Page 23 of Trick or Treat Nurse at My Feet
"My friend Jessica says, and I quote, 'HELL YES!!'" he announces, showing us the screen with multiple exclamation points and emojis. She's bringing Raj and Leila, too."
"Perfect," Cameron says, straightening his shirt as if that could erase his spectacular wipeout. "At least they missed my graceful entrance." With a scowl at his friends, he says, "Don't any of you assholes tell them!"
"Don't worry," Ethan tells him with a mischievous smile. "Nurses are good at keeping embarrassinginjuries confidential."
As everyone laughs again, I catch Ethan's eye across the group. His smile shifts when our gazes lock, softer, more private, like we're sharing something just between us.
My stomach does that silly flip it's been doing all night, and I can't help but wonder if he feels it too. That moment of 'oh, there you are' recognition that makes no logical sense but feels right. He looks away first, drawn back into conversation with Cameron, but I still feel warm inside.
Grabbing two fresh drinks from the makeshift bar and make my way toward them. Cameron dramatically reenacts his fall, much to the amusement of a small crowd that's gathered.
"So then I was like—oh, hey VP!" Cameron interrupts himself as I approach. "Tell Nurse Hottie here that Grey's Anatomy is total bullshit."
Ethan rolls his eyes, accepting the drink I offer him with a grateful smile. "I never said it wasn't bullshit. I said the thoracotomy scene in season nine was actually decent."
"You work in a hospital, right?" I ask, seizing the opportunity to learn more about him. "Like, for real, not just for class?"
Smooth, Tyler. Real smooth. Ask him something he literally just told you five minutes ago. Maybe next you can ask if he's in nursing or if water is wet. Christ, is this what my brain does when faced with glitter and green eyes? Complete functional collapse?
The nervous tickle in my throat demands a quickahemto clear. "Sorry, we already talked about that on the walk over, didn't we? My conversational skills apparently took a nosedive somewhere between the doorway and here."
"For now, I volunteer at University General," he explains, his face lighting up as though he doesn't mindtelling me twice. "But yeah, I'm hoping to get hired in the ER after graduation. I love the unpredictability of it."
"That must be intense," I say, genuinely impressed. "Worst thing I've dealt with was when Gavin dislocated his shoulder trying to do a backflip off the roof into the pool."
Ethan winces. "Please tell me someone reduced it properly. No, wait. Let me guess: Someone found a video" how to, " and you guys tried to fix it yourselves."
"Wow, good guess. If by 'reduced it properly' you mean Drew YouTube'd it while I held Gavin down and Cameron pulled... then yes, very proper." I grin at the memory. "He screamed so loud that campus security showed up."
"That's actually more competent than some of what I've seen people try," he laughs. "The bigger they are, the more they think they're invincible. You wouldn't believe how many would-be daredevils I've seen come through those doors."
He sips his drink, his shoulder brushing against mine as someone squeezes past us. "You guys do take care of each other, huh?"
"Brotherhood isn't just a recruitment slogan," I say with a shrug. "We're family. Dysfunctional sometimes, but always there."
Something softens in his expression. "That's... really nice, actually."
The music changes to something with a heavier beat, and several guys whoop in approval.
"Dance with me?" The words leave my mouth before I can overthink them.
Surprise flashes across his face, followed quickly by hesitation. "I'm not really much of a dancer."
"That makes two of us," I admit. "But I'm willing to embarrass myself if you are."
He considers this for a moment, then sets his cup down with newfound determination. "You know what? Sure. Why the hell not?"
Leading him toward the area where furniture has been pushed aside to create a dance floor. As we start to move to the music, awkwardly at first, I notice how he keeps a careful distance between us, even with people packed in all around us.
"Your friends are surprisingly cool," he says over the music, glancing around at the party. "I didn't expect?—"
"What, you thought we'd all be homophobic jerks?" I tease, slowly moving closer.
"Let's just say my expectations for frat guys weren't exactly high," he admits with a laugh. "You're kind of ruining my carefully constructed stereotypes."
"Happy to disappoint," I say simply. As the song shifts to something slower, I take a chance and place my hands lightly on his waist. "This okay?"
His eyes meet mine, searching for something. Whatever he finds makes him step closer, his arms tentatively resting on my shoulders. "Yeah," he says quietly. "This is okay."
