Page 76 of Forever Relentless

He tipped his head slightly. “You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“Where your eyes go flat, and your voice becomes patronizing.”

I forced myself to soften. “Relax. I’m not flying out there to rearrange a physics lab,” I said evenly.

He grinned faintly. “Good. Because that would be mortifying.”

“If things escalate, you tell me.”

“If they escalate, I’ll handle it.”

I let that pass. He’d always been clever. Always faster than the rest of the room. He didn’t need me stepping in and turning it into something bigger than it was.

But I’d also learned what happened when you ignored small cracks.

“Tate.”

“What?”

“Don’t let it simmer to a boil.”

He tilted his head again. “You think that’s what I’ll do?”

Yes. “I think you internalize.”

He smiled, slow and knowing. “Pot, meet kettle.”

I exhaled through my nose, and his smile grew bigger. Thankfully, Tate changed the subject, and I rolled with it.

It stressed him out to think of Bronson. He’d had too many beatings, too many times being tossed into the trash. Or his books torn, his backpack burned or dumped down the toilet after someone had taken a shit, his assignments ripped to pieces in front of him.

Too long before he’d told me, and I could put a stop to it.

“Have you met anyone yet?” Tate asked me suddenly. “A lady friend you might want to tell me about?”

“A lady friend? How polite,” I teased him. “No, I’ve no time. You know this.”

Tate blew a raspberry. “Well, your roommates do the exact same schedule as you, and they both have fine-looking ladies on their arms.”

Of course, he followed their social media profiles. “You keeping tabs on me, Tate?”

He grinned. “I thought it was time for some role reversal.”

“Cut it out, stalker. I’ll tell you about any lady friends when and if there are any.”

He was content with that answer. “I have to study.”

“Alright, remember to sleep,” I told him seriously. “Zombie genius is so overdone in the physics undergrad program.”

“You’re a hoot, Noah.” He flipped me off and hung up.

“A hoot,” I mumbled as I stood up. “What teenager says hoot?”

I stretched and looked around my room. I needed to study, but I was restless. I didn’t want to hang out with Dustin. I wanted to do something, but do it alone.

Fight.