They worked through the rest of that problem and then started a new one. Nick walked him through that, too. By the third, he shut up and let Adam work through it alone.
“It seems so simple now.” Adam glanced up. “You’re a good teacher.”
Nick flushed at the praise, but he shrugged it off. “Do you want to do another one?”
“Sure.” Adam started writing. When he got to the end of the line, he hesitated, his pencil stopping on the paper. He kept his eyes down. “Do you remember how I told you that my parents wanted me to pretend to be straight, after I got out of the hospital?”
“Yeah.”
“It sucked. I was determined to show them just how gay I was. I started dating someone right away. It wouldn’t have mattered who it was; I needed a guy so I could show my parents that I was in a relationship. At the studio where I danced then, they rented the space once a week to a martial arts school. One of the instructors was a guy named Matthew. Cute as hell, built like he was born on steroids—you know the type.”
Adam set the pencil down and stopped there. His eyes were still on the chemistry paper. “I flirted with him,” he said. “I flirt with everyone—gay, straight, whatever, I’m not shy.”
Nick remembered. Adam had flirted with him the first night they met, before he even had a clue that Nick might be interested in boys.
“Was he straight?” Nick said.
“I thought he was. But he wasn’t. He’d ignore me when I flirted in public, but once he caught me in the back room and asked me out. I didn’t know anything about him, really, but he was hot, I was shallow, and that was that.”
That wasn’t that. Adam’s voice had gained tension, and Nick waited, listening, glad for the privacy and the dim lighting.
“He wasn’t out,” Adam said, “but he was a few years older. He had his own place, so we only went there. The first time he kissed me, he was all hesitant and tentative. I thought it was charming. When he invited me back the next night, of course I went.” He shook his head. “He kissed me again, but this time it went further—a lot further.”
Adam stopped again, his jaw clenched now.
Nick wanted to touch him, to offer some comfort. He wasn’t sure Adam would accept it. His brothers sure wouldn’t, and he wasn’t exactly rolling in experience with comforting other guys.
“So we’re in his apartment,” Adam said, his voice very low, “and he’s practically naked, and he begs me to take care of him. He’s hot and sweet and nice, and I’m into him, so I do. And we lie there for like thirty seconds, and I’m thinking I’ve finally found someone special. Instead, he tells me to get the fuck out of his apartment. I’m confused, right? Like, what the hell. But clearly I wasn’t moving fast enough, because he punched me in the stomach and slammed me into the wall beside his door.”
Nick’s breath caught. He wasn’t sure where he’d thought this story was going, but—that wasn’t it.
Adam looked up. He met Nick’s eyes and quickly looked away, ashamed. “This is insane. I can’t believe I’m telling you this. I’m sorry. I’ll shut up.”
Nick reached out and touched his cheek, bringing his face back around. Adam’s eyes closed and his breath shuddered, but he didn’t pull away.
“Don’t shut up,” Nick said softly. “Talk. Tell me.”
Adam pulled Nick’s fingers away from his face, but then he kept a death grip on his hand. “It happened too fast. He was on his knees apologizing, comforting me before I even knew what hit me. He said he snapped, that nothing like that had ever happened before. And you know what’s really insane? I believed him. I let him buy me dinner. I thought he was genuinely sorry. And when he asked me to come back the next night, I went. He was sweet, he was charming—it was fine. But a week later, the exact same thing happened.
“So here I’m dating a guy who’s beating the shit out of me, the exact thing my parents warned me about, and I couldn’t tell them because it would be one more thing to reinforce what they wanted. And the worst part is that I started to believe I deserved it. Or that it was normal. That it was something all gay relationships went through. Like aggression is just part of the package or something. Besides—what was I supposed to do? Complain that another guy was beating me up? Do you know what that sounds like?”
Nick knew exactly what that sounded like. “You’re not weak,” he said.
“Oh, I was. This went on for a long time. I never knew what would set him off. Some days he was wonderful, and I’d think it was all in my head. He would cry and tell me how he wanted so badly to be better. Other days he was . . . terrifying. I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore, and he said he’d tell everyone that I was sexually harassing him, that I was some kind of deviant, that I shouldn’t be allowed to work with kids. I loved my job. I didn’t know what to do.” Adam looked up. His eyes were shining, but he wasn’t crying. “He was smart, too. He knew how to hit where it wouldn’t show. I’d be too sore to dance, but there wouldn’t be a mark on me. I remember once I threw up blood, and I wanted to go to the hospital. He said he’d tell them I had HIV. I don’t—I’ve never—I . . . My dad would have found out, and I couldn’t—”
He broke off. His hand was tight on Nick’s. He took a long breath, steadying himself. “I couldn’t go. After that, I was scared to tell anyone anything. For three months. Then he was offered a job somewhere else, and he moved. That was it. I didn’t even solve my own problem. It just went away.”
Nick moved closer, breathing along Adam’s neck. “I’m sorry,” he said. He touched Adam’s face again. “I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago. I’ve never told anyone.” But his voice was still heavy. He brushed Nick’s hand away and started to put some distance between them. “I can’t believe I told you.”
Nick caught him with a hand against his neck, but gently, so Adam could move if he really wanted to. “I won’t hurt you.” When Adam didn’t resist, Nick stroked his thumb along his jaw and put his forehead against his temple. The waitress could probably see them, but he couldn’t make himself care, not now. “I understand now. I won’t hurt you.”
Adam shook his head and gave a choked laugh. “You asked earlier about boyfriends? None, since him. I’ll go out and have a good time, but I never go to anyone’s place. I never bring anyone back to mine.”
Nick drew back so he could look into Adam’s eyes. “Except me.”
“Except you.” Adam paused. “You know when I first knew I was going to fall for you?”
Nick shook his head.
“On the beach, when we were rescuing Quinn. That one guy was going to hit me, and you got in front of him. You took the hit. I’d never seen anyone do anything so brave in my life. Especially not for me.”
“I’m not brave,” said Nick. “Not at all.”
“You’re letting me hang all over you in a restaurant. I’d say that’s pretty brave.”
Nick smiled. “A deserted restaurant. And you’re not hanging all over me. I think you’re the brave one, putting up with all that. I’m in . . . in awe of you.” Nick felt heat crawl up his cheeks again, but he couldn’t offer anything less than honesty now. Not after that. “You’ve got your whole life together. You know what you want, and you’re even making a backup plan. I’ve got a drawer full of college letters that I’m afraid to open, and I’m living with four guys who don’t know I’m . . . ah . . .”
“Say it,” said Adam.
Nick shut his eyes and sighed. “Gay. I’m gay.”
“See? Brave.”
“I’m not—”
Adam kissed him. Gently, his mouth moving slowly against Nick’s. He pulled away before too long.
“Thanks for listening,” he said quietly.
“Thanks for telling me.”
“You boys need anything else?”
Nick started. The older waitress was there beside the table. He hadn’t heard her approach. Worse—he hadn’t felt her approach. Would she say something? He should probably start disentangling h
imself from Adam. His voice wouldn’t work and his face felt like his cheeks were going to burn clean off.
“No, thanks,” Adam said. He sounded amused.
She ripped a piece of paper from her pad and set it on the table. “You two are just the cutest ever.”
Nick froze. She didn’t care. They’d been head to head at this table, and she hadn’t batted an eye.
Adam winked at her. “Sounds like someone’s looking for a tip.”
“Here’s a tip,” she said. “Don’t flirt with old married ladies when you’ve got a sure thing in your arms.”
“Am I the sure thing in this scenario?” said Nick.
“I don’t know,” Adam said. “Are you?”
The waitress laughed and left them with the check.
“She didn’t care,” said Nick softly. “I know it’s stupid, but I thought—”
“What, that people would come out with pitchforks? Flaming torches?”
“Maybe.”
Adam kissed him on the cheek. “You’re adorable. People surprise you sometimes. Especially when you give them the chance.”
The words hit Nick hard, the way words you need to hear usually do. He held them in his head for examination later.
When they walked back to Adam’s apartment, he reached out to hold the other boy’s hand. And Nick didn’t care one bit who saw.
CHAPTER 8
Quinn stretched her leg against a tree and shivered. She slid her fingers across the face of her iPod, looking for a playlist to suit her mood. The strip mall parking lot was tempting, but off limits thanks to that dickhead Tyler. The lot looked empty under the halogen lights, but that didn’t mean anything. She’d stay right here at the edge of these woods, where she could see without being seen.
She didn’t have any transportation, so it wasn’t like she could go anywhere else. Her brother was out tonight—but her mom wasn’t.
Quinn was waiting her out. She could sneak back into the house after midnight. Her mom usually wasn’t conscious that long.
She’d hoped Nick would want to go out tonight, but he’d mentioned he was meeting Adam to “study”—sure—and Quinn didn’t want to get in the middle of that.
She wondered if he was avoiding her after that stupid, stupid kiss. She blushed now, remembering. What had she been thinking?
You were thinking that he was really your boyfriend, instead of a pretend one.
Her phone chimed. She checked it. Becca.
Please. Talk to me. I’m sorry.
Quinn rolled her eyes and shoved the phone into her bag.
A branch snapped somewhere off to her right, and she froze, her eyes searching the darkness.
Nothing. Whatever.
She found Adam’s audition song, melodic R&B with a driving beat.
Then she threw herself into the routine.
The ground was uneven here, and she had to watch out for branches, but she had sound in her ears and cold air on her skin. One of her favorite things about dance was that she could do it anywhere.
Her body was getting stronger from working with Adam, but she still had miles to go before she’d reach his level. Her turns needed more balance, and she still missed the beat in the more complicated moves. When Adam had first asked her to be his partner for his audition piece, she’d been ready to laugh it off. She had no real professional training, no expensive dance clothes or private instructors or anything to bring to the table other than raw talent. But even after he’d convinced her, she hadn’t been ready for his work ethic. His intensity.
Adam wasn’t fucking around. He wanted this scholarship.
And the stronger Quinn got, the more she realized she wanted him to get it, too. She didn’t want to let him down.
She wanted to accomplish something, for once in her life.
She spun too fast and landed hard, stumbling. Damn. She used the slider on her iPod to back the song up a bit, then launched herself into motion.
The stars whirled above her, bearing witness to her dance. She wished Nick were here to feed power into the air. She could feel it when he did that now, driving energy into the music until she couldn’t help leaping higher and moving with every beat. She tried to find that same energy now, without him, but the woods were empty, the wind’s only power the ability to keep her cold.
Wham. Something slammed into her, and the music died instantly. Quinn hit the ground before she realized she was falling.
Then the earbuds were yanked free of her ears, something snapped at her waistband, and footsteps were tearing away through the underbrush.
Wtf?
Then she got it.
“Come back here!” she screamed, running after the thief. She’d saved every penny for months to buy that iPod. “Stop! Stop!”
Her assailant had a pretty good head start. This had to be a guy, from the size and the way he moved. He bolted into the street without looking. Quinn followed.
A horn blared and she stumbled. Headlights filled her eyes, tires screeched, but the impact never came. Quinn made it to the curb and kept running, tearing across the parking lot of the strip mall.
“Thief!” she shouted. “Somebody stop him!”
Somebody. Like there was anyone out here.
He was getting away, gaining ground. The farthest part of the strip mall was pitch-black now, dark store fronts featuring a pediatric dentist’s office and an eyewear shop. Beyond that, more woods. If he made it past the edge of the shops and into the trees, she’d never catch him.
“Stop, you asshole!”
Oh, who was she kidding? She was never going to catch this guy. He was twenty feet from the curb leading to the woods. She was at least fifty and her lungs were burning.
But then, as he neared the corner, a figure stepped out of the shadowed walkway and knocked him flat. Just pow! a solid strike and the thief hit the ground. Flat on his back. She could hear him moaning from here.
“Yeah!” Quinn cried. Mr. Big Fists was getting a kiss for this. With tongue.
But then her savior pulled out a gun. He pointed it at the thief and cocked the hammer.
Quinn skidded to a stop. “Holy shit.”
A step forward brought the gunman into the light. Short blond hair, fierce expression. Tyler.
The guy on the ground was scrambling back. “You’re crazy, man! It’s a frigging iPod! You’re—”
“Shut up.” Tyler held a lit cigarette in his free hand. He put it to his lips and inhaled, but he didn’t lower the weapon. “Give it back to her.”
The thief—thin and filthy and not much older than she was—shoved her iPod across the concrete. He’d probably scraped the crap out of the case.
She didn’t move to take it. She couldn’t take her eyes off that gun. Her breathing felt too quick.
She should be running now, right? Saying thank you? What the hell was happening here?
Tyler jerked his head toward the road. “Get out of here, punk.” When the thief didn’t move fast enough, Tyler made a threatening move. The kid fought for his footing and ran, his feet scraping pavement.
Quinn kind of wished she could swipe the iPod and tiptoe away.
Tyler slid the gun into a holster at the small of his back and took a long drag from his cigarette. “You going to take that or what?”
Her iPod was on the ground right in front of his boots, and Quinn really didn’t want to get that close. She remembered the burning pain of his palm on her forearm. She remembered Nick telling her that Tyler had roughed up Becca.
Then again, Becca sure hadn’t thought he was scary enough to warrant telling Quinn about it.
“Come on,” said Tyler, a dark smile on his lips. “If you don’t have music, I can’t enjoy the free show anymore.”
“What does that mean?”
His eyes flicked at the woods across the street.
Screw him. She turned her back and started walking. “Go to hell.”
“I think maybe a thank-you is in order.”
“I think
maybe a fuck you is in—”
“Would you take the stupid iPod?”
She whirled, hearing him right behind her. He was closer than she was ready for, and her breath rushed out of her chest.
In his hand was her beat-up iPod.
She hesitated, then took it. She wanted to fling it at him, but pride wilted in the face of practicality. It would take her forever to gather enough money to get another one. The case was scratched but unbroken, and the screen lit up when she pressed the button.
He didn’t move back, and she finally had to, lest he think she liked being this close to him.
Tyler took another draw on his cigarette. The glow lit his cheeks and turned his eyes haunting. “Scared of me, baby girl?”
“Are you aware you sound like a douche bag?”
He laughed, blowing smoke through his nose. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
“None of your business. Have another cigarette?”
His eyebrows went up. “You want one?”
No. She didn’t. She’d only ever smoked once. But she had nowhere else to go and nothing else to do and she needed something to do with her hands before they started shaking.
She gave Tyler a look. “Yeah. You have one or not?”
He pulled a pack from his back pocket and shook one free. “Do you have a lighter?”
“No. Don’t you?”
He gave her half a smile, then put the new cigarette to his lips. He inhaled slowly, and after a moment the end glowed red and burned. A fresh burst of nicotine hit the air. Then he pulled it out of his mouth and held it out to her.
Quinn stared despite herself. “Gross.”
And somehow a little sexy, but she’d put his gun to her head before admitting that.
He cocked an eyebrow. “You were sitting next to a Dumpster last night, and now you’re afraid of a little spit. Jesus. You want it or not?”
His voice was full of derision, but challenge, too. Scared of me, baby girl?
She took the cigarette out of his hand and put it to her lips. For a second she was worried she’d do the moronic thing and explode with coughing, but she inhaled slowly, letting the warmth travel into her lungs. She expected it to taste nasty, but it didn’t.