Page 34 of Slick & Spooky
It’s so casual when he says it. I know he must think being unapologetic is the easiest thing in the world and I envy that about him. I spent years learning how to fold myself small enough to fit inside other people’s comfort zones.
Be strong. Be quiet. Be tough.
Control everything.
Tyler doesn’t do any of that. He walks in, laughs too loud, loves too hard, and tears the world apart just by existing. I used to think strength meant never letting anyone see the cracks. Turns out, he’s stronger for never pretending he doesn’t have any.
The frat took news of our relationship worse than we expected. One gay guy was fine. Easier to tolerate when he was already treated like some golden boy.
But two? Including the house president? And they’re in a relationship?
Suddenly it’s the end of the goddamn brotherhood.
I didn’t want to take this path. I don’t do complicated. Especially not in my position. But Tyler Finley doesn’t exactly leave room for negotiation. You don’t argue with him. You just follow the current and pretend it’s your choice.
That’s the Finley way.
For all the shit I give him about control, I know he never really had any. How do you exist as the oldest son of a familyeveryone in town worships and watches in equal measure? Every move he makes gets narrated back to him before he’s even done it.
Around here, privacy’s a myth and gossip’s a sport.
The rest of us get to make mistakes. He gets headlines.
I talk like I’m the one protecting him, but half the time, I think he’s the only one who ever learned how to survive.
That’s why when he said the brotherhood would get over it, I trusted his judgment.
He was right. Eventually, they came around. Or maybe they just got tired of pretending it mattered. That tends to happen when the season changes and people need new things to whisper about.
Still, I doubt it was pure acceptance. I’d wager his father making a donation large enough to fund an entire spring party had something to do with it. The kind of gesture that smooths egos and buys forgiveness faster than any apology.
The check probably hit the account before the gossip had time to cool.
That’s the other thing about Tyler. He knows the world runs on performance, and he’s good at giving people a show. A little charm, a little money, and everyone starts calling it progress instead of tolerance.
Maybe that is progress, in its own twisted way.
“Take your shirt off,” he demands.
I look up at him hovering over me, hands stained red, eyes shining like he’s about to perform open-heart surgery.
“I don’t want to stain it,” he adds quickly, like that makes the order more reasonable.
“It’s supposed to actually be cold tonight,” I say.
“The low sixties is not cold.”
“It’s too chilly for me to be shirtless and covered in wet, sticky fake blood.”
He scoffs. “For such a big, tough, tattoo-covered man, you’re so fucking dramatic. Take your shirt off.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You’re really leaning into the bossy thing tonight.”
He smirks, grabbing the edge of my shirt anyway. “And you’re really leaning into the defiant thing.”
His fingers brush my stomach, sticky and cool. I want to roll my eyes, but the truth is, it’s easier to let him win. It always is.
I sigh. “You’re insufferable.”