Page 14 of Trick or Treat Nurse at My Feet
"Fine," I say, too tired to argue. Maybe inside, away from the crowds, we can have an actual conversation. Maybe he'll take off that stupid mask and talk to me.
We walk toward the horror house, Ryan careful to maintain a bit of space between us. Now and then, his handbrushes against mine, but only when no one else is looking our way.
When we reach the entrance, my jaw aches from clenching it so hard. The haunted house's creepy lighting and loud sound effects make me uneasy. Usually, I like haunted houses and feeling like I'm about to be ambushed, but this is different. This is me possibly breaking up with my boyfriend… exclusive hookup… I don't even know where we stand anymore.
Ryan glances nervously around, still worried that someone might recognize us.
A frat guy with DPO painted on his cheek collects tickets at the entrance. I recognize him vaguely from campus, but can't place his name. When I turn to face him, his eyes widen slightly as he takes in my glittery makeup. I'm guessing he also saw "NURSE HOTTIE" written across my scrubs.
Just what I need on top of everything else tonight. A homophobic frat dude.
"Nice costume," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice as he takes our tickets. "Small groups only. Follow the red arrows, and don't break anything. The scare actors aren't allowed to touch you... But nothing in the rules says you can't touch each other."
Glancing over and catching one of the other frat guys wiggling his eyebrows at us with a smirk, "Have fun!"
Ryan stiffens, edging away until there's enough space between us for plausible deniability. The frat guy's smile slips, replaced by a confused frown as Ryan puts that obvious distance between us. Great, another witness to my humiliation. At least this one doesn't know my name.
The zombie ticket taker misses all the undercurrents; hejust winks at me, and Ryan again shifts uncomfortably beside me, his devil mask revealing nothing.
"Delta Psi Omega guarantees it's the scariest tent at the carnival," the zombie adds with pride, stepping aside to let us enter. "Next group in five minutes."
We step inside, immediately engulfed by darkness broken only by strange, pulsing lights. The walls are lined with mirrors, some normal, others warped and distorted. In one, I'm ten feet tall and pencil-thin. In another, we're squat and wide. In all of them, Ryan is still a faceless devil.
Ryan's demeanour changes as soon as the entrance curtain closes behind us. His hand finds the small of my back, guiding me deeper into the maze. I can feel the warmth of his touch through the thin fabric of my costume, and a shiver runs down my spine.
"Alone at last," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. I glance around, suddenly self-conscious of our surroundings. The pulsing lights and distorted mirrors make it feel like we're in our own little world, isolated from the rest of the carnival. I wonder if he has something planned or is just taking advantage of the sudden privacy to try to placate me again.
Stepping away from his touch, turning to face him. In the weird lighting, with mirrors reflecting us from every angle, I finally accept what Sy has been trying to get me to admit to myself for months. This relationship is a fake, one-sided excuse for dating. Ryan might never want me to be anything more than a secret fuck-buddy.
"Take off the mask," I say, my voice steadier than I feel with all these reflections watching us.
He hesitates, shifting his weight. "What?"
"Take it off. No one can see us in here." I gesture at the mirrored walls surrounding us,creating an infinite loop of just us two. "Isn't that the point of bringing me here? Privacy?"
"It's part of the experience—" he starts, one hand moving protectively toward his face.
"Bullshit." The word echoes slightly in the narrow corridor, bouncing back at us from every angle. My reflections all wear the same hurt expression. "It was never about Halloween. You just didn't want anyone to know you were with me. The mask, the secrecy, the late-night texts... It's all so that no one connects you to the gay guy, right? So you can keep your precious reputation intact."
"That's not fair," he protests, but makes no move to remove the mask. His hands hover near it protectively, like I might try to snatch it away.
"Isn't it?" My hands wave around us. "Look at us, Ryan. Really look."
In the mirrors all around us, I see our reflections everywhere: me, all sparkly and out there, and him, just a blank face, all hidden. It hurts to see me being so open and him so hidden away. No matter which way I look, it tells the same story.
"This is us," I continue, my voice steadier than I feel. My heart pounds against my ribs, but I refuse to back down now. "Me showing up fully, and you... hiding. Always hiding."
"I'm not hiding, I'm being careful," he counters defensively. His voice rises slightly, echoing back at us from a dozen directions. "Not everyone can be out and proud with glitter on their face and 'Hottie' across their back. Some of us have more complicated lives."
The words sting, but I stand my ground. "I'm not asking you to wear rainbow flags. I'm asking you to acknowledge me as someone who matters to you."
"You do matter," he says, stepping closer, hands finding my waist. "You know you do, baby."
But only in private. Only in the dark. Only when no one else can see.
"I'm tired of being your secret.” The words are painful but necessary. "I'm tired of being something you're ashamed of."
"I'm not ashamed," he insists, fingers digging into my hips. "You're just... a lot, Ethan. With the glitter and the tight clothes and the?—"
