Chapter 7
Frat Boy See, Frat Boy Carry Away
TYLER
Ethan jumps back like he's been shocked, but I barely move. I stay firmly in his space as my brothers pour onto the porch behind Cameron.
"GET IT, VP!" someone whoops loudly.
Gavin appears in the doorway, grinning broadly. "About damn time, man!"
I watch Ethan's expression change like one of those Halloween decorations that transform when you walk past them: his confident smile fading, his eyes widening, and a flush spreading across his cheeks that makes the glitter on his face catch the light.
He bites his lower lip, and for a heart-stopping moment, I can't tell if he's trying not to laugh or desperately searching for an explanation the guys will believe.
His fingers fidget with the edge of his costume as he instinctively leans toward the exit. Then he straightens, his eyes returning to my face with an intensity that makes my breath catch, like he's trying to read something written in invisible ink on my face.
"I… we weren't… this isn't…" he stammers, backing into the railing. "You guys don't understand…"
The genuine fear in his expression hits me like a physical blow. This isn't just embarrassment; something about this situation has triggered a deeper panic in him. My protective instincts kick in immediately, and my smile fades.
"Hey," my voice is soft, stepping closer to create a barrier between him and the rest of the party. Placing a steady hand on his arm, I can feel the muscle tension. "It's okay. You're safe here."
Leaning closer, my words are only for him. They are too quiet for anyone else to hear. "Nobody here cares who we dance with. Or who we kiss. And if anyone did have a problem with it, they'd have to go through me first."
His breathing is still too fast, and his eyes are still too wide. Remembering what he said earlier about bad experiences at frat parties, his reaction suddenly makes perfect sense.
"Babe, you can relax.” My protective stance doesn't budge. "They're just jealous that I got to kiss the hot nurse."
"Seriously, Tyler?" Drew calls from the back of the group, Emily peeking around his shoulder with a delighted expression. "You've been staring at this guy for weeks, and you make your move when we're all here?"
"What, how did you know?" slips out at the same time Ethan says, "Weeks?"
This new habit, neck rubbing when nervous around Ethan, might become a problem if my rising body temperature is any indication. "Months, actually.” There’s no point in trying to hide it now.
The guys laugh, and it strikes me how different this is from what I feared. No disgust, no anger, just the same teasing they'd give me over any girl I liked.
"Didn't know you were into the sparkly twinks, Ty!" Cameron shouts, causing another round of laughter.
Ethan's face is growing redder by the second. "I should probably—" he starts, gesturing vaguely toward the door, clearly ready to bolt.
Watching him, I'm suddenly sure that if I let him leave now, he might never come back. He looks ready to file this under "embarrassing mistake" and disappear forever.
And I don't want that. Not at all.
"You know what?" My voice is calm but firm.. "Let's go talk."
Before he can respond, I bend down and, in one smooth motion, hoist him up and over my shoulder. He weighs almost nothing; all that gym time is paying off.
"What are you… PUT ME DOWN!" he yelps, suddenly dangling over my shoulder, those "NURSE HOTTIE" scrubs on full display for everyone to see.
My brothers lose it.
"DAAAAAMN, TY!" Cam howls with laughter. "Staking your claim?"
"Our VP finally bagged himself a Hot One!" Drew announces, arm around a giggling Emily.
"It's the psycho-killer instinct," Gavin calls out. "Find prey, throw over shoulder, drag to cave!"
"Hey!" I call back without stopping. "I resent that comparison. My room is way cleaner than a cave!"
"Barely!" someone shouts, earning more laughter.
Catching sight of Sylas pushing through the crowd, he looks shocked.
Ethan's struggles are half-hearted at best. My arm is secure around his thighs, and when his hands instinctively grab onto my back to steady himself, I feel a jolt of electricity where he touches me.
"The twink's gonna need those nursing skills after tonight!" Taj calls out, earning a loud cheer and then a smack up the back of his head from Gavin.
It feels good to have Ethan bury his face into my back as I carry him through the parting crowd. Every brother I pass adds another comment or wolf whistle, but none of them sound angry or disgusted; just the typical, idiotic comments I'd get with anyone I was interested in.
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Ian calls after us. "Which isn't much!"
“Gentlemen,” I acknowledge with a dip of my chin, proceeding through the gauntlet of my snickering brothers with Ethan's weight balanced perfectly across my shoulder. Emily gives an enthusiastic thumbs-up, but Sylas's expression instantly transforms from shock to fierce protectiveness.
"Where exactly do you think you're taking him?" Sylas demands, materializing in front of us with impressive speed considering his platform boots. His perfectly made-up eyes narrow dangerously. "Put. Him. Down."
Ethan's body, slung over my shoulder, tenses, vibrations traveling through his torso into mine as Ethan's upside-down voice defends us both. 'Sy, it's okay. I'm fine with this.'
Sylas doesn't budge, one glittered eyebrow raised skeptically. "You sure about that, honey? Because I can absolutely destroy this frat boy's pretty face if you need me to."
Adjusting my grip carefully, I swing Ethan around until I'm cradling him in front of me, princess style so that he can face his friend directly. His cheeks are flushed a spectacular shade of red that even extends to the tips of his adorable ears.
Since when do I find ears adorable? Well, his are, and I kind of want to nibble on one. Focus, you idiot!
A nearby pledge whistles. "Damn, VP's got the princess carry down perfect. Been practicing?"
"Nah," I quip without missing a beat. "Engineering. It's all about leverage and center of gravity."
"Is that what they're teaching you in those fancy classes?" Ethan mutters, his face still flaming red. "Advanced Manhandling 101?"
"I promise I'm okay," Ethan insists to his friend, the blush still blazing across his cheeks. But he won't quite meet my eyes now that we're face to face. "We're just going somewhere quieter to talk."
"Mmhmm. 'Talk.' Is that what they're calling it these days?" Sylas's eyes lock with mine. "Listen carefully, Fratty McHotbody. If you hurt him, they will never find your body. And I know enough nursing students to make it look like an accident."
"Understood," My voice serious as I meet his gaze. "I just want to talk to him. Promise."
Sylas studies me for another moment before stepping aside with dramatic flair. "You have twenty minutes before I come looking. With reinforcements."
I don't slow down when we reach the stairs, taking them two at a time with Ethan held tight against my mostly bare chest.
Some cheers follow us upstairs, along with Sylas yelling, “Twenty minutes!” The bedroom door shuts with a solid thunk, muffling the noise below.
As I gently set him down, his feet touching the floor but my hands still lingering on his waist, I'm hit by the thought that I just announced to my entire fraternity, through actions louder than words, that I'm attracted to a guy.
Oh, whoa.
The weird thing is, this realization doesn't scare me like it probably would have just a few months back.
Instead of freaking out, I feel this odd sense of "oh, this fits" settling in my chest, like puzzle pieces finally clicking together after being mixed up for years.
My thumbs absently trace small circles against the thin fabric of his scrubs, and I'm hyperaware of how natural it feels to be standing here with him, barely able to hear the muffled noise from the party below.
"So," I start brilliantly, "that happened."
Ethan laughs nervously, taking a small step back but not quite removing himself from my grip. "Did you just caveman-carry me through a party full of frat boys, or am I somewhere dreaming?"
"You are definitely awake, gorgeous, and I believe the technical term is 'firefighter carry,' but yes," I admit, one hand rubbing the back of my neck as a flush of embarrassment creeps up. "Not my smoothest move. I was sort of operating on instinct there."
"I can't believe I let you do that," Ethan groans, covering his face with his hands, his fingers spreading just enough that I can see his mortified green eyes peeking through.
"Everyone was watching! The whole frat! Sylas is never going to let me live this down. He's probably already planning our wedding colours and picking out china patterns. He'll have a Pinterest board by morning, I swear to my sleep-deprived nursing brain."
My fingers instinctively tighten on his hips, enjoying the slight curve there.
When he gets animated like this, his hands flutter expressively, and his green eyes widen in a way that makes my chest feel warm.
A laugh bubbles up from somewhere deep in my chest, rich and genuine.
I can't remember the last time someone made me laugh this naturally.
"Oh god, I forgot about the twenty-minute deadline," I say, thumb absently stroking the edge of his hip bone through his scrubs. The thin fabric there feels worn and soft, and I can feel the warmth of his skin radiating through it. My fingertips tingle with each small circle I trace.
Ethan peeks through his fingers, those brilliant green eyes catching the light from my desk lamp. His lashes are surprisingly long, I notice. "He once timed how long it took Ryan to text me back. With a stopwatch. For five days."
He drops his hands completely now, revealing the flush that's spread across his cheekbones. "He made a colour-coded spreadsheet with response-time averages and everything. Cross-referenced it with Ryan's class schedule to see if there were patterns."
"That's... impressively terrifying," I murmur, trying to process the level of dedication that requires.
My engineering brain can't help but admire the methodical approach, even while another part of me wonders what the spreadsheet revealed about this Ryan guy.
"Remind me never to get on Sylas's bad side.
I believed him when he said he could find creative ways to make me disappear without a trace. "
"Welcome to my life," Ethan says, finally dropping his hands and looking around my room. "So... your bedroom, huh? That's not presumptuous at all."
Heat rushes across my face, the warmth spreading from my neck to my hairline in an instant. My hand falls away from his hips like I've been shocked.
"I didn't... I mean, I wasn't—" I stumble over my words, tripping on my own good intentions. My room suddenly feels smaller than it did five minutes ago. The engineering textbooks stacked neatly on my desk and the carefully arranged photos of my family seem to be watching me fumble.
"It was just the first private place I thought of where we could actually talk without twenty guys interrupting. I swear I'm not trying to, you know, I wouldn't just assume—"
Running a hand through my hair, I mess up the psycho killer hairstyle I was so proud of earlier. "I just..." I pause, searching for the right words. "I didn't want you to leave. Not yet."
The confession just sits there between us, way more truthful than I meant it to be. Something changes in Ethan's eyes, a softness that makes my heart jump.
Smooth, Landis. Real smooth.... Get it together.
"Relax," Ethan says with a small smile, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.
"I'm teasing you. Though I should warn you that Sylas absolutely will break down this door in—" he checks an imaginary watch on his wrist, tapping the bare skin with his index finger, "—approximately eighteen minutes.
He has this sixth sense whenever I'm alone with someone he hasn't personally vetted through his extensive background check system.
He once tracked me down at a coffee shop across town just because I didn't answer a text fast enough. "
His green eyes scan my room, taking in the organized desk and the family photos while he rocks slightly on his heels. The slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth makes something flutter in my chest.
"Sorry, but he's probably already making a 'What if' plan for your disappearance. The guy missed his calling as a private investigator or maybe a very specialized assassin."
"He sounds intense," I say, leaning against my desk. "But also like he really cares about you."
"He does," Ethan nods, his expression turning serious for a moment. "Sylas has been my emotional support teddy bear through this whole rollercoaster with Ryan. Never once sugar-coated his opinion, though."
"Let me guess, he wasn't Ryan's biggest fan?"
Ethan lets out a small laugh. "That's putting it mildly. He's called Ryan everything from 'Asshat von Fuckface' to 'Fifty Shades of Nay.' My personal favourite is probably, 'Sir Ghosting McFuck-face.'"
"Creative," I say, impressed.
"Oh, he's got dozens more. Never repeats himself." Ethan's fingers trace along the edge of my desk absently. "But the thing is, beneath all the colourful insults, Sylas was right. He saw what I couldn't, or wouldn't, see. That Ryan was treating me like his dirty little secret."
There's a vulnerability in his voice that makes me want to reach for him again, but I hold back, giving him space to continue.
"Sylas isn't just being overprotective for the sake of it. He's seen how I've bent over backwards for someone who wouldn't even acknowledge me in public." Ethan looks up, meeting my gaze directly. "So yeah, he's a bit much sometimes, but I'd be lost without him."
"For what it's worth," I say softly, "I'm glad you have someone looking out for you like that."
Ethan looks surprised, like he expected me to mock Sylas's overprotectiveness. "Most guys find it annoying."
"Most guys probably didn't just carry you through a frat party, Princess style, in front of everyone they know," I counter with a grin. "Besides, anyone who comes up with nicknames that good has earned some respect."