Chapter 14
Soaped Studs and Stirred Feelings
ETHAN
After the week I've had, I almost cancel on the car wash. Between Ryan's ambush and the constant feeling of being watched, I'm exhausted and on edge. But by Saturday morning, the thought of seeing Tyler, and, yes, seeing Tyler wet, wins out over my anxiety.
Arriving at the student union parking lot a bit after ten. My blue board shorts and dark navy t-shirt feel pretty dark next to what I figure frat guys wear to these things. Parking my bike at the edge of the lot I take a second to look around.
They've transformed the space into an efficient operation, cars lined up, music pumping from massive speakers, and fraternity brothers directing traffic through three washing stations.
Most of the guys are wearing white T-shirts that have become nearly transparent from the water, clinging to muscled torsos.
A few have abandoned shirts altogether, drawing appreciative stares from people waiting in their cars.
My eyes scan the crowd, looking for Tyler. I spot him near the middle station, hose in hand, laughing as he sprays down a Honda Civic. Even from here, I can see how his white shirt has become practically see-through, moulded to his broad chest and shoulders. My mouth goes dry.
He turns, still laughing, and our eyes meet across the lot. His whole face transforms, lighting up in a way that makes my stomach flip. Without warning, he turns the hose and sprays the tall guy next to him, Gavin, who yelps and lunges for Tyler.
"Hold this!" Tyler shouts, thrusting the hose into the hands of another brother before jogging toward me, dodging Gavin's attempt to tackle him.
"You came," he says when he reaches me, slightly out of breath. He stops just short of touching me, water dripping from his clothes onto the pavement between us.
"I said I would," I'm unable to keep my mouth from smiling. "Nice setup you guys have."
"Thanks," he says, running a hand through his wet hair. "We do this twice a year. Usually raises a few thousand for the shelter."
Nodding absentmindedly, I notice that a bunch of the frat guys are watching us with obvious curiosity. Tyler sees where my glance goes, and he rolls his eyes.
"Ignore them," he says. "They're just nosy."
"I heard that!" calls a guy with dark curly hair, grinning as he approaches us. "As Social Chair, it's literally my job to be nosy about our VP's love life."
"Ethan, this is Ian," Tyler introduces, looking slightly embarrassed. "He has no filter and no shame."
"Accurate," Ian agrees cheerfully, offering a wet hand to shake. "We've heard a lot about you, Ethan."
As I shake his hand, my eyebrow raises at Tyler. "Have you now?"
Tyler groans. "Don't encourage him."
"Tyler mentioned you're in the nursing program?" Ian continues, ignoring Tyler's glare. "That's awesome. We've got a couple pre-med guys, but no nurses."
"It's a great program," I say, surprised by his genuine interest.
"Well, we're glad you're here," Ian says warmly. "Maybe you can keep this one in line." He jerks a thumb at Tyler. "He's been annoyingly cheerful all week."
"I hate you," Tyler tells Ian, who just laughs.
"No, you don't. Now, get back to work before Drew has a fit. I'll get Ethan set up." Ian turns to me. "You ready to get wet for a good cause?"
"Um, sure," I'm trying not to fixate on how that phrase could be interpreted.
Ian winks, clearly catching my train of thought. "I meant the dogs and cats, but I like where your head's at."
Tyler shoves him playfully. "Behave."
"Never," Ian says with a grin. "Now go. Drew's giving you the look."
Tyler glances over his shoulder at a tall guy staring in our direction with his arms crossed. "Fine. But no embarrassing stories," he warns Ian before turning to me. "I'll find you later?"
"I'll be here," I promise.
As Tyler jogs back to his station, I catch myself admiring the way his wet shorts cling to his thighs.
"He's got a nice ass, right?" Ian says conversationally.
Choking a little. "I, uh—"
"Relax," Ian laughs. "We're all friends here. And trust me, he's been equally obvious about checking you out."
Heat rises to my face. "Good to know."
Ian leads me to a supply table, where I'm given my own sponge and bucket. "You can work with Marcus at station three," he says, pointing to where a guy with dark skin and an impressive build is carefully washing an elderly woman's Buick. "He's the responsible one."
"Unlike you?" I can't help but ask.
Ian clutches his chest dramatically. "I'm wounded. But yes, exactly unlike me. I'm the fun one."
His easy demeanour helps settle my nerves. Maybe this won't be so awkward after all.
Two hours in, I'm soaked to the skin, my dark t-shirt clinging uncomfortably, but I'm having more fun than I expected. The guys have all been super friendly, making me feel like part of the group.
Marcus works carefully on the cars, teaching me how to wash them without leaving marks. The people who own the cars, mostly students and teachers, are nice. They put money in a big jar covered with pictures of animals from the shelter.
I see Tyler here and there all morning. While I don't think the guys are keeping us apart on purpose, they do seem to laugh at Tyler an awful lot.
When I look up, sometimes, he's looking back at me, offering a smile or a wave.
Other times, he's focused on his work, his muscles flexing as he scrubs at stubborn dirt on a wheel well or stretches to reach the roof of an SUV.
Several times, I notice people, mostly women, lingering after their cars are done, clearly enjoying the show the brothers are putting on.
"You're getting the hang of it," Marcus tells me as we finish up a filthy pickup truck. "You're a natural."
"Thanks," I say, wringing out my sponge. "It's actually kind of satisfying, seeing the before and after."
"That's what I like about it too," he agrees. "Plus, it's for a good cause. Last year, we helped fund the shelter's spay and neuter program for a full quarter."
Before I can say anything back, a shiny red convertible pulls up to our station with its top down and music blaring. The driver is that stunning girl from Halloween night. She stares directly at Tyler across the lot with her long, dark hair and oversized sunglasses.
"Shit," Marcus mutters under his breath. "It's Cher."
"Oh yeah, Cher," which is obvious and adds nothing useful to the conversation.
"Tyler's ex," he explains quickly, not knowing I have already had the misfortune of meeting her. "Don't worry, I got this."
Marcus steps forward with a professional smile. "Welcome to Delta Psi Omega's charity car wash. We'll have you taken care of in no time."
She barely glances at him. "Actually, I was hoping Tyler could wash my car. We have some catching up to do."
Her tone makes it clear that "catching up" isn't all she has in mind. Something uncomfortable twists in my stomach.
"Sorry," Marcus says, not sounding sorry at all. "Tyler's station is full at the moment. But Ethan and I will take good care of your car."
She finally looks at us, her gaze lingering on me with obvious assessment. "You again," she says.
"I'm just helping out." I can feel a fake smile take over my face.
"How nice," she says, her voice dripping with insincerity. She turns back to Marcus. "I can wait for Tyler."
"We try to keep things moving efficiently," Marcus says firmly. "And there's a line forming. So, if you'd like your car washed, we're happy to do it. Otherwise, I can direct you to the exit."
Cher looks like she's about to argue, but then Tyler appears at the next station over, pulling off his soaked white t-shirt and using it to wipe his face.
A bunch of people in line make sounds like they're enjoying the sight, and honestly, I get it.
Water droplets run down his chest and abs, catching the sunlight.
When he lowers the shirt, his eyes meet mine, and he smiles, that genuine, warm smile that seems reserved just for me. My unease about Cher evaporates.
"Fine," she says tersely, breaking my focus. You can wash it." She walks out of the car deliberately, stretching to show off her figure.
Marcus rolls his eyes behind her back. "We'll have it done in less than 10 minutes."
"Take your time," she says, pulling out her phone and wandering toward where Tyler is now rinsing a minivan.
"Sorry about that," Marcus murmurs to me as we get to work. "She's been trying to get back with Tyler for weeks."
"It's fine," I say, though I can't help watching as she approaches Tyler, tossing her hair back and touching his arm as she speaks.
"Don't worry," Marcus says, clearly noticing my concern. "Tyler's been shutting her down pretty hard. And now I see why." He grins at me.
Blushing, I focus on washing the convertible's hood. "We're just... It's new."
"New is good," Marcus says quickly. "And for what it's worth, I've known Tyler for three years, and I've never seen him look at Cher or anyone like he looks at you."
His words make something warm bloom in my chest, and I hide my smile by ducking down to scrub the car's license plate.
I've mostly pushed my jealousy away when we finish Cher's convertible. Marcus is right; whenever I look over, Tyler is keeping a polite but clear distance from his ex, even though she keeps finding reasons to touch him or stand too close.
"Your car is ready," Marcus calls to her, and she breaks off mid-sentence to Tyler, who looks relieved.
She checks the car carefully, then tosses a twenty in the donation jar without looking at us. As she gets into the driver's seat, she throws out one last comment just loud enough for me to catch.
"When you're done with your little experiment, Tyler, call me."
My gut sinks as her words hit home, bringing up all the fears I've been trying to ignore. Luckily for me, another car pulls up, and we get busy with work again.