Page 13 of Trick or Treat Nurse at My Feet
There's something about his green eyes that short-circuits my brain. I've never had this problem before. I'm the VP of Delta Psi Omega, for fucks sake. I give speeches to the whole frat regularly. Yet one nursing student has me tripping over my own tongue. Tonight has to be different, though. No more chickening out. Tonight's the night.
Chapter 3
The Devil’s in the Details and the Horror House
ETHAN
Ten minutes feels like an eternity when your heart is breaking.
I'm wandering through the carnival in a daze, barely registering the flashing lights and screaming laughter around me. Why did I even suggest ten minutes? Some childish part of me hoped Ryan would chase after me, that he'd realize what he was about to lose and fight to keep me. Isn't that what happens in movies? The desperate confession, the dramatic reunion?
But this isn't a movie. This is me, Ethan Barrett, standing alone at a carnival while the guy I've wasted over eight months on is probably already texting Brad-fucking-Thompson from Laguna Beach. Ten minutes won't change anything. It was just a number I blurted out to give myself an exit strategy, enough time to get lost in the crowd, but not so long that I'd have to stand around waiting for someone who isn't coming.
The annual University Halloween Carnival is in full swing, with every student organization running their own attraction. Sorority girls in matching witch hats sell caramelapples at one booth. The Debate Club runs a surprisingly intense dunk tank. I should be enjoying this, but I count seconds in my head while my chest aches with each breath.
A couple walks past me, fingers intertwined, matching skeleton face paint that doesn't stop them from stealing kisses. I look away, something sharp twisting in my chest.
This. This is what I want. Not stolen moments, secretive touches, or a boyfriend who wears a mask to go out with me.
Stopping at a ring toss booth run by the Women's Rugby team, watching as a girl throws ring after ring, missing each time. Her girlfriend cheers her on anyway, wrapping her arms around her waist from behind, whispering something that makes them both laugh. They don't care who sees them. They're just… happy.
When was the last time I was happy with Ryan?
My phone buzzes with a text.
Sylas
Status update?
I stare at the screen, unable to type the truth. Unable to admit that he was right. I slide the phone back into my pocket without responding.
It's been fifteen minutes, not ten, when I finally make my way to the Ferris wheel. Ryan is there, hands in his pockets, and the devil mask is firmly in place. He straightens when he spots me, and his body language is defensive.
"Thought you weren't coming back," he says as I walk up.
"I said I would." Unlike some people, I keep my promises.
An awkward silence stretches between us, filledwith carnival music and distant screams from the haunted house that one of the frats is running at the edge of the field.
"Look," he finally says, "maybe this was a bad idea. We could just go back to my place instead?"
Of course. Back to his place, where no one can see us, and I can be a secret again.
"I thought we were going to enjoy the carnival together," I say, unable to keep the edge from my voice.
He shifts his weight, looking around. "It's crowded. And loud."
"That's the point of a carnival."
Another silence. We're reaching a breaking point, but I'm not sure what to say.
"What about that?" Ryan suddenly suggests, pointing to a tent across the path from us. THE CHAMBER OF HORRORS, the sign proclaims in dripping red letters. A banner beneath it reads: "Presented by Delta Psi Omega Fraternity."
Below, I notice smaller text: "SMALL GROUPS ONLY - TIMED ENTRY EVERY 5 MINUTES" and "Experience true terror..."
"It's dark in there," he continues. "We could... You know, have some privacy. No one else will be around for at least five minutes."
The haunted house, where we can be together but not be seen together, is the perfect metaphor for our relationship.
