Page 117 of Trick or Treat Nurse at My Feet
Ethan pulls back slightly, confusion crossing his features. "What proof?"
"The edited photos," I elaborate. "We found the guy who made them. He confessed that Cher and Ryan paid him to do it."
"You have actual proof?" Ethan looks astonished. "I didn't know that. I figured it out when Ryan attacked me in the locker room. He admitted he was involved."
"What?" The word comes out sharper than I intended, my body tensing. "Ryan attacked you? When? Where?"
Sylas steps forward from where he's been watching. "Yesterday, in the change rooms. Ryan cornered Ethan and tried to get him to take him back. When Ethan refused, things got... physical."
I don't put Ethan down, but hold him back a little to examine him properly. Now that I'm looking, I can see the faint bruises on his arms, finger marks where someone grabbed him too hard.
Turning his head to the side, I see more. Red splotcheson his neck that makeup hasn't quite covered. "He hurt you," while ice-cold rage builds in every muscle, my question is for Sylas. "Where is he now?"
"Suspended," Ethan says quickly, patting his hand on my chest like he's trying to calm me down. "Maybe expelled. Campus security detained him, and we had to go to the police station too. He's got assault charges coming." He moves in closer, leaning against me like he knows I want to keep him safe. "I'm okay, Tyler. Really."
Wrapping my arm around him again, I hug him tightly as I think about what he just said. Ryan, the ex that Ethan said had never treated him right, had physically attacked him? The thought makes my blood boil.
"I should have been there," I say quietly against his hair. "I should have protected you."
"You're here now," Ethan says simply, and the forgiveness in those words nearly undoes me.
Drew and Gavin have moved closer, their expressions darkening as they overhear Sylas's explanation.
"Ryan attacked you?" Drew asks, his typically laid-back demeanour now edged with authority, "And you know he was involved with the fake photos?"
Ethan nods. "Him and Cher. Though I only have his half-admission about that."
"We have more than that," Gavin interjects. "We found the computer guy who made the photos. Caleb." He points across the lot to where a sullen-looking guy is halfheartedly washing a blue sedan. "Our newest pledge."
The guy's blonde hair looks like it was carefully styled before he showed up at the car wash.
Now it’s a droopy mess from the humidity. He's barely moving the sponge across the hood, his dark jeans rolled up but still getting soaked, his scowl deepeningevery time water splashes onto his expensive-looking shoes.
While the other pledges are laughing and messing around, he stands apart, shoulders hunched, looking like he's calculating exactly how many community service hours this counts toward and whether it's worth the torture of being here.
Ethan follows his gesture, raising an eyebrow. "Pledge? That guy?"
"Long story," still not quite ready to let Ethan go for a long explanation. "The point is, we have proof that we were messed with. Ryan and Cher are getting their Karma, and you and I..."
Trailing off, I'm suddenly uncertain. We were kissing moments ago, but we haven't discussed what happens next. Are we back together? Does he need time?
Ethan's expression softens as he understands my unspoken question. "And you and I are together," he finishes for me. "If you still want that."
"More than anything," I admit without hesitation.
His response is another kiss, gentler this time, but no less meaningful. Around us, the fraternity brothers erupt in a chorus of catcalls and "Get a room!" that finally breaks through our bubble.
I pull back and put Ethan down, suddenly realizing what Ethan is wearing: the tiny shorts, the tied shirt, the heels. Now that my initial shock has passed, I can fully appreciate just how incredible he looks, and how many other people are enjoying it, too.
"You look..." I struggle to find an appropriate word that won't make me sound like a complete Neanderthal in front of my entire fraternity.
"Hot as fuck?" Gavin supplies helpfully, earning him a glare from me and a laugh from Ethan.
"Something like that," comes out as a mutter while I instinctively move to position myself between Ethan and the appreciative gazes of the crowd. "Gavin, give me your shirt."
"What? Why?" he protests, though his grin suggests he knows exactly why.
"Because my boyfriend is not going to stand around half-dressed in front of these animals," I say, gesturing to our brothers, who respond with exaggerated howls.
