We spend the next half hour wandering the event. Kids run up asking Callum to sign plastic sticks or mini jerseys. Parents thank him for helping with the local youth program. Every time someone approaches, he keeps me close, introducing me. “This is Rose”, without hesitation or awkwardness. And the reactions? They’re warm and genuine. Nothing like the online version of strangers forming opinions from curated toxicity.
Being here, seeing this, I start to understand his world more clearly. The online noise is just that; noise. But this is real.
At one point, one of his teammates skates over, stopping near the barrier. “Callum! You bringing her to the players’ skate-off later?”
Callum grins. “If she wants to see me show you all up? Absolutely.”
His teammate laughs. “Good luck with that.”
Callum leans in, whispering near my ear, “He’s lying. I’m winning.”
He makes me laugh more in one hour than I’ve laughed all week. It’s almost enough to make me forget why I was ever scared of being attached to him publicly.
When things settle, and the buzz around us thins, Callum turns to me fully, expression softening into something serious. “You doing okay?” he asks.
“I think so.” I nod slowly. “It feels different here. Safer.”
“That’s the point.” He strokes his thumb along my cheek. “My world isn’t Talia. Or trolls. Or gossip. It’s this. It’s community. It’s support. It’s the people who know me, not the people who think they do.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat.
“And I want you in it,” he adds quietly. “I want you beside me. Everywhere. Not just when you get asked to take photos of the team.”
Something in my chest warms until my eyes sting.
Before I can respond, Laura returns, phone in hand. “We’re posting the first photo in a few minutes,” she says. “If that still works for both of you?”
“Yeah,” Callum says immediately. “It works.”
Laura nods and slips away.
I look up at him, heart pounding. “You’re sure about this?”
“I’ve never been surer about anything in my life.” He cups my cheek. “People will talk. That won’t stop. But they’ll talk anyway,whether you’re hidden or next to me. I’d rather they talk while you’re in my arms.”
Warmth blooms in my chest.
“And I want you to be able to walk into uni tomorrow with your head high,” he continues. “With everyone knowing that I chose you. That I’m with you. You’re not a rebound. You’re not whatever Talia’s trying to paint you as.” His voice drops to a low, protective rumble. “You’re mine.”
My heart stutters so hard I feel dizzy.
“Look at me.” His forehead touches mine. “I love being with you. I want everyone to see what I see when I look at you. And I’m done letting fear decide how we move.”
Emotion swells so intensely I have to cling to his jacket just to stay upright. “I want that too,” I whisper. “I want you.”
His smile is soft but victorious. “Good.”
He kisses me then with enough certainty to root me in place. The rink noise fades. Everything narrows to the warmth of his hands cupping my jaw and the soft press of his lips on mine.
When he pulls back, he keeps his lips ghosting over mine. “They’re posting it now.”
I swallow, my heart is lodged in my throat. “What picture?”
“The one where I kissed your cheek earlier.”
My cheeks warm. “That one?”
“Yeah.” His smile widens. “Because it looked natural. And it looked like us.”
