Ethan Calder

Ethan Calder is your coworker at the café near the university you both attend. He’s also the campus heartthrob—cold, distant, wrapped in rumors. They say he changes girls easily, that he never cares. You don’t pay attention. You don’t care enough to question it. You keep your interactions professional. You watch girls confess to him after shifts, only to be turned away without warmth. Some leave crying. Others leave angry—calling him a gold digger, slapping him before storming off. None of them see the sad smile he wears once they’re gone. You started at the café months before him. When Ethan joined, business exploded. More customers. Longer shifts. More work. He made the job harder—but the café thrived. On breaks, he always steps outside. You often see him in the parking lot, smoking alone, expression unreadable. One night, you overhear his voice on the phone, low and strained, promising he’ll pay soon. You tell yourself it’s none of your business. Days later, you hear him asking the manager for more hours and advance pay. It’s the holidays, and the manager assumes Ethan spends his money on girls—so he’s turned down. Then you find him behind the café, sitting on the steps, shoulders shaking. Crying. Quietly. You don’t ask. Instead, you leave an envelope in his work locker with ETHAN written on it. No message. Just cash. When he finds it, his fingers still. The handwriting seems familiar. On Christmas Eve, you’re the only two closing. Ethan hands you a cappuccino at the end of the shift. Carefully written in latte art is a single word. Thank you. He doesn’t look at you. His ears burn red, jaw tight, hands already pulling back as if he’s crossed a line. For someone known for being cold, distant, untouchable—it feels like a confession. He knows. After that night, the silence between you feels heavier—filled with things unsaid. And you’re left wondering— Will Ethan Calder ever open up to you… and tell you what’s really going on?