Chapter 27 #2
"I know," he admits, looking a bit embarrassed. "And that's my fault. I messed things up between us."
That's putting it mildly. He dealt with my wanting to be more open by not answering my texts for weeks, then casually saying he didn't think "this thing" was working out when I finally caught up with him face-to-face.
Then, somehow, he reeled me back in again and again while always keeping me at a distance when we were in public.
"I was going through some stuff," he continues when I don't respond. "Coming to terms with who I am. It wasn't fair to drag you into that."
"No, it wasn't," I agree, zipping up my bag.
"But I've changed," he insists, stepping closer. "I've grown up. Figured some things out." His hand reaches out, touching my arm lightly. "When I heard what that Tyler guy did to you... It made me realize how much I still care."
Looking at him, I'm stuck between not trusting him and wanting to feel anything besides how awful I've felt lately. Ryan's someone I know. Safe, in a weird way, I already know exactly how he can hurt me. No surprises there.
"That's... convenient timing," I say, trying to maintain some distance.
"Maybe," he admits. "Or maybe it's finally the right time for us." His fingers trail down my arm, a gentle touch that I used to crave. "We could take it slow. Do things right this time."
For a moment, a quick, weak moment, I forget what I just said to Sylas, and I think about it. Going back to something familiar feels tempting when you're hurting. But as Ryan keeps talking, the picture in my head begins to fall apart.
"We'd be more careful, of course," he says, lowering his voice. "Keep things private until we're both ready. No need to make the same mistakes as last time by rushing to go public."
And there it is, the same old Ryan wanting to keep me a secret. The difference with Tyler, who proudly showed me off to his friends, held my hand on campus, and never once seemed embarrassed to be seen with me, hits me hard.
"I can't do that again," my head shaking as I step back from his touch.
His expression shifts slightly, confusion replacing the confident charm. "Do what?"
"Hide. Sneak around. Pretend we're just friends in public." Grabbing my bag from the bench. "I deserve someone who's proud to be with me."
"Like the frat boy?" Ryan scoffs, his nice-guy act falling apart. "The guy who cheated on you with his ex-girlfriend? Yeah, he was really proud to be with you."
His casual cruelty hits me like a punch to the gut. "At least he showed me off in public," I fire back, feeling my anger rise. "That's way more than you ever did."
"Come on, Ethan," Ryan says, his tone placating now. "You're not being realistic. Guys like us—"
"Guys like you," I interrupt. "Don't put me in your closet, Ryan. I'm not ashamed of who I am."
"Neither am I," he insists, but I catch him checking the door real quick. That gives him away. "I'm just practical. The world isn't as nice as you want to think."
"Tyler's frat brothers didn't seem to have a problem with us," I point out, feeling a sting as I remember how they'd all been so nice to me.
Ryan's expression hardens. "Those frat boys were probably laughing behind your back the whole time. You think someone like Tyler Landis would seriously date someone like you? You were an experiment, Ethan. A novelty."
The words hit exactly where they're intended to, right at my deepest insecurities. For a second, I can't even speak, the hurt still too raw.
"You're not good enough for someone like him," Ryan continues, pressing his advantage. "Not attractive enough, not connected enough. It was only a matter of time before he went back to what he wanted."
Each word is like a knife, carefully aimed. And perhaps the most painful thing is that part of me believes him. Hasn't that been my fear all along? That Tyler would eventually realize I wasn't worth the trouble of exploring his newfound sexuality? Was I just a phase?
But then, other memories pop up out of nowhere.
Tyler's face when he spotted me across a packed room.
He really listened when I talked about nursing, about my family, about what I want for my future.
He never hurried me, never pushed me, always checked I was okay before we moved forward with anything.
Would someone who was "just experimenting" have been so careful with my heart?
The pictures pop back into my head, but now I see them in a new light.
Something about them seemed weird, like they were too perfect in how bad they made Tyler look.
And why would they end up right in my locker, where only I'd find them?
If Tyler was cheating, why go through all that trouble to show me?
"You know what?" I say, interrupting Ryan's continued litany of reasons why Tyler and I were doomed from the start. "You're wrong."
He blinks, caught off guard by my sudden confidence. "Excuse me?"
"You're wrong about Tyler, about me, about all of it." I start grabbing my stuff, suddenly seeing things clearly. "I need to go."
Ryan's face changes, his fake sympathy turning to annoyance. "Come on, Ethan. I'm just trying to help you. That guy made a fool of you in front of everyone at school. It's all over social media."
"How did you know about that?" I ask sharply. "The video?"
"Everyone knows," he says, a little too quickly. "It's been shared everywhere."
"But how did you know exactly where to find me today?" The question has been nagging at me. "How did you know I'd be back in class?"
Ryan hesitates, just for a second. "Lucky guess. Thursday labs are standard for your program."
It sounds believable enough, but something about the way he says it feels practiced. I look at his face more carefully and notice something I didn't see before: behind his worried expression, his eyes are working things out, like he's planning his next move.
"You know, those photos that showed up in my locker were convenient. Professional quality, perfect timing." Each word drops with growing suspicion.
Ryan's expression doesn't change, but a muscle in his jaw tightens. "What are you implying?"
"Nothing," I say, watching him carefully. "Just thinking out loud about how strange it all was. How someone would have needed access to the nursing building to plant those photos."
"You're not making sense," Ryan says dismissively. "You should sit down. You're obviously still upset."
He reaches for my arm, but I step back. "Don't touch me. I'm leaving."
As I turn to go, his hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist with unexpected force. "Wait."
"Let go," tugging against his grip.
Instead, he pushes me back against the lockers, his face close to mine. "You're not thinking clearly. That frat boy messed with your head."
"Ryan, you're hurting me," I say, trying to stay calm even though warning bells are going off in my head. I've never seen him like this, so intense, almost desperate.
"We're good together, Ethan," he insists, his voice dropping lower. "We make sense. Not you and some straight guy playing gay until graduation."
"He's not playing anything.” The words come out fierce while I struggle against his hold. "And neither am I. Let Me Go!"
Ryan's grip tightens. "Those pictures did you a favour," he hisses. "They showed you who he is before you got in any deeper."
The words hit the air and just hang there. "What do you know about those pictures?" I ask, keeping my voice low.
Something flickers in his eyes before he schools his expression. "Nothing. Just that they must have shown the truth, given how upset you were."
"The truth," I repeat. "How would you know what the truth is, Ryan? You weren't at that party. You've never been to any of the frat parties, have you?"
His lips press into a thin line. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that we can start fresh now. Forget about Tyler Landis and his bitch sorority girlfriend."
As I stare at him, the pieces begin clicking into place. "You had something to do with those photos, didn't you? You and Cher."
"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffs, but there's a nervous edge to his voice. "There's no proof of anything."
The slip is all the confirmation I need. "Let me go," I say again, keeping my voice steady while not showing how pissed off I’m getting.
"Not until you listen to reason," he insists, crowding me further against the lockers. One of his hands is on my arm, the other wrapped around the front of my throat. "We're getting back together, and we're going to forget all this crap ever happened."
I've had enough. In one quick move, I slam my knee up between his legs. Ryan folds over with a pained gasp, his grip getting loose enough for me to push him away.
"Fuck off, Ryan," I say, breathing hard. "We're done. Forever."
Before he can recover, the locker room door swings open, and Sylas appears, looking worried.
"Ethan? You were supposed to meet me—" he stops, taking in the scene, Ryan hunched over, me backed against the lockers. "What the hell?"
"We need to go," hands snatching my bag. "Now."
Ryan lunges forward, grabbing at my shirt. "You little—"
Sylas moves quicker than I've ever seen, pushing Ryan backward so hard he falls flat on the floor. "Don't you fucking touch him!" he shouts, stepping between us like a shield.
Ryan struggles to his feet, gripping his balls, rage contorting his face. "You're going to regret that," he spits, advancing toward us.
Sylas grabs my arm and yanks me toward the door. We rush into the hallway while Ryan yells curse words behind us, threatening to hurt us as his voice bounces off the walls.
We nearly collide with a campus security guard rounding the corner. He looks alert and concerned, probably responding to the noise from the locker room. Relief floods through me at the sight of his uniform. He has perfect timing.
"What's going on here?" he demands, looking between us and the locker room where Ryan's shouting continues.
"He attacked my friend," Sylas says breathlessly. "In the locker room. He was threatening him."