Chapter 25
Anatomy of a Frame Job
TYLER
Standing frozen on the porch, I stare at the spot where Ethan had been just moments ago, the photos still clutched in my hand. The silence around me feels deafening.
"What the hell just happened?" Drew asks, breaking the spell.
My head lifts slowly, disorientation settling over me like waking I'm waking from a nightmare. "I... I don't know. These photos..." spreading them out on the porch railing with shaking hands. "They're fake. They have to be. I never kissed Cher that night."
Gavin examines the photos, his brow furrowed. "They look pretty convincing."
"They're not real," I insist, hearing the desperate edge in my voice. "I was with Ethan for most of that night, and when I wasn't, I was helping Drew break up that fight between the baseball guys, remember?"
Drew nods slowly. "That's true. You were with me."
"Then how do these exist?" James asks, pointing to the photos.
My eyes drift to the edge of our yard where Cher stands watching with a small, satisfied smile playing at her lips.
Our eyes meet for a moment, hers triumphant, mine devastated, before she turns away, whispering something to her sorority sisters who glance back with mixed expressions of curiosity and discomfort.
"I don't know," my voice quiet while the urge to puke builds. "But I know I didn't do this."
Gavin gathers up the photos, studying them intently. "Something's not right about these. I'm going to figure out what it is."
"It doesn't matter," I tell him, sinking down onto the porch step. "Ethan won't believe me. You saw his face. He thinks everything was a lie."
"Then we'll prove it wasn't," James says firmly, placing a hand on my shoulder. "We'll find a way."
But I barely hear him, too caught up thinking about Ethan crying, the hurt in his eyes, the finality in his voice. Lose my number. Never contact me again. The words echo in my mind, along with the one thing he said that cut the deepest: You were different. You made me believe you were different.
Because I had been different with him, for him, and now it was all shattered, destroyed by a cruel lie I hadn't even seen coming.
Drew crouches beside me, face set with determination. "This isn't over. Someone set you up, and we'll find out who."
My head bobs in automatic agreement, but nothing pulls my eyes from the empty space where Ethan stood just moments ago. The ghost of our confrontation still playing in my mind.
"Holy shit, guys!" Ian bursts through the front door, phone in hand, eyes wide. "Someone just posted a video of what happened out here. They tagged the fraternity account and everything."
My head snaps up. "What?"
"The whole thing, Ethan confronting you, the photos, all of it. It's already got dozens of comments." Ian turns his phone around, showing a social media post. "It's spreading fast."
"Let me see that," Drew says, taking the phone. His expression darkens as he scrolls. "This is deliberate. Someone planned this whole thing."
"Who would do that?" Gavin asks, but we all know the answer.
Looking back to where Cher had been standing, I see she's gone now. My private heartbreak has just become a public spectacle, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.
"These are definitely manipulated," Gavin says, grabbing the photos from where I've spread them on the porch railing. "James, can you tell if these are photoshopped?"
James nods slowly, taking the stack. "Yeah, I'll look at them. If they're fakes, there will be evidence."
Their voices sound far away, like I'm underwater. All I can hear is Ethan's voice, cracking with pain: You were different. You made me believe you were different. His face, hurt, betrayed, and devastated, is burned into my mind.
"Tyler?" Drew's hand lands on my shoulder. "You okay?"
It's such a ridiculous question that I laugh, the sound harsh to my ears. "Yeah, I'm great. My boyfriend just broke up with me in front of half the campus because he thinks I cheated on him with my ex, who was standing there watching the whole thing. I'm fucking fantastic."
Drew doesn't flinch at my tone. His grip on my shoulder tightens. "We're going to fix this."
"How?" my anger is giving way to a hollow ache. "He won't believe me. You saw how angry he was."
"We'll prove the photos are fake," Drew says firmly. "Someone set you up, and we're going to find out who."
"I need a drink," the words come out as a mutter while brushing past Drew and heading inside.
Heading straight for the kitchen, I find a half-empty bottle of whiskey in the cabinet above the fridge. I don't bother with a glass, taking a long pull directly from the bottle. The liquor burns down my throat, a physical pain to match the emotional one tearing me apart.
Marcos enters the kitchen, stopping short when he sees me. "Whoa, maybe slow down there."
"Piss off. I'm not in the mood for advice," Another mouthful goes down.
"Fair enough." He hesitates, then grabs two glasses from the cabinet. "But at least use a glass. We're not animals."
Letting him pour me a smaller amount, I knock it back right away and hold out my glass for another. Marcos fills it up without saying anything, just leans against the counter across from me.
"Want to talk about it?" he asks after a minute of silence.
"No."
"Want me to leave you alone?"
The question hangs in the air as something in my chest tightens. My head shakes slowly. "Not really."
"Okay." He refills his own glass. "We don't have to talk. We can just stand here and get drunk."
That's precisely what we do for the next hour.
Other brothers drift in and out of the kitchen, each one checking on me in their own way.
Cameron brings a plate of nachos that I ignore.
Ian tries to tell a joke. Gavin gives a brief update that he and James are "working on something" before disappearing back upstairs.
By the time Drew returns to the kitchen, the bottle is nearly empty, and I'm having trouble standing straight.
"I think you've had enough," he says gently, taking the glass from my hand.
"Not enough," my words are slurring slightly. "Still remember his face."
Drew sighs, exchanging a look with Marcos. "Come on. Let's get you upstairs."
They each take an arm, guiding me toward the stairs. I'm not exactly resisting, but I'm not helping much either, my feet dragging as the room spins around me.
"He didn't even let me explain," I mumble as they maneuver me up the steps. "Wouldn't listen."
"He was hurt," Drew says diplomatically. "People don't think clearly when they're hurt."
"I would've listened to him," The words come out insistent despite stumbling on the top step. "I always listen to him."
"I know, buddy."
They get me to my room and sit me on the edge of my bed. Marcos leaves to get water, while Drew helps me pull off my shoes.
"He said I was different," looking up at Drew with bleary eyes. "He said I made him believe I was different."
Drew's expression softens with sympathy. "You are different, Tyler. And we're going to make sure he knows that."
Marcos returns with a glass of water and some aspirin, which I dutifully swallow under their watchful eyes. The room is spinning more insistently now, and I let them ease me back onto the pillows.
"Get some rest," Drew says, pulling the blanket over me. "Things will be clearer in the morning."
My eyes are already closing, alcohol and emotional exhaustion dragging me toward unconsciousness. "Ethan," I murmur, already half-asleep. "Need to tell Ethan..."
The last thing I'm aware of is Drew's hand on my shoulder and his quiet voice, "We'll fix this, Tyler. I promise."
Waking up, my head is pounding and there's a foggy memory of yesterday's mess. I just lie here, looking up at the ceiling, thinking about everything that happened with Ethan. I saw the pain in his eyes. I heard how disgusted he sounded. The way he said goodbye was like he meant it forever.
My phone pings with yet another notification, probably another comment on the video that's going viral on campus social media.
I haven't checked, but according to a grim-faced Cameron, who brought me aspirin earlier, someone recorded Ethan breaking up with me and posted it online.
Perfect. Now, all this is public entertainment.
Dragging myself out of bed, I wince at the movement. A shower helps a little, washing away the stale smell of whiskey, but doing nothing for the hollow ache in my chest. Pulling on jeans and a hoodie, I don't bother with my usual care in getting dressed. What's the point?
Downstairs, the house is surprisingly quiet. Drew's note on the kitchen counter explains that most of the guys are in class, but Gavin and James are "working on something important" upstairs.
I don't have the energy to look for them. Instead, I grab my keys and head outside, desperate for coffee and a change of scenery. The crisp November air clears my head a bit as I walk to Beans & Books, the coffee shop just off campus, where Ethan and I like to study together.
It's a mistake coming here, too many memories of Ethan laughing across the table, his nose scrunched up as he tried to pronounce complicated medical terms, his fingers brushing mine as he passed me half of his muffin.
But I can't face the dining hall or any other public space on campus where people might recognize me from the video.
The coffee shop is busy but not packed. Ordering a large black coffee, no fancy drinks today, and find a table in the corner, hoping to remain anonymous. It works for approximately three minutes.
"Oh my god, that's him," a girl whispers loudly at the next table, not bothering to lower her voice enough. "The frat guy from the video."
Her friend leans closer. "I heard he was cheating the whole time. My roommate's in Theta Pi Nu with Cher, and she said they never really broke up."
"That's so messed up. Did you see that nursing student's face? He looked destroyed."
"I know, right? Men are trash."