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Nick had thought his physics test was bad on Tuesday. He probably should have stuck with that score. This was impossible. He couldn’t think straight. He had no idea what he was writing on the paper.
And he didn’t care.
His pencil moved, but his mind was elsewhere. Adam wasn’t responding to his texts. Well, he’d responded to one this morning, when Nick finally begged him to confirm he’d got home all right.
I’m home.
And that was it. Nick almost would have preferred the silence. Now he knew Adam was getting his texts and choosing not to respond.
Quinn was no better. He’d tracked her down in the hall this morning, but she’d turned her back on him and said she’d talk to him later.
But not before he’d caught a glimpse of the new bruise on her cheek.
What. The. Hell.
He’d tried to catch up to her, but she’d disappeared into a classroom, and the teacher had all but closed the door in his face.
And of course texts demanding to know what had happened had been hopeless. No one would respond to him, it seemed.
He didn’t want to be around his brothers, with Chris suspecting something and Gabriel being an ass**le and Hunter knowing everything but keeping quiet. At least Michael was swamped with work, and he hadn’t resumed the prying.
Nick turned to the last physics test question and sighed. He didn’t have a chance.
He gave it his best shot anyway, hoping for partial credit.
Yeah, right.
Luckily, Dr. Cutter was speaking with another student when Nick brought the test up to his desk. He turned it over, placing it facedown on the desk blotter.
Then he walked out of the room, feeling the pinch of guilt between his shoulder blades.
He had never failed a test. Ever.
And now he’d done it twice.
He couldn’t go to the cafeteria—not like he wanted to eat anything anyway. He shifted his backpack and headed for the library.
While he walked, he scrolled through the texts from Adam until he found the picture he’d sent himself.
His eyes blurred, and he blinked moisture away. God, he’d been such an idiot.
His phone vibrated in his hand, making his heart leap.
Not Adam. Michael.
I hate to ask, but can you help with a job tonight?
Nick sighed.
But what else did he have to do? He texted back quickly.
Sure.
By the end of the day, he was regretting it. Tension was making him surly and snappish. Janette Morrits asked for a pencil in seventh period and he just about flung it in her face. Teachers responded to his attitude with lectures to pay attention, to focus, that they expected more.
Every snicker, every giggle, every stupid use of the word g*y or fag had his head whipping around.
Maybe Hunter changed his mind and told everyone. Maybe they’re all talking about me.
