“Sucks being the girl, doesn’t it?” said Quinn.
“Shut up.” But yes. It did.
Nick tried to be quiet when he snuck Quinn into the house, but Hunter stirred and ran a hand across his face when they crept into the bedroom.
His eyes widened fractionally when he saw Quinn, but he took it in stride. “You guys want me to crash on the couch?”
“She’s sleeping here, that’s all,” said Nick.
Hunter yawned and rolled over, turning his back on them. “Yeah, okay. Let me know if you change your mind.”
Nick usually slept in a T-shirt and boxers, but out of deference to Quinn’s presence in his bed, he pulled on a pair of threadbare sweatpants. They changed in the dark, and then he drew back the blankets.
Quinn slid in beside him. She offered his modesty no deference. His hand brushed bare thigh, but before he could react to that, she was pressed up against him, her leg slung over his.
“What are you doing?” he whispered, controlling the air so the sound waves of their conversation wouldn’t carry to Hunter.
“Come on,” she breathed. “If I’m caught here, it should at least look like we’re sleeping together.”
Nick didn’t say anything, torn between protesting and thinking she had a pretty good point.
Quinn snuggled more closely, resting her head on his shoulder. “It’s not like you care, right? If you want me to move, I will.”
“No.” He hesitated. “I guess it’s okay.”
“Can you still fix my face?” Her voice was sleepy.
“Sure,” he murmured. At least her sleeping position made that easy. He turned his head and eased a breath along her cheek.
She relaxed into him, so he fished for information. “You never told me how you ended up with Tyler.”
“I walked to the 7-Eleven. He was there.”
“You walked there alone?”
“I walk there all the time. Stop being such a mother hen.”
“Why did Tyler start hassling you?” For an instant, he wondered if Quinn had walked up and started hassling Tyler. She wasn’t exactly subtle.
“He wants to know what happened at the carnival. He said something about the Guides.” She paused. “The news said those explosions at the carnival were due to poor wiring.”
“No. That was Calla Dean. She started those.”
“Calla Dean!”
“Shh. Yeah. She was behind the arson attacks, too.”
Quinn’s house had burned down in one of those arson attacks—it was the whole reason they were living in that damned apartment. “I thought that was Rick Stacey!”
“He helped, but she was the mastermind.”
Quinn was silent for a minute. She knew Calla Dean from school—but she didn’t know her well. Calla had been one of the students who’d disappeared after the carnival, and everyone thought she was dead. There was still a memorial of notes and pictures taped all over her locker.
It seemed ridiculous, but all Quinn could think was, I always liked her highlights. “I thought she was one of the students who died in the carnival explosions.”
“We don’t know what happened to her. When Silver came after us, we found the middle school Elementals, but not her.” He shrugged. “Maybe she ran.”
“And Silver is one of the Guides that are trying to kill you guys, right?”
“Right. But he’s in prison.”
“When will they send a new one?”
“Eventually.” He brushed a finger across her cheek. “How’s that feel?”
Her eyes, normally so bright, were shadowed in the darkness. “Much better,” she whispered. “Thanks.”
Then, without warning, she shifted up and pressed her lips to his.
For a second, Nick didn’t resist. He’d kissed girls—lots of them—and he knew how to respond. If that girl Courtnie had ambushed him with her lips, he probably would have kissed her back without thinking about it.
But this—this was different. Quinn knew. And this wasn’t like earlier, when she’d been giving him a cover.
He’d never shove her away, but he stiffened and drew back.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s okay,” he said automatically.
But it wasn’t okay. He felt like he was hurting her, when he hadn’t done anything.
And this would be easier if she weren’t still attached to his side like a leech.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I forgot—what you were doing—it felt—it felt—”
“Shh,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”
“Are you mad?”
He shook his head. “I’m not mad, Quinn.” But he kind of was, and he couldn’t put it all together. He paused and touched her face again. “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have to keep doing this.”
She caught his hand and held it there. “It’s my fault.”
He frowned. “I don’t mean to hurt you.”
“Sometimes I wish you weren’t . . .” Her voice dropped even further, and her eyes flicked toward the end of the room where Hunter slept. “You know.”
“I know.” Truth was, sometimes he wished that, too.
“Do you want me to sleep somewhere else?”
Nick shook his head and kissed her on the forehead. “No. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
She took him at his word. She snuggled back into him, and after a few minutes, her breathing told him she was asleep.
It wouldn’t come so easily to Nick.
Sucks being the girl, doesn’t it?
But he wasn’t a girl. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to play one. Slowly, carefully, so as not to wake her or Hunter, he slid the phone off his nightstand and unlocked the screen.
Did he want to do this? What message would he send?
Then his message icon lit up.
Adam. Words appeared on the screen.
You free tomorrow? Have class til 8 but free after.
Nick’s heart skipped ahead of him, dancing in circles. But he’d already blown off physics tonight, and he had a paper due in two days.
He probably shouldn’t seem too eager, either.
God, he couldn’t believe he was even having this conversation with himself. He typed back quickly.
Have to study.
As soon as he pressed SEND, he wanted to punch the phone. He had to study? Seriously? What the hell was wrong with him? He so couldn’t play this from the other side. How would Adam read that? As rejection? More likely, that Nick was the biggest nerd to walk the earth. The phone silently mocked him, not offering any further messages.
Then, just as he was about to set it on his side table, the display lit again.
Study here?
Nick smiled.
You’re on.
CHAPTER 6
Nick rubbed at his eyes and told himself to focus. He was usually the first one to hand in a completed test, but more than half the class had walked their papers up to the front of the room. Even Gustav Asciak, the foreign exchange student who barely spoke a lick of English, had turned in his paper.
Nick still had half the test to complete. He never should have blown off studying. He kept mixing up the formulas, and the more he told his brain to spit out the information, the more it supplied him with thoughts of what he had been doing last night.
Adam’s eyes.
Adam’s hands.
Adam’s—
Focus.
This wasn’t the end of the world. He had an A average in every single class, including this one. Getting a less than perfect score on one test wasn’t going to kill him.
But it was definitely going to piss him off. His GPA was everything. He wasn’t rolling in money, so he needed scholarships if he wanted to go away to school.
He could imagine the college rejection letters now. After learning that one kiss and a sleepless night led you to fail a test, we have decided you are no longer a fit for our institution . . .
The bell rang, and Nick snap
ped his head up. Students started shoving books into backpacks and pushing for the exit.
Holy shit. He still had seven questions left.
He kept writing, scribbling fast. The room cleared before he was halfway through the next problem. His thoughts were so scattered that he wasn’t sure he was tackling the question correctly.
“Nick.” Dr. Cutter appeared beside his desk, tapping a finger on the plastic surface. His voice was gentle but carried an air of finality. “Time is up, I’m afraid.”
Nick didn’t stop writing. “One minute?”
Dr. Cutter didn’t say anything for a long moment, but Nick felt his concern in the air.
Finally, he put a hand on Nick’s wrist, stilling his writing. “Did you not understand the material?” he said. “I wish you had come to me earlier this week—”
“No.” This was pointless. Nick put his pencil down and rubbed at his eyes. “I understood it.”
The teacher picked up the test and flipped through the pages. “You’ve missed the entire last section.”
Like he didn’t know that. Nick focused on the pencil, wishing he could stab it straight through his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to study. I kept mixing up the formulas.”
Dr. Cutter sat down at the desk beside him. “Is something going on at home?”
Nick knew this voice. He’d heard it twelve dozen times since his parents died. While teachers and counselors had learned to steer clear of Gabriel’s temper, they knew they could seek answers from Nick. Are you okay? Are you getting enough to eat? Is your brother doing enough to take care of you?
But he was seventeen now, and way too old to get a pass for something like that.
Especially when failing this test had nothing to do with problems at home, and everything to do with one dark-haired dancer.
God, you’re obsessed.
“No,” he said. “Home’s fine. Really.”
Dr. Cutter wasn’t convinced. “Girlfriend?”
Nick looked at him. “I’m okay. Just tired.”
“This is a unit test. If you fail, you’ll have to get someone from home to sign it.”
Michael probably wouldn’t be angry, but he’d definitely want an explanation. That was almost worse.
So, Michael, there’s this guy . . .
Nick cleared his throat. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll catch up.”
His teacher studied him, and Nick told himself not to look away. Finally, Dr. Cutter clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll let you do a retake. Friday?”
This was a pity move. Nick knew it, and pride was pricking at him to refuse. Like with his brothers, Dr. Cutter was judging him on what he expected from Nick. But this was an AP class, and his performance here might carry a lot of weight when colleges started dishing out funds.
He told his pride to stick it. “That would be great. Thank you.”
AP Calculus wasn’t much better. Nick had completely forgotten to do the homework. Three questions—three stupid questions! —but he’d never gotten around to opening his assignment book last night, so he hadn’t bothered to do them.
He mentally added another zero to his imaginary grade sheet. At least this was only homework.
By the time he sat at a table at lunch, he was ready for some cutlery, just so he could stab something.
Lunch was pizza. Figured. Not even so much as a plastic fork.
A tray dropped onto the table beside him. Four slices of pizza and a coke. The air told him it was Gabriel before his eyes did. His twin dropped onto the bench. “What’s with you?”
They hadn’t seen each other all morning, but Gabriel could always read his moods like Nick had a news crawl embedded in his forehead.
“Failed a physics test,” Nick said.
“You know how I solve that problem?” said his twin. “I don’t take physics.”
“Hilarious. Where’s Hunter?”
“Working on a research project. I was starving.” He popped the cap on the soda. “You look like shit.”
“Wow, I’m glad you sat down.”
“Hunter said you snuck Quinn in last night. I’m guessing you didn’t get much sleep.”
Nick shrugged, keeping his eyes on his food, torn between defending Quinn’s honor and keeping his own secrets. Then again, she wasn’t exactly making a strong case for her own chastity.
“She needed a place to crash.” Nick hesitated. “Tyler’s hassling her.” He repeated everything that Quinn had told him last night.
Gabriel listened, stacking two slices of pizza to eat them at the same time. “What was she doing behind the 7-Eleven?”
“She won’t tell me.” Nick kept rolling it around in his head. Had she been so upset over Tyler? Or had something happened at home?
“Nicky, you need to ditch this girl.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s nothing but drama. You don’t need that.”
Nick glared at him. “I think I can manage.”
“Jesus, don’t bite my head off. I’m just trying to save you the trouble. We have enough drama.”
He didn’t need a reminder of that. Nick picked up his slice of pizza to spare himself the need to say anything.
“Where is the old ball and chain, anyway?” said Gabriel.
“She had some kind of group project for French.”
They sat in silence for a long moment. Nick knew he should say something—anything—but he was so worried he’d open his mouth and tell Gabriel everything.
“It’s not just your test,” said Gabriel. “What else is up?”
I spent half the night with a boy and I can’t stop thinking about him. “I’m just tired.”
Gabriel didn’t respond, but Nick could feel the weight of his eyes.
“You guys are getting serious, huh?” Gabriel said.
“Maybe.” Nick chewed his pizza and fought with his brain as it helpfully supplied him with thoughts of Adam. Adam’s apartment. Adam dancing, driving his body into a powerful routine. Adam touching him, first the light brush of his fingers, then stronger. Adam, Adam, Adam.
“Who are you doing tonight?” said Gabriel.
Nick choked on his pizza. He coughed hard and needed a drink of soda to get it together. “What did you just say?”
“I said, what are you doing tonight? You’re so frigging keyed up. You have plans with Quinn? Want to go out?”
Nick shook his head. “Yes. No. I mean—I don’t want to go out. I’ve got to study.”
Gabriel’s hand closed over his forearm. “Seriously,” he said, his voice a touch lower. “You all right?”
Nick looked at him. For an instant, he felt like six-year-old Nicky, wanting to cry and hide and let his brother fix everything. What had Adam said last night? You admire him. I can hear it in your voice.
He was right. Gabriel had always been the fighter. The defender. Nick could see it now: if he told his twin something was wrong, Gabriel would be on his feet, ready to knock heads.
It made Nick feel immeasurably weak sometimes. Like when Gabriel was sneaking around, rescuing people from burning buildings. Or like last night, when Tyler had gone after Quinn. Gabriel wouldn’t have picked her up and driven her home. Gabriel would have tracked down Tyler and beaten the shit out of him.
When Nick thought about telling Gabriel the truth about himself, it felt like admitting one more way he didn’t live up to his identical twin brother.
His appetite vanished. He flung his pizza down and shoved the tray away. “Yeah. Fine. You want that? I’m not hungry.”
Before Gabriel could stop him, he shouldered his bag and walked away from the table.
“Hey!” Gabriel called.
Nick called back over his shoulder. “I’ll see you at home later.”
Almost immediately, his cell phone chimed. Nick grabbed it from his pocket, hoping for a message from Adam.
Michael had sent him a message.
Can you help with a job tonight? Should be done by 7. Too much for me + C.
C was Chris. Nick sighed. He was already behind with school, but he’d be able to study at Adam’s, right? Michael wouldn’t ask if he didn’t need the help.
The exhaustion that had been clinging to Nick’s back all day doubled in weight. For an instant, he was tempted to say no.
But Michael expected a yes. And Nick always did what his brothers expected.
Nick slid his fingers along the face of the phone.
Sure. I’ll be there.
Quinn spent all day dodging Becca, but her best friend—ahem, former best friend—caught up to her next to her locker after last period.
Quinn didn’t even look at her. Like she needed to see Becca’s straight, shiny dark hair, her perfect little figure, or Chris Merrick’s arm slung over her shoulder.
Well, Chris wasn’t really there, but he might as well have been.
“I can’t talk,” said Quinn. “I need to catch the bus.”
Becca was studying her. Quinn could feel it. But her voice was easy, casual. “Want a ride?”
“Nah.”
“You want to ride the bus? What are you pissed at me about now?”
Quinn slammed her locker shut, making the metal crash echo down the hallway. She flung her trig textbook into her backpack. This was so like Becca. Acting like Quinn was such a drama queen, so let’s laugh off all her problems and treat her like everything is trivial.
And of course all this slamming and flinging was probably driving that point home.
Quinn picked up her bag and started walking.
“Come on,” said Becca, catching up with her. “Would you stop wasting time and tell me what’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong.”
“I thought you were all into doing the double-date thing with Nick and Chris. What happened?”
Nick is gay and you kept secrets.
“Forget it,” said Quinn. “Just go back to your perfect life.”
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