Chapter 5
How to Make Friends and Influence Frat Boys
ETHAN
We walk up the campus path towards their frat house when the carnival closes. The crowd thins as people peel off, heading to different parties. Tyler walks beside me, close enough that our shoulders occasionally brush, sending little electric shocks up my arm each time.
What the actual hell am I doing? Following a group of frat bros to their house after the disaster that was Ryan?
The nervous gay student part of my brain is methodically listing all the ways this could go wrong: isolation with unknown males, alcohol consumption in unfamiliar territory, decreased inhibitions in a potentially hostile environment. This could be a textbook high-risk scenario.
But something about Tyler makes the warning bells quiet down. Maybe it's how he stuck up for me against Ryan, or how he howled during our ridiculous chase. Or perhaps it's the look in his eyes when he catches me staring at his chest, interested but not predatory.
Walking slightly behind the group, I'm still trying to process everything that's happened in the last hour. Tyler slows his pace deliberately until he's beside me again.
"You okay?" he asks, his voice low and warm.
"Yeah," I say, offering a small smile while glancing over my shoulder for like the hundredth time. "Just making sure my ex doesn't decide to come back for round two."
The tall frat guy, Cameron, I think his name is, turns around, walking backward with surprising coordination. "Ex-boyfriend drama? Man, that sucks. What happened back there anyway?"
Tensing, unsure how much I want to share with a group of guys I just met. I'm used to keeping my personal life locked down tight around straight guys, especially frat guys. But before I can decide what to say, the giant blonde one, Gavin, jumps in.
"Some asshole tried to fuck around with our new friend at the haunted house," Gavin explains, his massive arm landing across my shoulders with unexpected gentleness. "Total dick move."
To my surprise, Cameron nods with what looks like genuine sympathy. "What a loser. Well, you're rolling with us now, nurse hottie. We'll show you how real men treat their dates."
"Yeah, we don't do that bullshit at DPO," adds another guy whose name I think is Taj.
"This is not a date," I clarify quickly, feeling heat rush to my face. I glance at Tyler before looking away, suddenly very interested in the sidewalk. The last thing I need is for him to think I'm assuming things.
"Whatever you want to call it," Ian laughs. "Consider yourself rescued."
I'm not used to this, being defended by a group of guys who look like they walked straight out of an Abercrombie catalogue. It's... nice. Different. I sneak another look at Tyler, who's watching me with an expression I can't quite read.
The big werewolf-lumberjack guy, Gavin, leads our group, gesturing wildly as he describes his favourite scare moments from the night.
Several other frat brothers have joined us on the walk back: the vampire who reminds me of every linebacker I've ever seen, the zombie with surprisingly articulate speech for someone covered in fake gore, and the guy in the banana costume who seems to be the group's designated comic relief.
"So, Nurse Hottie," says the vampire, Kai, stepping up beside me. "First time visiting Delta Psi Omega?"
"First time visiting any frat," I say, deciding not to count the disaster at Epsilon Beta Mu freshman year. "And it's Ethan."
"Not according to your scrubs," he grins, nodding at my costume.
My face heats. "My friend Sylas has a warped sense of humour."
"Your friend sounds awesome," says Banana Guy with genuine enthusiasm. "Do all nursing students have glitter privileges, or is that just you?"
The question is friendly, with no trace of the sneering tone I'd expected. None of these guys seems bothered by my very obvious gayness. It's... unexpected.
"Special certification required," I deadpan. "Three semesters of Advanced Sparkle Application."
They laugh, not at me, but with me, and something tight in my chest loosens slightly.
"Did you seriously volunteer at a hospital all summer?" Tyler asks, steering the conversation away from my costume and back to what we had been awkwardly chatting about. I appreciate the gesture, even if it isn't necessary.
"Yeah, emergency department at University General," I nod, falling easily into my comfort zone. "Twelve-hour shifts, mostly nights. It was brutal but amazing."
"Maybe he's a sadist?" I hear Zombie Guy, Taj, I think, whisper to Banana Man. "Who volunteers for night shifts?"
"Someone who wants to see real medicine happen," I shoot back. "Daytime is just paperwork and waiting."
"So, is that where you learned all your medical knowledge?" Tyler asks, genuine curiosity in his voice. "The nursing program here?"
"Mostly," I reply, warming to the topic.
"Most of the hands-on stuff comes from clinical rotations.
Last month, I was working in the ER and saw everything from broken bones to…
" I catch myself before diving too deep into medical details that might gross him out.
"Well, let's just say college students on weekend nights keep us busy. "
Tyler's eyes light up with interest rather than the glazed-over look people usually get when I start talking medicine. "That sounds intense. Better than sitting through engineering lectures all day."
"It has its moments," I admit with a small smile. "Though I bet you don't have to deal with bodily fluids in engineering."
"Only coffee spills during all-nighters," he laughs. "Definitely less dramatic than your world."
"All this medical talk," Kai groans dramatically, "I'm getting flashbacks to Bio 101."
Tyler laughs. "You only took that class to sit near the cheerleaders."
"True," Kai grins, then turns to me. "But seriously, that makeup is professional-level. Drew's girlfriend Emily does theatre arts. She's gonna want your secrets."
The easy way he weaves me into their conversation, no awkwardness, no hesitation, catches me off guard. These frat guys aren't just tolerating me; they're actually trying to include me in their world.
We approach a large house with Greek letters illuminated above the porch: ΔΨΩ. Music pulses from inside, and carved pumpkins line the steps, their flickering candles creating dancing shadows.
Memories from freshman year flood back, the way those other frat guys' friendly demeanours changed once we were inside, the slurs when I looked too long at someone's costume, the drink I'd barely touched before deciding to leave. My steps falter.
Tyler notices immediately. "Everything okay?" he asks quietly, dropping back so the others walk ahead of us.
Maybe I should make an excuse. Say I remembered an early clinical rotation. Claim a headache, anything to avoid repeating past mistakes.
But Tyler's looking at me with genuine concern, and my gut feeling, the same instinct that tells me when a patient crashes before the monitors start screaming, says I can trust him.
"Last time I went to a frat party, it didn't end well," I admit, keeping my voice low.
Understanding dawns in his eyes. "This won't be like that," he says simply.
"You can't promise that."
"Actually, I can." The certainty in his voice makes me look up. "I'm the Vice President. Anyone who makes you uncomfortable answers to me."
The thumping bass from the speakers vibrates through the floorboards as we enter.
Halloween decorations hang from every available surface, fake cobwebs strung across doorways, plastic skeletons propped in corners, and the obligatory bowl of suspicious-looking red punch that glows under the black lights.
"Welcome to Halloween at Delta Psi," Tyler says as I take in the room. "The pledges did a decent job with the decorations."
I should probably text Sylas to let him know I'm okay. He's probably freaking out since I haven't responded to any of his messages yet. And I'm at a frat house of all places—he's going to have a complete meltdown.
I pull my phone from my pocket and see the screen lit up with notifications.
Sylas
Status update??
Sylas
Did The Two-Pump Tragedy actually show his face?
Sylas
Hello? Are you ignoring me?
Sylas
If you're riding the shame rollercoaster over him again, I WILL burn your favourite scrubs
Sylas
ETHAN. ANSWER ME.
Shit. Five text messages and two missed calls. He's freaking out.
I start typing a quick reply.
Hey, I'm fine. Ryan showed up but—
"Hey! There you are!"
Looking up, I see Gavin barreling toward us, his werewolf costume minus the mask now, carrying three red cups precariously between his massive hands. My phone gets shoved back into my pocket, message unsent, as Gavin thrusts a cup at me.
"You gotta try this! Special Delta Psi Halloween punch. Don't worry, we've got alcohol-free too if you prefer, but this batch is..." he winks dramatically, "enhanced."
Tyler rolls his eyes, but takes a cup. "By 'enhanced' he means it'll make you think you can dance."
I take the drink but don't taste it. Party rule number one: Don't take a drink from a stranger. "This is... not what I expected."
"What, the party or the drink?" Tyler asks, following my gaze to where a group of frat guys are cheering someone through a keg stand.
"All of it," I admit. "I've never actually stayed long at a frat party before."
"Why's that?" he asks, genuinely curious.
Hesitating, before I decide to be honest. "Let's just say my last frat experience involved a lot of guys who thought being in the same room as a gay person might be contagious."
Tyler winces. "That's fair. We're not all like that, though."
"I'm starting to see that," I say, watching as two guys in matching superhero costumes slow dance dramatically in the middle of the room while their friends cheer them on. "I expected more toxic masculinity and less... actual fun."