Page 116 of Trick or Treat Nurse at My Feet
"It doesn't matter," I say with a shrug that attempts casualness but probably fails miserably. "Even with proof that the photos are fake, why would he forgive me? I should have found a way to make him believe me from the beginning."
Drew starts to answer, but is cut off by a lot of noise at the parking lot entrance. My frat brothers have stopped washing cars and are staring at something or someone coming our way.
"What now?" Drew mutters, turning to investigate.
Following his gaze, I squint against the sun, and for a moment, I'm certain I'm hallucinating.
Walking towards our car wash is Ethan. But not the Ethan I know, with his laid-back style and conservative clothing, this Ethan looks like he's stepped right out of a music video or some crazy dream I never even knew I had.
He's wearing impossibly short denim shorts that showcase his perfectly toned legs. A white T-shirt tied at his waist exposes a strip of his stomach. His face is different, too. Is that makeup? His eyes look bigger, his cheekbones sharper, and his lips more defined. And my brain short-circuits momentarily. Are those high-heeled boots?
Behind him, like some weird backup dancers, are Sylas and a few nursing students I sort of recognize. They're all dressed for washing cars, but none of them looks anywhere near as delicious as Ethan does.
"Holy shit," Gavin breathes beside me, equally transfixed. "Is that?—"
"Ethan," His name comes out in a stutter, barely recognizable.
Everyone around us has stopped what they're doing. My frat brothers, the customers, and even people just walking by, are all staring at Ethan as he walks right through our car wash as if he owns the place. I notice a bunch of people holding up their phones to record everything.Just perfect. Looks like we're about to be internet famous again.
Ethan doesn't seem to notice or care about everyone watching. His eyes are fixed right on me like he's on a mission, his face all determined. My heart's pounding like crazy as he walks up and stops just a few feet in front of me.
"Tyler," he says, his voice carrying clearly across the suddenly silent parking lot. "I need to talk to you."
My mouth opens, but no words come out. What do you say when your maybe-ex-boyfriend shows up at your fundraiser dressed like a sexy car wash fantasy?
Ethan doesn't wait for me to find my voice. Taking a deep breath, he launches into what seems like a prepared speech.
"I was wrong," he announces loudly. "I was stupid and wrong, and I should have trusted you." He takes a step closer. "Those photos must have been fake. I know that now."
"Ethan," I try to interrupt, but he's on a roll.
"No, please let me finish. I need to say this." His eyes are begging, honest. "I should have known you'd never hurt me like that. You've been nothing but truthful with me from the start. You're the guy who held my hand right in the middle of campus without thinking twice. The guy who proudly introduced me to all your friends." He waves at my fratbrothers. "The guy who made me laugh till my sides hurt with your awful jokes."
A few of the brothers chuckle, and I feel heat rising to my face as Ethan continues, gaining momentum.
"You're the guy who listened to me talk for two hours about nursing procedures without your eyes glazing over once. The guy who sat through my favourite musical, even though you hate musicals." He takes another step closer, close enough now that I can see the shimmer on his eyelids. "The guy who always checked if I was comfortable, who never pushed, who made me feel safe and wanted and?—"
"Ethan," I try again, feeling all warm inside from what he's saying, but damn, half the campus seems to be watching now.
"—and I threw it all away because I was scared and hurt and I didn't stop to think that maybe there was an explanation," he continues, undeterred. "I didn't give you the chance you deserved, and I've been miserable every second since I walked away. And I know I embarrassed you publicly, which is why I'm humiliating myself publicly now?—"
"You're not?—"
"—because you deserve someone who will fight for you the way you fought for me, someone who believes in you even when the evidence seems damning, someone who?—"
Not able to take it anymore, I close the distance between us in two enormous strides. Reaching him, I slide one hand around his waist and the other cupping the back of his neck. His words cut off abruptly as I pull him against me and cover his mouth with mine.
For a split second, he's frozen in surprise. Then he melts against me, arms wrapping around my neck as he returns the kiss with equal heat. I lift him off his feet, his heels dig into my back when he wraps his legs around mywaist. The catcalls and whistles from the crowd fade into white noise as I lose myself in the feeling of having Ethan back in my arms, the familiar taste of him, the scent of his skin.
When we finally break apart, both breathless, Ethan gazes at me with wide, hopeful eyes.
"So you forgive me?" he asks softly.
Laughter bursts free, joy bubbling up from somewhere deep inside, impossible to contain. "You had me at 'I was wrong,'" I tell him, echoing the movie line I know he'll appreciate.
His smile is radiant. "Really?"
"Really." Pressing my forehead against his, I suddenly remember the evidence we've collected. "Who found you? Who showed you the proof that the photos were faked?"
