Page 89 of Trick or Treat Nurse at My Feet
"Do you?" Gavin asks carefully. "Love him?"
I stare at my beer can, turning it around in my hands. "I don't know. Maybe? It's too soon, right?"
"Time is arbitrary," James says with a shrug. "Some people know in a week. Some take years."
"It's not about the calendar," Cameron agrees. "It's about how you feel when you're with him, when you're not with him, when you think about the future."
Thinking about this, I try to make sense of all the mixed feelings I get whenever Ethan's around. "When I'm with him, I feel... right. Like everything makes sense. And when we're apart, especially now, it's like something's missing." I take another drink. "Is that love? Or just infatuation?"
"Does it matter what you call it?" Drew asks. "The point is, you care about him, and he doesn't seem to know how much."
"I've told him I care about him."
"But have you told him you can't stop thinking about him?" Ian suggests. "That you feel empty when he's not around? That you want to build a future that includes him?"
"Whoa, slow down," A nervous laugh escapes. "We've only been dating for a little while."
"Yeah, but if you're sure this isn't just some phase," Marcos says, "then he needs to know that."
"I think you should write him a poem," Ian declares. "Women love that shit."
"He's not a woman," slips out quickly.
Ian waves dismissively. "Everyone loves poems. It's romantic as fuck."
"No poems," Cam tells him. "Based on the creative writing class we took together freshman year, your poetry would scare him off forgood."
"Hey, Dr. Zimmer said I had 'bold imagery,'" Ian protests.
"She was being nice about your explicit descriptions of?—"
"Okay!" Drew interrupts. "No poems. But maybe a gesture? Something to show him you're serious."
The suggestions start flying:
"Take him to a fancy restaurant."
"Give him a key to your room."
"Tell his ex-boyfriend to fuck off."
"Get matching tattoos."
"Write a song."
"Build him something with your engineering skills."
Each suggestion gets progressively more out there, and I crack up, which beats the hell out of the doom spiral I've been in all day. These guys are complete idiots, but they're my idiots, and knowing they've got my back makes the whole situation feel less terrifying.
"Wait, wait," Gavin says suddenly, holding up his hand. "We're thinking about this all wrong. We don't know what will work for Ethan because none of us knows him well." He pulls out his phone. "But I know who does."
"Who?"
"His best friend. The scary one who looks at us like we're going to roofie his drink." Gavin scrolls through his contacts. "I got his number at the carwash last month."
"You want to call Sylas?" Disbelief colors every word. "He hates frat guys. And me in particular, I'm pretty sure."
"He doesn't hate you," Gavin argues. "He's just protective of Ethan." Before I can stop him, he hits call and puts the phone on speaker.
