Chapter 13
When the Garbage Refuses to Take Itself Out
ETHAN
Afeeling of being watched follows me all week.
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.
"What if it just makes him angrier?" I ask quietly.
Sylas puts down his fork. "Then at least you'll have documentation of harassment if you need it," he says seriously. "And we'll deal with it. Together."
Nodding, I take a deep breath and pull up Ryan's contact. I stare at it for a long moment, then hit "Block this Caller."
"There," I say, feeling relief and a strange kind of sadness. "Done."
"Good," Sylas says, squeezing my arm. "Now tell me more about the other frat guys at the car wash on Saturday. Do you think I can bring a lawn chair and watch?"
The subject change is precisely what I need. "Absolutely not," I say, laughing. "You can't just show up to ogle shirtless frat boys. That would be weird."
"How is it weird?" Sylas says, looking genuinely offended. "It's a public event! I'd be supporting a charity while appreciating fine male specimens. That's practically community service."
"It's creepy, and besides, I'm nervous enough without having my best friend sitting on the sidelines with popcorn and a scoring paddle."
"I would never," Sylas says, then reconsiders. "Okay, I definitely would. But I'd be subtle about it."
"You've never been subtle a day in your life," I point out. "Remember when you tried secretly checking out that barista at Grounds for Thought and knocked over an entire display of coffee beans?"
"That was different," Sylas mutters. "He had exceptional forearms. They caught me off guard."
My head shakes side to side. "The point is, no. You cannot come to watch. At least not this time. Let me figure out where I stand with Tyler before introducing him further to your particular brand of chaos."
"Fine," Sylas sighs dramatically. "But I expect a full report. With photos. And a detailed breakdown of which frat brother has the best abs. For research purposes."
"You're the worst," I say, fighting the twitch at the corner of my mouth. Giving Sylas the satisfaction of making me smile would only encourage his particular brand of lunacy.
"Yet somehow still your best friend," he counters cheerfully. "So, what time is this wet t-shirt extravaganza starting?"
Tuesday passes without incident, and I think maybe the blocking worked.
But on Wednesday, as I'm crossing through the science building to reach my anatomy lab, I see a familiar figure at the end of the hallway.
Ryan's head turns, his eyes locking with mine for a brief, electric moment before I duck into a side corridor and take the long way to my lab.
My heart pounds the entire way, adrenaline making my hands shake even as I tell myself I'm overreacting. It's a public building. He's allowed to be there. It doesn't mean he's following me.
But when I catch another glimpse of him outside the library where I'm studying that evening, the coincidence feels too deliberate to ignore.
Tyler
Hey
Tyler's text lights up my phone, a welcome distraction.
Tyler
How's your week going?
Now I'm smiling for the first time all day.
Better now. How about yours?
Tyler
Busy with midterms. But looking forward to Saturday
Me too. Spent way too much time deciding what to wear
Tyler
Wear whatever you want. You look good in everything
My cheeks burn, the flush spreading across my face like wildfire.
You've only seen me in regular clothes and scrubs…
Tyler
And out of them. Still looking good
I nearly drop my phone, glancing around the library to make sure no one can see my screen. This flirty, confident Tyler still surprises me.
You're terrible
Tyler
That's not what you said the other night
I'm typing a response when I feel it again, that crawling sensation of being watched. I look up sharply.
The library is half-full of students hunched over textbooks and laptops. No one is paying attention to me. But I can't shake the feeling of eyes on me.
I pack up my things quickly, suddenly eager to be back in my apartment with the door locked.
I have to go. Talk tomorrow?
Tyler
Everything ok?
Hesitating because I don't want to sound paranoid.
Just tired. Goodnight!
Hurrying out of the library, I take the well-lit path home, checking over my shoulder more than once. The November evening air has a bite to it, but I barely notice, my mind replaying the conversation with Tyler on loop.
My date. If you want to be.
Those words follow me all the way back to my apartment.
Tyler
Looking forward to Saturday. Sweet dreams, Nurse Hottie
As I unlock my door, my phone buzzes with a text from Tyler:
A ridiculous smile spreads across my face. Sylas would mock me mercilessly for how giddy I feel over a simple text, but right now, I don't care.
For the first time in longer than I can remember, I'm actually excited about what tomorrow might bring.
By Friday, I'm starting to feel like I'm losing my mind. I haven't seen Ryan again, but I still can't shake this feeling that someone's watching me. When I mention it to Sylas, he insists on walking me to and from classes, his protective streak in full force.
"You're being ridiculous," I tell him as we head to the Health Sciences building for my lab assistant shift. "I'm perfectly capable of walking by myself."
"I know you are. But humour me."
The truth is, I'm grateful he's here with me. Even if I'm making a big deal out of nothing, having him around makes me feel safer.
"So what are you doing in the lab today?" Sylas asks as we cross the quad. "More exciting inventory?"
My eyes roll. "Setting up for next week's simulations. We're doing wound care, so I need to prepare all the fake injuries."
"Gross," Sylas wrinkles his nose. "But also kind of cool."
"It is cool," I agree. "We use this special wax to create different types of wounds. Some of them look incredibly realistic."
"Perfect for Halloween," Sylas notes. "Next year, you could make a fortune."
We reach the Health Sciences building, and Sylas inspects the lobby before declaring it "stalker-free."
"Text me when you're done," he says. "I'll come get you."
"Yes, Mom." The words come out dry, but my hand squeezes his arm in thanks.
When I arrive, the nursing lab is empty, which isn't unusual for a Friday afternoon. Most students are already starting their weekends. I pull out my keys and unlock the supply cabinet, mentally running through everything I need to set up.
I'm midway through arranging simulation supplies at the first station when the hair on the back of my neck stands up.
"You're not supposed to be in here, Ryan," I say without turning around, somehow knowing it's him even before I look.
"Since when do you care about rules?" His voice is closer than I expected. "You never minded when I broke them to see you before."
Taking a deep breath, I turn, keeping the supply cart between us. "What do you want?"
"You know what I want." His eyes are hard, nothing like the Ryan I thought I knew. "We need to talk properly. Without your oversized bodyguard interrupting."
"There's nothing to talk about." I'm proud of how steady my voice sounds, even as my heart hammers. "We're done. I've moved on."
His laugh is bitter. "To a straight frat boy? Good luck with that."
The mention of Tyler sends a chill down my spine. "What do you know about that?"
"Everyone knows," Ryan says, his tone dismissive. "The VP of Delta Phi suddenly playing for the other team? It's all over campus."
I didn't realize people were talking about us. The thought makes me both nervous and strangely pleased. Tyler isn't hiding anything.
"It's not really your business either way," I say, trying to keep my voice level.
"It is when you're making a fool of yourself." Ryan takes a step closer, and I tense. "He's using you, Ethan. Guys like that always do."
"You don't know anything about him."
"I know his type. He's experimenting, and you're the convenient test subject." Ryan's expression turns almost pitying. "I'm trying to save you from getting hurt."
The audacity of that statement makes me laugh. "Save me? You're the one who hurt me, Ryan. You cheated on me. You treated me like your dirty secret. And now you can't stand that. I found someone who respects me enough to be seen with me in public."
Ryan's face darkens. "Is that what you think? That I was ashamed of you?"
"What else should I think?" I ask, genuine anger rising now. "You never introduced me to your friends. We never went anywhere together off campus. You always had some excuse why we couldn't be a real couple."
"I was protecting you!" Ryan insists, his voice rising. "I was trying to keep our private life private."
"Bullshit," I say flatly. "You were protecting yourself. And that's fine, coming out is your own decision. But you don't get to string me along while you figure it out."
Moving to step around the cart, I'm suddenly tired of this conversation. "Now, please leave. I have work to do."
Ryan blocks my path. "We're not done."
"Yes, we are." Standing my ground, I refuse to step back.
Ryan steps closer, lowering his voice. "What we had was special, Ethan. This thing with Landis is not going to last. When he's done experimenting, he'll go back to girls, and where will that leave you?"
His words hit a nerve, tapping directly into my insecurities, but I refuse to let it show. "That's my risk to take."
Ryan's mask finally slips completely. "People don't leave me, Ethan. I leave them.” His voice turns cold, ugly. "You're just some little piece of ass who got lucky I paid attention to you. Why couldn’t you just shut the fuck up, bend over, and be grateful?"
The words hit like a physical blow. This is who he really is underneath all the sweet talk.
"You think some pretty boy frat asshole is going to want you long-term?" Ryan's voice drops to something ice-cold and vicious. "That mouth of yours was made for one thing, and it wasn't talking back to me. When he's done using you and tosses you aside, don't come crawling back."
With a subtle jerk, my hand pulls away. "He understands that no means no. That's already more than I can say for you."
Something on my face makes him back off. I jump when his fist hits the wall beside the doorway on his way out. He turns back, his eyes dark with rage. "You've really fucked up now, Ethan.”
The door slams behind him with a harsh crash that echoes down the empty hallway. Before this week, I've never felt uncomfortable around Ryan. Disappointed, sure, but never something like this.
For the first time, I walk over and lock the door before going back to work.