Page 54 of Trick or Treat Nurse at My Feet
"A date where you get to see him wet and shirtless," Sylas points out with a grin. "There are worse ways to spend a Saturday."
Laughter bubbles up, easing the tension from my shoulders. "True."
"And hey," Sylas adds, "at least he's being upfront. At least he's not hiding you or pretending you're just friends when his brothers are around. That's already a huge step up from the Twat-waffle."
"We agreed to stop calling Ryan that." My lips betray me by curving upward anyway.
"Fine. How about that's a huge step up from Testicular Torsion in Human Form." Sylas rolls his eyes. "Better?"
"Much," My voice is so dry.
His expression softens. "For what it's worth, I think youshould give this a chance. Not because Tyler is some perfect dream guy, though the man is sculpted like a Greek god, but because you deserve someone proud to be with you. And so far, Tyler seems to be that guy."
His words hit me right in the chest. "You think?"
"I do." Sylas nods. "But if he hurts you, I'll still key his car."
"He doesn't have a car. He rides a motorcycle."
"Then I'll knock it over," Sylas declares. "It'll be very dramatic."
Laughing, I feel lighter than I have in days. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."
"Indeed," Sylas agrees solemnly. "Now, more importantly, what will you wear to this car wash? Because if you're going to be surrounded by wet frat boys in white t-shirts, you need to bring your A-game."
As Sylas starts digging through my closet, critiquing everything I own, I let myself consider the possibility that this thing with Tyler could work. Maybe it's not just a fleeting experiment for him. Perhaps he really does like me.
And maybe, just maybe, I can let myself like him back without waiting for everything to fall apart.
Chapter 13
When the Garbage Refuses to Take Itself Out
ETHAN
Afeeling of being watched follows me all week.
It starts Monday morning as I walk to my 8 a.m. clinical prep class. A prickling sensation on the back of my neck makes me turn, scanning the thin crowd of early risers trudging across the quad. I don't see anyone, but the unease lingers like a shadow.
My phone buzzes with a text while I wait for class to start.
Ryan
We need to talk. For real this time
As I stare at the screen, my stomach knots. After a moment's hesitation, I type out a response.
No, we don't. Please stop contacting me.
Silencing my phone, I shove it in my bag. By the end of class, there are three more messages, which I delete without reading.
"You should block him," Sylas says when I show him the texts over lunch. "He's not going to stop otherwise."
"It seems so... final," I'm barely poking at my salad at this point.
Sylas gives me a look. "That's the point, Ethan. It is final. You guys are done."
I know he's right, but something holds me back. Maybe it's the time we spent together, or perhaps it's just that I've never had to block anyone before.
