Page 6 of Trick or Treat Nurse at My Feet
"You have no idea what I'm thinking," Sylas interrupts, crossing his arms. "But I can tell you're about to ignore every red flag we just discussed because he's throwing you the tiniest crumb of attention."
"It's not a crumb! It's progress, Sy." I can't keep the excitement from my voice. "He's never asked me to go anywhere public before."
"It's Halloween," Sylas says flatly. "Everyone's in costume."
"So?"
"So it's the perfect cover, isn't it? He can be seen with you without actually being seen with you."
My shoulders droop a little but I quickly rally. "Or maybe he's taking a step. You know, baby steps."
Sylas sighs deeply. "Ethan, honey?—"
"No, listen." I grab his hands, squeezing them tightly. "What if this is it? What if he's finally ready to stop hiding? He knows how much this means to me."
Sylas looks at me, his tough act crumbling as his expression softens. "Okay. Let's say, hypothetically, that Mr. Closet Case is having a revelation. What are you going to wear to this momentous occasion?"
Relief floods through me. Sylas isn't convinced, but at least he's not fighting me on this. "I have no idea. Help me?"
"As if I'd let you costume yourself. You would probably throw on some scrubs and call it a costume." Knowing he's right, I blush as he drops my hands and turns to my closet with a new purpose. "We need to make you look so fucking hot that every queer on campus will be jealous of our mystery man."
I grin, excitement buzzing through my veins. "You think it might be real? That he's ready to go public?"
Sylas pauses with a navy button-up in his hand. When he turns, his expression is gentle but serious. "I think you need to be prepared either way, babe. But..." he sighs, "if this is what you need to do, then let's make sure you look devastatingly fuckable while doing it."
Launching myself at him, I wrap him in a tight hug. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," he mutters, hugging me back. "I'm still coming up with a contingency plan if this goes sideways."
"It won't," I insist against his shoulder, ignoring the tiny voice of doubt in the back of my mind. "This time, it's different."
Sylas pulls back, his eyes searching mine. "For your sake, I hope so." Then, his face shifts into a mischievous grin. "Now strip. We have work to do."
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I groan when I see the caller ID.
"We should feel so blessed; he's calling twice in one night?" Sylas's sarcasm drips heavily off his tongue.
"Nope, my mother." I take a deep breath before answering. "Hi, Mom."
"Ethan," my mother's voice is tinny and distant. "I was just checking in. Your father and I were talking about Thanksgiving plans."
Sylas gives me a sympathetic look as he continues rifling through my closet.
"That's still a month away, Mom."
"Well, you know how busy everyone gets. Your sister's bringing the kids this year."
I roll my eyes at Sylas, who mimes hanging himself with an imaginary tie.
"I have clinicals that week," I lie. "Probably can't make it."
"Oh," she sounds vaguely disappointed, but not enough to argue. "Still focused on that nursing thing, then?"
"It's not a 'thing,' Mom. It's my career."
"Of course, dear. Your father just wondered if you'd reconsidered medical school."
Sylas mouths "bitch" and I struggle not to laugh.
