“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 snapped 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?