Adam was silent for a long minute. A weighted minute.
Then he said, his voice completely sober, “When I was seventeen, Quinn told me she had a crush on me. I told her I had a crush on the starting center of the football team. A few days later, someone slammed my face into the corner of my locker. I never saw who did it. But he broke my nose and two teeth. I had to have reconstructive surgery. I didn’t go back to school.”
Nick was looking at him now. “Holy shit.”
Adam shrugged. “It wasn’t that long ago. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it.”
Nick frowned. “I think—I think I did. I remember something . . .” He shook his head. It was one of those high school dramas, the complete focus of hallway gossip for like five minutes, then gone.
Unless you were the center of the drama, like Adam.
Nick wasn’t entirely sure what to say. That he understood? He’d gotten in enough fights because of being an Elemental that he could relate—but saying so didn’t seem right.
He had to clear his throat. “I’m surprised you provoked those guys on the beach.”
Adam shrugged. “I’m not going to live in fear because of who I am. If that idiot who hit me thought he could scare me straight, it didn’t work.”
The words made Nick’s throat swell. He had to look back at his mug. It hammered home his exact position. Being an Elemental, struggling to find his place among his brothers, hiding who he was with Quinn and every other girl. Funny how the first place he’d found some shred of peace was in a stranger’s apartment, drinking coffee while his girlfriend slept off a bender.
“You’re going to have one hell of a bruise,” Adam said.
“Yeah, well.”
Adam touched his face, and Nick froze. His fingers were warm, gentle, and Nick wanted to freeze time.
Then Adam said, “I’m an idiot. I should have gotten you some ice.”
And his fingers were gone, and Nick was sitting there practically breathless with wanting him back.
One touch, and he was going to pieces. He wanted to slam his forehead on the table.
Adam came back with ice wrapped in a towel, and Nick was so scattered that he almost said that water was Chris’s thing, and it would probably help more to just leave it uncovered.
But then the towel was against his bruised cheek, and Adam’s other hand was on his neck to stabilize it, and even though Nick knew he should be taking over the holding of the towel, he didn’t want to move for fear of disrupting this moment.
It was nothing short of a miracle that the heat off his face wasn’t instantly melting all the ice.
Adam’s thumb tapped against his neck. “Your heart is racing.”
No kidding.
Nick turned his head away and took the ice-filled towel. He set it on the table and had to look into his coffee mug again.
“Sorry,” said Adam. “I know there’s no point in pushing your buttons. You’re just adorable when you blush like that.” Then he was grinning. “Or like that.”
“Yeah, this is fantastic.” Even his voice was gravelly and uncertain.
Adam picked up the towel and held it out. “I’ll stop. You hold the—”
Nick shifted forward and kissed him.
He hadn’t given it a moment’s consideration—and if he had, he probably wouldn’t have done it at all. But now he couldn’t imagine stopping.
Kissing a girl was nothing like this. The basic mechanics, sure. But kissing Adam, there was a strength behind it, a raw masculinity despite his lyrical movement and gentle fingers. Nick was distantly aware of the ice hitting the floor.
Then Adam was kissing him back, drawing at Nick’s tongue with his own. He had a hand behind Nick’s neck, stroking the hair there, and Nick wished he could freeze this exact moment.
Oh, and the next moment, when Adam bit at Nick’s lip.
And the moment after that, when Nick stroked a hand up Adam’s neck, finding the first start of stubble across his jaw.
It was like every thought he’d ever blocked, every fantasy he’d ever refused to acknowledge, was blasting through his brain all at once with the force of a hurricane. Everything he knew was with a girl. Like reciting a learned lesson, something he could do because he had to.
This—this was new. And exciting. And primal and raw and right.
And insanely hot. He wished there weren’t so many damn clothes in the way.
They were going to be on the floor in a minute.
“Easy. Easy,” said Adam.
Nick felt like he was coming up for air.
Hell, he was practically panting.
He looked into Adam’s brown eyes, which were just now searching his.
“Well,” said Adam, a slight smile on his lips. “That was unexpected.”
Unexpected. Somehow the best and worst word to use. All of a sudden, the emotion of the evening caught up with him, and Nick felt the inexplicable urge to put his head on Adam’s shoulder and cry.
But then a girl cleared her throat from behind him.
“You can say that again,” said Quinn.
CHAPTER 6
Quinn wondered just how many times life was going to jerk her around today.
She’d have to storm past Nick and Adam to get to the front door, but a sliding glass door led out of the living room. An alcoholic buzz still made her thoughts swim, but she managed to get the lock thrown. She stumbled onto the tiny concrete patio. Cold air bit at her cheeks before Nick caught up to her.
“Stop,” he said. “Quinn, stop, please—”
She swung around and hit him. Rage-filled strikes that slammed into his chest and made her head ache and vision whirl.
She was vaguely aware she was crying, and she had no idea how many times she hit him before he caught her arms and forced her still.
Quinn looked up at him. Her body felt like she was still moving. The stars spun overhead. Her stomach rolled.
“Quinn,” he whispered.
“Nick,” she said back.And then she threw up on his feet.
He deserved it, but that didn’t make it any less humiliating. She expected him to shove her away in disgust, or to drop her there in her own puke, because she could barely hold herself upright.
But he kicked off his shoes and picked her up.
“I want you to leave me alone,” she said, even as her head lolled onto his shoulder against her will.
“No offense,” he said as he carried her back into the apartment, “but I’m pretty sure you’re as screwed up about what you want as I am.”
He cleaned her up and put her back in Adam’s bed. Then he wrapped the quilt around her and lay down beside her.
Adam brought her Tylenol and a glass of water, then left them alone.
Quinn stared through the darkness at the ceiling. It wasn’t spinning now. Every breath seemed to clear her head.
Stupid tears were still leaking out of her eyes, and she angrily swiped them away.
“I’m sorry,” said Nick.
“So you’re g*y?”
He was silent for a moment, and his voice was careful. “I don’t know.”
“No offense,” she said, mocking his earlier tone, “but I’m pretty sure that’s the kind of thing you’d know by now.”
He rolled up on one shoulder to look down at her—but he didn’t say anything.
And then she recognized the uncertainty in his eyes, the mixture of worry and fear and panic and need. She struggled with acceptance every day—she’d never considered that someone like Nick Merrick would be struggling with the same thing. He’d seemed like such a rock, such a steady, put-together guy, and she’d latched on to him, hoping to find some security.
He was really just as screwed up as she was.
That chased the anger away. “Do your brothers know?” she said quietly.
“I don’t know if there’s anything to know, Quinn.”
Well, that sounded like a heaping load of self-denial. She didn’t look away from him and chose her words carefully. “Do they have any idea you might have entertained the thought of kissing another boy?”
His voice was resigned. “No.”
“Not even Gabriel?”
“No. Jesus, no.”
She stretched her hand out from under the blanket and found his. “It’s okay,” she said. “I won’t tell anyone.”
He rolled back to stare at the same ceiling, but he kept hold of her hand. “I should have just taken you back to my house tonight.”
“No, I’m glad this happened.” Then she winced. “I mean, not the puking part. But I thought you were just stringing me along.”
“Quinn.” He squeezed her hand. “I kind of was.”
She moved closer and put her head on his shoulder. “But now I understand why.”
Nick sighed, but he didn’t say anything.
“I should have known you were too good to be true,” she said.
“What does that mean?”
“It means my luck sucks,” she said. “It was nice dating a guy who treated me like a friend instead of a blow-up doll.”
“You were the one trying to unzip my pants in the truck!”
“Yeah, well, I thought you weren’t interested. I didn’t realize that your divining rod just pointed in a different direction.”
“You’re killing me,” he said. But it sounded like he was smiling.
Quinn sighed. “So I’m back on the market. You should have left me on the beach with those guys.”
His voice sharpened right up. “Quinn, that was insane. You know that, right? After what happened with Becca—you can’t—you just—”
“I had nowhere to go!” she cried. “My mother threw me out again—”
“Next time, call me. Or Becca. This was crazy. Anything could have happened.”
“Becca was with Chris. And you—you weren’t—”
“I wasn’t what?” He pushed her off him so he could look down at her. His voice was fierce. “I wasn’t your friend? I wasn’t concerned? Jesus, Quinn, just because I don’t want to sleep with you doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”
She stared at him. No one had ever lectured her like that.
She kind of liked it.
Nick ran a hand through his hair. “God, you’re crazy. Do you think people will only like you because you put out?”
“I don’t just think that,” she snapped. “It’s true.”
“It’s not,” he said softly. “I promise you. It’s not.” He paused. “You said it was nice dating a guy who was a friend. Why don’t you slow down a bit and take a break from all the . . . ah, extracurriculars?”
Quinn smiled. “You and your vocabulary.”
“I’m serious,” he said. “Why don’t you put all that passion into your dancing?”
“So you want me to hump Adam on stage? I’m not sure that’s the kind of audition he’s looking for.”
“Quinn.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. She was losing Becca to Chris. It was okay, and she got it, but now she was going to lose Nick, too. It was almost enough to force tears between her lashes again.
She opened her eyes and looked down at him. Her voice was choked. “Could we keep dating?” When Nick frowned, she rushed on. “Not like for reals. Just—just for a little while?”
“Why?”
Because she didn’t trust herself not to jump on another motorcycle the next time her mom was a raging bitch or a cheerleader called her fat or there wasn’t any chocolate in the house. Because Nick was still someone steady to lean on, someone who wouldn’t use her. Somehow this revelation made him safer, and for the first time, she wanted to cling to a boy especially because he didn’t want to put his Tab A into her Slot B.