5' 8"-5' 9"
"It must be Ethan!" Noah said eagerly when he heard a knock on the door. He almost jumped to his feet to let in the much-anticipated guest, but Andrea cut off his dramatic impulse with a quick, gentle press of her hands to his shoulders. She firmly guided him back down onto the chair, mumbling something under her breath about a lovesick idiot. Noah didn't catch the words and wouldn't have cared if he had. His brain was already focused on the person standing just outside that door. He was nervous and excited at the same time. Last night, it had taken serious effort to calm the wild rhythm of his heart even after he and Ethan had gone their separate ways. Once back in the apartment, Noah just sat on the floor in the hallway for twenty minutes, his back against the door, face buried in his knees. He might've stayed like that longer if Peanut hadn't come over and started rubbing against his legs, demanding dinner.
"You have no idea what your owner just did," Noah told the cat. In response, Peanut flopped over and started rolling onto his back, trying to fetch Noah's shoes with his paws. If the orange cat was in a playful mood, he liked chewing on laces. Ethan had already experienced that when Peanut had once gotten a little too playful with his sneakers too.
Ethan…
After taking off his shoes and feeding the cats, Noah jumped in the shower, hoping the water would do something to calm his overexcited nerves. However, even the cold shower turned out to be completely useless in this situation.
"I actually did it," kept spinning in his head. "I did it, and I liked it… I did it, and he liked it!!!"
Maybe it wasn't a big deal after all. But to Noah, it was huge. He wanted to share that moment with someone. But who? Outside of Ethan, he didn't exactly have a long list of people to spill this kind of thing to. His mom? That was a hard no. It was even scary to imagine that kind of a possible dialogue.
"Mom, you won't believe what happened today!"
"What is it, honey?"
"I gave my boyfriend a blowjob!"
"…Sweet Jesus."
Yeah. His mom could absolutely live without that information. That left Andrea, Scott, and Nicole. Nicole? It wasn't worth it. She'd probably see the message in two, maybe three days, then send back a "Wow, congrats!"—and that'd be the end of it. It didn't provide the emotional release he sought. Andrea and Scott? They'd definitely give him the reaction he wanted, but it'd be followed by endless teasing. And Noah wasn't sure he was ready for that. More importantly, was Ethan? Even without sharing any details about what was going on between him and Thomson, the jokes from their friends were already too much sometimes. One conversation with Andrea on the way home was more than enough…
Andrea Long: "Where the hell are you two?! I wanted to go outside to look for you but got scared to find out you were doing something I wasn't supposed to see."
Noah Morgan: "Everything's fine. I just got overwhelmed. Ethan's driving me home. Sorry I didn't say anything sooner."
Andrea Long: "Oh… I saw Thomson's face during our performance. ;) You're telling me you just left? Hahaha."
Noah Morgan: "Don't start making stuff up!"
Andrea Long: "You're such a bad liar!"
Noah Morgan: "I'm not lying!"
Andrea Long: "Okay, okay. One last question from Mama Andrea: Do you use protection?"
Noah Morgan: "WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL?!"
Yeah… maybe telling his friends wasn't the best idea right now, so Noah had to just bite his lip, face buried in a pillow, trying to breathe through the waves of emotion hitting him in pulses.
Around midnight, Ethan texted. Not that it relieved Morgan. If anything, it made things worse…
Ethan Thomson: "Are you okay?"
Noah Morgan: "Totally!"
Noah Morgan: "Crap, I didn't mean to use an exclamation mark."
Noah Morgan: "Not that I'm not totally fine."
Noah Morgan: "I just meant…"
Noah Morgan: "I don't know what I meant. :("
Noah Morgan: "Ugh, sorry, I didn't mean to blow up your phone!"
Noah Morgan: "How have you been?"
Noah Morgan: "God, what a dumb question. We literally saw each other a couple of hours ago…"
Ethan Thomson: "Morgan…"
Noah Morgan: "How are you right now? That's what I meant! How's your night going?"
Noah Morgan: "I said something dumb again."
Ethan Thomson: "Are you drunk?"
Noah Morgan: "What? No! I'm sober! Why would you think I'm drunk?!"
Ethan Thomson: "Just checking."
Noah Morgan: "I'm sober!"
Ethan Thomson: "Got it."
Noah Morgan: "And I'm fine."
Ethan Thomson: "Okay."
Noah Morgan: "Are you fine?"
Ethan Thomson: "Yeah."
Noah Morgan: "God, why didn't I just say 'yeah'? You should teach a class on how to give short, straight answers. You're really good at it."
Ethan Thomson: "Is it the only thing I'm good at?"
It was only one question, but…
Noah groaned through clenched teeth. Honestly, Ethan didn't just need to teach short replies; he could run a whole masterclass on how to constantly keep your partner in a near-heart-attack state. One damn question, and Morgan, who'd finally started to calm down, was blushing all over again, whining into his pillow and feeling the heatwave coming through his body.
No, Ethan. This is not the only thing you're good at.
"Noah!" Andrea's voice snapped Morgan out of the memory fog. "I told you to stop moving! Quit turning your head toward the hallway. I promise, Scott can handle the door," she muttered, dabbing at his face with the brush. "You can handle it, right?" she asked, not even looking at him. Scott let out a sigh so deep it was like someone had just asked him to haul a couch up to the hundredth floor without an elevator. Still, he dragged himself toward the door.
"Oh, fuck…" came the voice on the other side. "With that mustache, you look like a damn pedophile."
It was Ethan!
"And you look like a fifth grader," Scott shot back without missing a beat.
"A fifth grader with a lacrosse stick. The kind that could crush a skull." Ethan added calmly. There was a smile in his voice.
"Yeah? Doesn't look like much. Are you sure that stick won't snap in half if someone touches it?"
"Maybe it will. But only after half the handle's already jammed up your ass."
"Gentlemen Pedophile and Fifth Grader, are we interrupting you? Should Noah and I give you a minute to passionately explore your feelings for each other?" Andrea chimed in with a smirk. She'd spent the better part of an hour on Noah's makeup, and if anything got messed up last minute, it could turn out to be a catastrophe.
"Generous offer, but I think I'll pass," Thomson said as he stepped further into the apartment. Noah stayed still, just like Andrea had asked, so he had to wait until Ethan came into view before saying anything.
"Hey," Noah waved, trying really hard not to grin at the sight of Thomson so Andrea could finish working on his face. He failed. The smile broke through anyway.
"Noah!" Andrea groaned and reached for her wet wipes.
"Hey," Ethan nodded back. While Andrea was digging through her bag, he pulled his mask down a little, leaned in, and gave Noah a quick hello kiss.
"Step away from my masterpiece!" Andrea hissed. Thomson gave her a cunning look and backed up a few steps from her and Morgan.
"Mind if I leave my stuff here?" he asked, nodding toward the duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
"Of course not!" Noah nodded, still fighting the grin and still losing. Andrea's muttered cursing grew more and more annoyed in the background.
Ethan dropped the bag by the bed. His eyes landed for a moment on the painting covered in white fabric, hiding it from view, but he didn't say anything. Noah had already called him that morning to wish him a happy birthday. He was awake, still in bed, searching for his number. Judging by how sleepy Thomson sounded, Noah had clearly woken him up, but Ethan didn't seem to mind. Now, though, Noah felt that same rush to wish him happy birthday and couldn't fight it.
"Happy birthday, Ethan," he breathed out, glowing like it was his birthday, not Thomson's.
"Thanks," Ethan said with a small smile, stepping in closer to look at Noah over Andrea's shoulder.
"Oh yeah! Happy hatch day! So how old are you now, kid?" Came Scott's sarcastic voice from across the room.
"Twenty-three, sir. Am I too old for you, maybe? Or is it my height throwing you off? If that's the case, do me a favor: don't jerk off thinking about me in the next bush you hide."
"Gross!" Scott's voice rang out from the other side of the room.
"Happy birthday!" Andrea chimed in too. "I wonder what Noah's got planned for your gift…" she added, a mischievous smile spreading across her face.
"What is it?" Ethan asked, picking up on her tone that sounded like she knew something. But she didn't. Noah decided his gift was too personal to show before the birthday boy saw it himself. If Thomson wanted to share it later, he could decide it on his own.
"That's it, I have no idea," Andrea shrugged. "He's been tight as a clam," she added, nodding toward Noah. "He won't show us a damn thing!"
"I wish I could at least have a little peek," Scott muttered, reaching playfully toward the covered painting.
"Hands on the table," Ethan warned, smoothly spinning the black-and-orange lacrosse stick in his hands like he'd been doing it for years. Scott pulled back immediately, clutching his chest to show that he was genuinely kidding.
No offense to Thomson, but in the white-and-orange uniform with the big "03" and "Palmetto" stamped across the chest, he really did look a bit like a high school kid. Still, credit where credit's due: the guy had gone all in on the costume. T-shirt with a black short-sleeved turtleneck layered underneath. Shorts. Black knee-high athletic socks. Cleats. Sports gloves. The aforementioned lacrosse stick. And black compression bands wrapped around his arms from wrist to elbow. The only thing Ethan added on his own was a black mask covering the lower half of his face. But even that had a clever touch: in the upper left corner, there was a tiny fox paw print, probably the logo of the fictional sports team from the book.
"You look fucking incredible, Morgan," Ethan said flatly, catching Noah watching him.
"So do you," Noah answered quickly and honestly. The uniform wasn't hanging off Ethan like some cheap party store costume. It fit. It really did. Like it had been tailored just for him.
"Do I look like I actually turned twenty-three?" Thomson muttered with dry amusement, glancing at himself in Andrea's compact mirror. He already knew the answer.
You look more like eighteen, if we're being honest… But damn, the view from behind's insane. And the front's not disappointing either.
Ethan usually stuck to oversized clothes. This uniform, though, left no opportunity to hide anything. Meaning, everything was on display.
"Well…" Noah tried to weigh his options. Should he go with the truth or shameless flattery?
"Got it," Ethan sighed, brushing a very relaxed Peanut off the nearest chair and sitting down in his place. He didn't last even a minute before Fluffy jumped up onto his lap. The black cat against the orange-and-white uniform looked like a future disaster. Fluffy was clearly out for revenge for Peanut, who had handled the whole situation just fine by moving to the bed and falling asleep right in the middle of it. Ethan froze under the feline stare. Normally, only one of the cats would end up in a guest's lap, and whoever it was would immediately get scratched behind the ears or stroked into a purring puddle. But Thomson, for some reason, would just freeze every time. He never pushed the cats off, but he didn't touch them either. Maybe that's exactly why Fluffy, who usually kept his distance from strangers, had started coming over to Ethan more and more. The black cat wasn't in need of affection. So Ethan was perfect for him, since he let him sit on his lap and get warm with no excessive touching.
"Ethan, what if you get cold?" Noah asked, concerned. It was October thirty-first. California heat was long gone, replaced by sharp wind and a temperature that practically begged for a warm sweater and maybe even a windbreaker on top. Not that anyone remembered that on Halloween. Nobody wanted to cover their costume with a jacket, and then half the city usually ended up sick two days later.
"I'll be fine. I brought this too." Ethan unzipped his duffel bag and pulled out a hoodie in matching team colors, with the same logos and stripes. He hadn't put it on earlier because the car had worked just fine as a heater.
"What about those bare legs, sweetheart?" Scott teased.
"My legs are none of your business, old man," Ethan shot back as he pulled the hoodie over his head. Honestly, being that good-looking should be illegal!
"Alright, the face is done. Chin up, time to do your neck!" Andrea announced triumphantly, totally immersed in Noah's transformation.
She and Scott had barged into Noah's apartment earlier that afternoon. Andrea figured it'd be easier if everyone got ready in one place, and since Noah was the only one living alone, his place was perfect. She'd also made it clear she was sick of never having the energy to get herself ready when she was busy doing everyone else's makeup or hair. So this time, she insisted on being the first to get ready. Which meant Noah didn't get his makeup by Andrea herself, but by The Countess Elizabeth from Season Five of American Horror Story. And she nailed it. Her look was just as stunning as the original. White dress, straightened and styled hair, deep red lips: she looked amazing. The blood streaks she painted on her neck only took her a couple of minutes. Nothing like the hour-long effort she put into Noah's makeup. Scott, of course, didn't want to be left out and went as James Patrick March, the Countess's lover. And no matter what Ethan might say, the fake mustache suited Scott way more than anyone expected. Somehow, the eternally grumpy, jittery guy had transformed into a young, sharp-looking gentleman. Together, he and Andrea, at least in Noah's humble opinion, were the best-looking couple of the night.
While Andrea painted Noah's face with surgical precision, Ethan sat nearby, absently rocking his chair, eyes locked on the black puffball curled up in his lap. Scott, meanwhile, kept trying and failing, as always, to film some TikToks.
"And… done!" Andrea announced, leaning back to admire her work on Noah.
"Wow, you really nailed the Tate Langdon look!" Scott praised her, clearly impressed.
Ethan didn't say anything. He just gave Noah one of those looks: the kind that made your pulse spike into dangerous territory.
'Chill,' Morgan told himself. 'Keep it together. We've got the whole night ahead. And who knows how it's going to end…'
5' 3"
Ethan wasn't the least bit surprised when Andrea announced that he'd be the one driving everyone to the party.
"You don't drink! It's super convenient," she chirped. She conveniently left out the fact that she didn't drink either, but Ethan didn't care about it. He wasn't about to complain, as long as Noah was coming with him. And he was with him, looking absolutely lethal in full costume, like he might actually set Ethan on fire just by being near him. All Thomson wanted was to pull Noah into him and run his tongue along those lips painted black with makeup. But Andrea definitely wouldn't have thanked him for that. Neither would've Noah, who'd spent days prepping for tonight. So Ethan kept it together, sneaking glances when he could, picturing all the ways he could pin Noah against the nearest halfway-flat surface and get his hands under that damn belt. Thank God Andrea and Scott were riding with them. If they hadn't been, Ethan probably would've lost control and ruined Noah's whole look before anyone else got to see it.
Ethan parked the car at the campus lot. The Halloween party was being held in one of the university's event buildings, which is usually reserved for everything from sports tournaments to major conferences. Tonight, though, it looked more like some haunted high school dance. There were punch bowls full of "blood," glowing Halloween decorations, jack-o'-lanterns everywhere with creepy carved faces, and tons of people. Some groups had already knocked back enough booze to go throwing the toilet paper or eggs at the neighbors' houses, thinking it was worth the trouble. Others were way more into finding a dark corner and making out with someone they'd just met. On the one night the dead were said to walk among the living, the campus had never felt more alive.
Andrea, Scott, Ethan, and Noah were just approaching the main entrance when a blood-curdling scream cut through the air to their left. Andrea and Scott both screamed, too. Noah flinched. Ethan instinctively gripped his lacrosse stick tighter and raised the plastic head like a shield in front of Noah. However, it turned out to be a false alarm. The scream was coming from a group of familiar girls loitering by the entrance, clearly waiting for Thomson. They were all dressed in the same uniform as the fictional sports team Ethan's character belonged to.
"Perfect!" one of the fangirls squealed, rushing up to Thomson and reaching for his arm. Ethan stepped back and raised his lacrosse stick between them like a warning.
"Hands off," he said firmly.
"Aaaaah!!!" came another wave of excited screeching. "He's so Andrew!"
"He's just the type!"
"I can't imagine a better match for the role!"
"Ughhh, I just wish Neil were here too…"
"My Neil's always with me," Ethan said coolly and, without missing a beat, slipped an arm around Noah's waist, pulling him closer. If there hadn't been so much makeup on his face, everyone would've seen Morgan flush crimson on the spot. Even so, the look on his face made it crystal clear: he was deeply flustered. He definitely wasn't used to having their relationship broadcast like that.
The girls didn't seem to mind. Instead of arguing, they all started squealing again.
"Oh my god, crossover energy!" one of them burst out. "Andrew and Tate? I wonder if anyone's written that yet…" They dove into their phones, finally giving Ethan a breather from the emotional chaos.
"What are they doing?" Morgan asked, puzzled.
"Probably searching for Andrew/Tate fanfics," Ethan replied flatly.
"But they're from totally different fandoms."
"So?"
"Oh, I found one!" one of the girls shouted triumphantly.
"See?" Ethan muttered, rolling his eyes.
"You really look that much like the guy?" It seemed like he actually enjoyed whispering with him. And he surely didn't plan on stepping away from Thomson.
"Why are you asking me?" Ethan said, pulling him in even closer. The temperature had dropped sharply by nightfall, and Noah radiated warmth and was eager to share.
"Didn't you say you wanted to read the books?"
"I did."
"So? Do you?"
"Hmm… there's a resemblance, sure," Ethan admitted, a little reluctant. "But there's one major difference between us. He's a victim of circumstance. The shit I went through, on the contrary, is the result of my choices only."
Noah's expression flickered with confusion, but he decided to let go of these questions. It turned out to be practically impossible once they were suddenly surrounded by girls waving their phones around. Flashlights popped from every direction.
'Fucking hell, I'm a damn movie star now,' Ethan thought bitterly, stepping away from Noah. The last thing he wanted was for Morgan to get caught up in this paparazzi crap. He'd take that bullet solo. Requests started flying: "Can you turn sideways?" "Hold the stick out, please!" "Now lean back a little!" Fuck. This. Was. Annoying.
"Could you take the mask off?" someone asked.
"I could not."
"Just for a second…" One of the girls reached toward his face. He was already gearing up to dodge another grab, but Morgan was faster.
"Back the fuck off," Noah snapped, swatting her hand away, not hard, but with zero hesitation. Ethan stared at Noah like he'd just witnessed a miracle. The girl froze, pulling her hand back, looking both startled and wounded. She bit her lower lip. Ethan braced for a public meltdown, but the whole thing took an unexpected turn.
"He did say not to touch him," one of the other girls muttered. "Why would you act like that?"
"S-sorry," the guilty one mumbled. "I just got caught up in the moment…"
"Keep your moments to yourself! He's doing us a huge favor just by being here."
"Exactly! Show some respect! Look how much effort he put into that costume! There's a rule: 'Don't touch a cosplayer unless they say it's okay.' And it applies to everyone!"
They all started chiming in, suddenly rallying to Ethan's defense, but he wasn't paying attention to them anymore. He was far more impressed by irritated Noah.
"Thank you, my gallant knight," Ethan murmured with a small smile. The sarcasm slipped in by habit, since Ethan wasn't used to anyone sticking up for him unless it was his dad or Duncan. Not that he couldn't have handled this himself, of course. But Noah, normally the peacekeeper, jumping in like that? It was unexpectedly endearing. It was a shame he didn't defend himself the same way.
"Oh, come on," Morgan muttered, but the back of his neck, where there was no makeup, had gone bright red.
Once the rules were firmly laid down, the girls resumed their photoshoot. Ethan posed without enthusiasm, quietly thankful for the mask hiding just how pissed off he actually was. The torture continued for nearly half an hour. First there were solo pics with each girl, then a group shot taken by Noah. After that, the thank-yous poured in loud and dramatic, but Ethan was already heading toward the party entrance, ignoring them all. All he wanted now was to get away from the spotlight.
"And thanks for the casual pics of Andrew, too!" someone called out just as Noah and Ethan stepped inside the building.
"Andrew in casual mode?" Noah repeated, slinging the fake shotgun over his shoulder. He looked unbelievably hot doing it. Why the hell had they even come to this party? So Ethan could spend the whole night drooling over Morgan without being able to lay a finger on him? The main birthday gift was now 'look but do not touch.' That was the dumbest idea! He should've been stripping all that damn clothing off Noah by now, smearing the makeup across his face, and then…
Easy, Ethan. Chill out.
"Yeah, I sent the girl I hit a few casual pics of me," Ethan explained. "I figured it was fair payment for my poor behavior towards her."
"And why didn't you tell me about this payment?"
"Was I supposed to?"
"Uh…duh!" Morgan explained. "What kind of photos are we talking about?"
"Nudes, obviously. Now she's seen my dick from every angle. One time she even asked me to write her name on it. But I'm small. And so's my dick. So it only fit two letters."
"Ethan!"
"Just kidding," Ethan chuckled under his breath. "It was three."
"ETHAN!"
"Jesus, Morgan. They were just pictures. And no, I wasn't naked in them. You've got zero reason to be jealous, so quit freaking out."
"I'll freak out if I damn well want to," Noah snapped, paying the entry fee for both of them and storming off toward the makeshift buffet. Technically, alcohol was banned, but of course, that didn't stop anyone from sneaking it in. One sniff and Morgan found the right punch bowl, knocking back his first cup in one go. Someone needed to keep an eye on him. Ethan had no intention of ending this birthday with Morgan getting his stomach pumped in some alley.
"Would it help if I just showed you the messages?" Ethan sighed, still not totally sure how you were supposed to act when someone was actually jealous over you. No one had ever been jealous over him. NO ONE! He was usually the jealous one.
"You guys were texting too?!" Oh great, Ethan was digging his own grave now? So this is what being in a relationship felt like? Fascinating.
Well, actually, it was difficult to call that 'texting.' All Ethan did was send her photos, and in return she spammed him with a billion heart-eyes emojis. Which he never even answered."
"There were some messages. I'll show you," Ethan said, pulling out his phone. Just then, a notification popped up. It was Duncan's answer to the request he sent earlier. Ethan forced himself to swipe it away and opened the TalkPanik chat instead.
"Ethan, are you out of your mind? I'm not reading your messages! That's humiliating!" Noah bristled. Seriously?
"Then what do you want me to do so you stop being mad?" Thomson was completely lost now. Seriously, what was he supposed to do in such a situation?
"Too late!" Noah snapped, grabbing a second cup of punch and downing it like it was water. The stench of booze hit from three feet away.
"Easy with the alcohol."
"I'll do whatever the hell I want," Noah muttered, clearly offended.
"Morgan," Ethan said, frowning. "Do you really want to pick a fight with me on my birthday?" It was a low blow, but Ethan didn't mind using it. Noah wilted immediately.
"Sorry."
"Don't waste your energy on this crap."
"It just pisses me off that someone else has your photos besides me."
"You're such a tyrant," Ethan said with a half-smile. Noah still looked grumpy, but not so much.
"I'll make it up to you once we're back at your place," Ethan promised, giving him a look.
"How?"
"No spoilers," Ethan teased, angling his phone away just enough that Noah couldn't peek, even by accident. His patience lasted about sixty seconds before he gave in and opened Duncan's reply. His eyes scanned the message quickly, and what he saw was exactly what he'd hoped for. Alright then… everything he needed was in front of him now. The suspicions were stacking up fast. Still no hard proof, but his gut was screaming that he was on the right track. He'd have to dig deeper on his own. Okay, so… what if he did get caught? What would they charge him with? Hacking? Attempted theft? He needed an exit strategy and good timing if he was going to pull this off and walk away clean. Sure, his dad could probably bail him out. Worst case, he'd end up with community service. But still. Did he really want to go down that road, and how would it feel to look his father in the eye afterward? Or trying to get into law school with that on his record? It was way too risky.
"Is she texting you again?" Noah asked, misreading Ethan's intense focus on his phone.
"No. This has nothing to do with her," Ethan sighed, slipping his phone into the pocket of his shorts. "Relax, Morgan. I'm all yours. With all my shit and stuff," he added with a crooked smile. He expected Morgan to get confused like usual, but the look on Noah's face said more like, 'Exactly. Mine. Don't forget it.'
That was hot.
"Let's keep it that way," Morgan muttered under his breath, still working his way through the punch.
A local band had climbed up onto the makeshift stage. After they said a few Halloween-themed one-liners, the vocalist began to sing Marilyn Manson's 'This Is Halloween.' The place was packed, and the crowd made it hard for Ethan to breathe. The already dim lighting dropped even lower. The spooky party was in full swing now. Ethan caught glimpses of Andrea and Scott weaving through the sea of costumed students. They'd split off back when that group of fans rushed Ethan. Judging by how easily Andrea moved through the crowd, she knew at least half the people here. She'd probably be partying till sunrise. Morgan was quiet. His cup of punch was now occasionally accompanied by a witch-finger cookie, a bat-themed cupcake, or a tiny pumpkin-shaped candy. Ethan was just about to ask if he was bored and ready to head home when something in the crowd caught his eye: a tall, familiar silhouette.
Audrey was dressed up as Wednesday Addams. Judging by the outfit, it was a porn version of the character. Her two braids bounced with every move she made on the dance floor. The black dress had the iconic white collar and long sleeves, but not nearly enough fabric to cover what it was supposed to. Lacy thigh-high stockings peeked out from under the way-too-short skirt. That didn't bother Ethan. Audrey could wear whatever she wanted. What did bother him was the guy dancing with her. That smug, familiar face appeared right next to Audrey's, and in the next second, he grabbed her by the hips and kissed her like he owned her. Ethan hated him instantly. Sure, objectively, the guy was attractive. But no amount of looks changed the fact that he was a dealer.
"Don't go anywhere, okay? I'll be right back," Ethan told Noah without waiting for a response and stepped into the crowd. His fingers clenched around the shaft of the lacrosse stick so tightly his palm itched. He reached Audrey and her sketchy dance partner just as the guy tried to pull her into another drunken spin. Ethan shoved him back with a light but solid push to the chest.
"You again?" the guy said, recognizing him instantly. He was dressed in some lazy Dracula getup: there were only fangs and a cape thrown over a sports jersey and jeans. Apparently, that was enough to impress Audrey, judging by the spark in her eyes.
"Yeah, it's me again," Ethan said coldly, rotating the lacrosse stick in his hands. "Don't touch my sister."
"I think she can decide what she wants and where she wants to be touched."
What an obnoxious jerk.
Audrey didn't notice the fight nearby; she was way too drunk for that. Completely oblivious to Ethan's arrival, she kept dancing like a maniac, caught up in the music. At one point, she bumped into a girl dressed as Catwoman. The crowd went wild as the two of them started dancing together, grabbing at each other without shame, hands everywhere they could reach. It all ended in a full-on makeout session. Cheers erupted around them.
"Because of you…" The dealer moved quicker than Ethan expected. He barely dodged the punch, ducking just in time. "...I missed the best part!" The guy growled, clearly referring to the kiss. What even was their relationship? How far had it gone? And did it matter? Ethan could overlook the guy's idiotic behavior and probably his trash personality if he made Audrey happy. But the way he made money? Ethan couldn't let it slide. The punch didn't land, but the lacrosse stick sure as hell did. Ethan swung hard and drove it into the guy's stomach. He doubled over instantly, gasping for air.
"Son of a bitch!" he choked out, dropping to his knees. No one around them even blinked. Between the booze, the dim lighting, and general party apathy, Ethan had the perfect cover.
"Get lost."
"Screw you!"
That answer was wrong. Ethan spun the stick again and cracked him across the jaw. The guy went down hard, flat on his back. Blood welled up from his split lip.
"You think I won't make you pay for this?" The dealer hissed, crawling backward.
"Oh, I want you to," Ethan said coldly, tapping the stick against the floor. "Go ahead, call the cops. I'll confess to assault right here, right now."
The guy winced. Of course he wouldn't do that. No way he'd risk getting searched with all the illegal stuff hidden under his cape.
"Or should I call them?" Ethan offered, taking a step closer. "I'll even turn myself in, with a full statement and everything."
"We'll see how tough you are when I come for you, you junkie little whore," the guy spat, shakily getting to his feet. He was bracing for another hit. It didn't come. Ethan was trying to be as patient as he could.
"Can't wait," he said, slowly raising the stick again. Damn, this thing was handy!
The dealer flinched and backed toward the exit. He said something else on the way out, but the music was too loud to make out what he was saying. Ethan didn't move until the guy disappeared through the door. He knew he wouldn't get far. That whole scene wasn't about the fight. It was his way of showing that he was there and he was watching. And God forbid if he touched his sister again, the punishment would backfire instantly.
Still buzzing with adrenaline, Ethan turned and headed back toward the refreshment table.
… But Noah was gone.