reflected off his hair and eyes, sparking with gold.
“Relax,” he said softly.
Nick let out a breath. “Sorry.”
Adam’s smile turned a little wicked. “We’re having coffee there, not getting naked.”
Nick nearly jumped the curb pulling into the parking lot. Adam laughed.
Even this late at night, the Starbucks was packed, and they moved to the back of the line. Nick worried that Adam would hang close or drop quasi-sexual banter, but he kept his distance, and his conversation barely strayed from the mundane. Questions about school, about Quinn, about the weather they were having.
Worse, now that Adam was doing what Nick thought he wanted—what he thought he needed, this safe distance—Nick found himself missing the charged teasing, the blushing, the warmth of Adam’s breath on his neck when he whispered things about later.
The air in the restaurant changed, enough that Nick froze. It didn’t feel threatening, just watchful. He looked around, shuffling forward when the person in front of him moved ahead to order.
Danger? he thought, seeking answers from the air.
But the air only carried the scents of ground coffee. Nick took a second look, trying to be discreet about it.
Silver was in prison. The middle school Elementals had been convinced to lie low. Calla was missing, but this didn’t feel like a Fire Elemental.
Then the sensation was gone, so subtly that Nick wondered if he’d really felt it at all.
The barista gave him a bright smile when they made it to the counter. “One of the Merrick twins,” she said. “Which one are you?”
Nick blinked, surprised, then realized he knew her from school. Cute, with almond-shaped eyes, carefully highlighted hair, and clothes just tight enough to get a second glance from most guys. Courtney or Carrie or something.
Nick felt himself sliding into the familiar, doing what was expected. He had to, or people might talk. He returned her flirtatious smile and gave her their typical twin line. “Does it matter?”
She gave him a mock pout and probably thought she looked sexy. It did absolutely nothing for him. “What’s going in your cup?” she said.
He met her eyes and gave it right back. “Surprise me.”
“Something hot and sweet coming right up.”
“Make the same for me, sugar,” said Adam.
While she smiled and grabbed a second cup, Adam leaned close enough to whisper to Nick. “I can play this game, too.”
He was teasing, but Nick felt the undercurrent of . . . something else. Admonishment? Sadness? Disappointment? All three? Before he could puzzle it out, Adam drew back and pulled out his wallet.
“I’ve got it,” said Nick.
“No way. You’re doing me a favor. I got it.”
“A favor?”
“Giving me a ride home.”
Oh.
Nick felt like he was stumbling through his evening, and every step was wrong. When Courtney-Carrie-Whatever handed them their cups, he could barely get it together to thank her.
She’d written her number on the cardboard sleeve. Along with her name—Courtnie—with a big heart over the I.
“Ready to go?” said Adam.
“Yeah. I—” Nick hesitated, not even sure what he was going to say. “Yeah. I’m ready.”
Their breaths fogged when they stepped outside. After the warmth and bustle of the Starbucks, the sudden silence closed in around Nick.
“I’m not chasing you off,” said Adam. “I just knew we couldn’t talk in there.”
“Okay.” Nick thought he should apologize, but he couldn’t quite nail down why. The truck rumbled to life, and he reached out to twirl the dials to get the heat going again. Cinnamon and vanilla wafted from the paper cups to filter through the cab, warm scents that pulled some of the tension from his shoulders.
“So what’s it feel like?” said Adam.
“What’s what feel like?”
“The back wall of that closet you’ve buried yourself inside.”
His voice wasn’t unkind, but Nick heard an echo of what he’d felt inside the coffee shop. Not quite judgment. But almost.
Nick wrapped his hands around his cup and inhaled the steam. “It sucks.” He paused. “Sorry—in there—”
“It’s all right. You don’t have to apologize.” A hesitation. “Your family still doesn’t know?”
Nick shook his head.
“But you came to the studio.”
“Yeah.”
Adam took a drink of his coffee and stared out the windshield, a musing smile on his face. “When I saw you walk in with Quinn, I almost forgot what I was teaching.”
“I didn’t think you noticed.”
As soon as he said the words, Nick wished he could kick himself. He sounded sulky, for god’s sake. Sulky.
Adam didn’t let it go, either. His smile widened. “Don’t you worry. I noticed.”
Nick busied himself with backing out of the parking space, grateful for the darkness, because he was sure heat sat on his cheeks again. But then he got to the edge of the lot and sat there, wondering where to go.
If Adam invited him back to his apartment, he had no idea what he’d say. An invitation equaled an opportunity to say no. A choice. Making one decision led to more complicated ones. Worse, he felt Adam watching him, probably deliberating over the same thing.
But Adam didn’t offer an invitation. “My place,” he said firmly. “Drive.”
CHAPTER 4
Adam’s place looked exactly like Nick remembered. A simple one-bedroom walkout in the basement of an apartment building. No television, but three packed bookcases and an impressive stereo took up the main wall. Nothing else was noteworthy: a small kitchen with a two-seater table tucked in the corner, a tiny bathroom, and a bedroom dwarfed by the queen bed crammed in there. But the living room was huge and open, especially with the wide sliding door leading to the outside.
Nick had gone to friends’ houses before. Parents would either be home, or there’d be plenty of evidence they existed. Parental involvement was a reality. Even his own house had Gabriel’s sports equipment stacked in a corner of the garage, or Michael’s bills and papers always left on the kitchen counter, or Chris’s laundry flung at the bottom of the basement stairs. Always a reminder that no matter what, being alone was practically impossible.
Here, this space was very much Adam’s.
And they were very much alone.
“How long are you planning to hang in the doorway?” said Adam. He shrugged out of a fleece pullover and tossed it through the bedroom door. It left him in a loose T-shirt, cords of muscle trailing down his arms. The air carried his scent to Nick, oranges and cloves.
The truth was that he liked watching Adam move, all rhythmic and lyrical as if the music never stopped.
He could hardly say that. He leaned back against the front door and took a sip of coffee. He meant it to look casual. It probably looked like he was eager to escape. His heart was already working double time. He lived his life doing what others expected of him. Being here with Adam had no place in that. And worse, he had no idea what Adam expected.
Except maybe an answer to his question. Nick shrugged a little,