Chapter 27 #3
The guard's face gets all serious when he sees how freaked out we look and hears Ryan still yelling threats from inside. "Stay right here," he tells us, grabbing his radio to call for help before he heads into the locker room.
What follows is a blur of activity. A second security guard arrives and runs into the change room.
The two men restrain Ryan, who's still red-faced and shouting obscenities.
I'm aware of how I must look, my shirt partially torn at the collar, visible marks on my arms where he grabbed me, my hair messed up from the struggle.
Even though he's still bent over from me kneeing him in the groin, Ryan still gives me this look so full of hate that I can't help but back up a step.
"You'll pay for this," he hisses as they lead him away. "Both of you."
Then comes the endless process of statements, first to campus security, then to the actual police when they decide Ryan's threats plus assault warrant the 911 call.
We tell our story over and over: how Ryan trapped me in the locker room, how he grabbed me, how he admitted he was behind the fake photos, how he threatened us when we tried to leave.
The police take photos of the bruises that have blossomed on my arms and throat.
By the time they let us go, it's already evening. The university counsellor who talks to us seems nice but tired, giving us pamphlets and telling us about assault survivor support options that I can barely focus on. All I want to do is head back to Blake's place and crash.
"You okay?" Sylas asks as we finally leave the administration building, the campus is dark around us.
"I don't know," my voice comes out tired and a bit strained. "I think Ryan helped fake those photos of Tyler. He kind of admitted it."
Sylas nods slowly. "I heard some of what he was yelling. It sounded... incriminating."
"But why?" I ask the question that's been haunting me all afternoon. "Why would he go to such lengths? We've been broken up for so long, and we were barely dating as is."
"Some people can't stand to see their exes happy," Sylas suggests. "Especially if they're the ones who ended things."
It makes a twisted sort of sense. Technically, I ended things, but really, it was how he treated me that I couldn't get past. Seeing me openly date someone else, especially someone like Tyler, who wasn't hiding who he was, probably felt like a slap in the face.
"I need to talk to Tyler," I say suddenly, stopping in the middle of the path.
Sylas looks concerned. "Whoa, slow down. We don't know for sure what happened with those photos."
"But if they were fake, if Ryan and Cher set him up—" I can barely form the thought through the rush of emotions. "I accused him in front of everyone. I broke up with him without even listening to his explanation."
"Even if the photos were manipulated, we don't know that Tyler is innocent," Sylas points out gently. "It's possible Ass-hat and Cher did something shady, and Tyler still cheated."
"No, Tyler wouldn't do that. Not to me." Unexpected certainty cuts through my exhaustion.
Sylas studies my face for a long moment. "You believe that?"
"I do," I realize, the truth of it sinking deep in my chest. "The Tyler I know wouldn't hurt me like that. He's... different."
Different. The word I'd thrown at him during our breakup now comes back with new meaning. Tyler is different, not just from other guys I've dated, but from what I feared he might be. He never treated me as an experiment or a secret. He was genuine, open, and caring.
And I pushed him away over something that now looks pretty fishy.
"I need to find him," my hands reach for my phone.
"Tomorrow," Sylas says firmly, placing his hand on my arm. "You're exhausted and bruised; we need to think this through. If you're going to apologize to Tyler, you should do it right."
Sylas makes sense. After everything today, I'm too wiped out for another heavy talk. But I hate the idea of waiting, of letting Tyler think I believe those awful things about him for even one more day. It feels wrong.
"First thing tomorrow," The compromise comes out tired but firm.
Sylas nods, and we call for a ride to Blake's apartment without saying much. By the time we get there, I'm so tired that I barely manage a quick shower before falling into the guest bed. My brain keeps spinning even though my body's completely worn out.
I don't remember falling asleep, but when I next open my eyes, late afternoon light is coming through the blinds. I blink, feeling confused in this strange room, until everything that happened yesterday comes flooding back to me.
Ryan. The confrontation. The police. The realization about the photos.
Tyler!
Sitting up with a jolt, I grab my phone from the bedside table, 5:47 PM. I've slept the entire day away.
"Finally awake?" Sylas asks from the doorway, a mug of coffee in his hand.
"Why didn't you wake me?" I ask, running a hand through my messy hair.
"You needed the rest," he says simply, handing me the coffee. "Besides, campus security called. They want us to come back in on Monday to finish some paperwork. Ryan's been suspended pending a complete investigation."
"Good," taking a grateful sip of the coffee, I ask. "Did they say anything else? About the photos?"
Sylas shakes his head. "Not specifically. But they're taking the whole thing seriously. Stalking and fabricating photos to harass another student violates their misconduct policies."
Placing the mug on the nightstand, as a weight settling in my chest. "Sylas, I made a terrible mistake."
He sits on the edge of the bed, his expression sympathetic. "You were hurt and confused. Anyone would have reacted the same way to those photos."
"Not like I did," I argue, shame washing over me. "I didn't just break up with him. I humiliated him publicly. I refused even to hear his side." Tears spring unexpectedly to my eyes. "And now everyone on campus thinks he's a cheater because of me."
"Hey," Sylas says gently, "if the photos were fake, that's not your fault. You were set up, too."
"But I should have trusted him," I insist, wiping my eyes. "After everything we shared, I should have at least given him the chance to explain."
Sylas doesn't argue, which tells me he agrees more than he wants to admit. "So what are you going to do now?"
I take a deep breath, the answer crystallizing in my mind. "I'm going to fix this. I'm going to find Tyler and apologize, publicly, the same way I hurt him. And then, if he'll let me, I'm going to make it up to him for as long as it takes."
"That's going to take some serious grovelling," Sylas points out, though there's a hint of approval in his voice.
"I know," I admit. "Whatever it takes."
Reaching for my phone, I'm intent on calling Tyler right now, but Sylas puts his hand over mine. "Before you do that, there's something you should know. I checked social media while you were sleeping."
My stomach sinks. "And?"
"The fraternity is hosting its final charity car wash tomorrow. For the veterinary clinic." Sylas's lips quirk into a small smile. "Tyler will be there."
"A car wash?" The significance isn't clicking through the brain fog.
"A public event," Sylas clarifies. "Where you could, hypothetically, make a very public apology. In front of the same Greek community that witnessed your breakup."
I get it now, and I feel a tiny bit hopeful. "That would be... perfect."
"It would be dramatic," Sylas corrects with a grin. "And effective."
The idea of making a public declaration surrounded by Tyler's fraternity brothers and half the campus makes me pause. It's terrifying, but it's perfect.
"I'll need to prepare something," I say, already running through possibilities in my mind. "Something meaningful."
"Something big," Sylas agrees. "Go big or go home, right?"
For the first time in days, I feel like smiling. "It must be big. Tyler deserves nothing less."
We spend the evening tossing ideas around, talking about different ways to approach Tyler, and figuring out backup plans. What if Tyler won't talk to me? What if his frat brothers stop me from getting near him? What if he's changed his mind about me?
Each possibility is more painful to think about than the last, but I push through the fear. I have to try. I owe Tyler that much.
By the time we finally crash, worn out but ready, we've got it all figured out. Tomorrow, I'll lay everything out for everyone to see. And maybe, if I'm really lucky, Tyler will find a way to forgive me.
As I curl up in bed, I can't stop thinking about Tyler's smile, not the perfect one he shows everybody else, but that slightly crooked, open one he kept just for me. The one I want, more than anything in the world, to see again.