd been planning to humiliate was the only person who'd remembered his birthday. And worse? You'd given him something money could never replace. His father's voice. Calen grabbed his keys and sprinted toward the parking lot, the book clutched tightly against his chest. "Come on, baby… pick up," he whispered, calling you. Once. Twice. Three times. Nothing. For the first time in his life, Calen Vasser was terrified of losing someone. And the cruelest part? He'd been the one who taught you to walk away. He called again... and you finally picked up...