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From where Nick was sitting, said biceps did not need sparing.
He forced his attention on Quinn. He’d seen the first incarna-tions of this dance a few weeks ago, when Quinn and Adam had scraped it together in the back room of the Y. Quinn had been awkward, trying to keep up with Adam’s polished movements.
But she’d been working hard—now her motions looked like a perfect extension of his.
The air liked their partnership. He could feel their energy in the atmosphere like an electric current through water.
It was good to see Quinn focused on something positive.
By the time they killed the lights in the studio and Adam was locking up, it was after ten. Nick told himself he could force physics lessons into his brain when he got home. It wasn’t that late yet.
Then Adam said, “Want to grab a cup of coffee?”
He should refuse. It was late enough, and he had Mike’s truck.
Then again, Michael would never give him a hard time about staying out. He probably wasn’t even concerned. Nick never did anything wrong.
But coffee would be public. Would Quinn come? Did he want her to?
“Don’t worry about it,” said Adam, his voice easy. “I didn’t mean to throw you into an existential crisis. It’s all right.”
“No! I want to. It’s—yeah. Coffee. Yes.”
“Maybe decaf,” said Quinn. Nick shot her a look.
She yawned. “What? Drop me at home first. I need to crash.”
So he’d be alone with Adam.
Normally it took fifteen minutes to get Quinn across town.
Tonight it seemed to take three-point-two seconds. Nick was very aware of his fake-girlfriend sitting between him and Adam, providing a buffer of estrogen and snark and pretend heterosexuality.
When he couldn’t seem to generate any better than one-word answers, she turned her attention to Adam, prattling about the routine and Adam’s audition and their practice schedule for the rest of the week.
In her parking lot, Nick hoped she’d want a walk up to her apartment, if only to give him another minute for his nerves to settle.
But she didn’t ask and didn’t linger, and before he knew it, she was gone, climbing the stairs and disappearing through her door. The air in the cab was chilled from Nick’s anxiety, but not enough to make his breath fog—yet. He kicked the heat up a notch and backed out of the parking place. Once they were moving again, Nick focused on the road more closely than he had in driver’s ed. They drove in silence for a minute.
That left too much time for thinking, and really, he wanted to turn his brain off.
He cleared his throat. “Starbucks?”
“Your call.”
Adam’s voice was so calm, so sure. Nick glanced over at the next stoplight. While he felt like the slightest noise would send him shooting out of his skin, Adam looked relaxed, loosely coiled in the passenger seat. Streetlights reflected off his hair and eyes, sparking with gold.
“Relax,” he said softly.
Nick let out a breath. “Sorry.”
Adam’s smile turned a little wicked. “We’re having coffee there, not getting naked.”
Nick nearly jumped the curb pulling into the parking lot.
Adam laughed.
Even this late at night, the Starbucks was packed, and they moved to the back of the line. Nick worried that Adam would hang close or drop quasi-sexual banter, but he kept his distance, and his conversation barely strayed from the mundane. Questions about school, about Quinn, about the weather they were having.
