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“The back wall of that closet you’ve buried yourself inside.”
His voice wasn’t unkind, but Nick heard an echo of what he’d felt inside the coffee shop. Not quite judgment. But almost.
Nick wrapped his hands around his cup and inhaled the steam. “It sucks.” He paused. “Sorry—in there—”
“It’s all right. You don’t have to apologize.” A hesitation.
“Your family still doesn’t know?”
Nick shook his head.
“But you came to the studio.”
“Yeah.”
Adam took a drink of his coffee and stared out the windshield, a musing smile on his face. “When I saw you walk in with Quinn, I almost forgot what I was teaching.”
“I didn’t think you noticed.”
As soon as he said the words, Nick wished he could kick himself. He sounded sulky, for god’s sake. Sulky.
Adam didn’t let it go, either. His smile widened. “Don’t you worry. I noticed.”
Nick busied himself with backing out of the parking space, grateful for the darkness, because he was sure heat sat on his cheeks again. But then he got to the edge of the lot and sat there, wondering where to go.
If Adam invited him back to his apartment, he had no idea what he’d say. An invitation equaled an opportunity to say no.
A choice. Making one decision led to more complicated ones.
Worse, he felt Adam watching him, probably deliberating over the same thing.
But Adam didn’t offer an invitation. “My place,” he said firmly. “Drive.”
CHAPTER 4
Adam’s place looked exactly like Nick remembered. A simple one-bedroom walkout in the basement of an apartment building. No television, but three packed bookcases and an impressive stereo took up the main wall. Nothing else was note-worthy: a small kitchen with a two-seater table tucked in the corner, a tiny bathroom, and a bedroom dwarfed by the queen bed crammed in there. But the living room was huge and open, especially with the wide sliding door leading to the outside.
Nick had gone to friends’ houses before. Parents would either be home, or there’d be plenty of evidence they existed. Parental involvement was a reality. Even his own house had Gabriel’s sports equipment stacked in a corner of the garage, or Michael’s bills and papers always left on the kitchen counter, or Chris’s laundry flung at the bottom of the basement stairs. Always a reminder that no matter what, being alone was practically impossible.
Here, this space was very much Adam’s.
And they were very much alone.
“How long are you planning to hang in the doorway?” said Adam. He shrugged out of a fleece pullover and tossed it through the bedroom door. It left him in a loose T-shirt, cords of muscle trailing down his arms. The air carried his scent to Nick, oranges and cloves.
The truth was that he liked watching Adam move, all rhyth-mic and lyrical as if the music never stopped.
He could hardly say that. He leaned back against the front door and took a sip of coffee. He meant it to look casual. It probably looked like he was eager to escape. His heart was already working double time. He lived his life doing what others expected of him. Being here with Adam had no place in that.
And worse, he had no idea what Adam expected.
Except maybe an answer to his question. Nick shrugged a little, feeling the hardness of the door at his back. “I was wondering what you had in mind.”
Then he mentally kicked himself again. He shouldn’t have said that, either.
Adam didn’t tease him this time. He stopped in front of Nick.
“You’re safe here,” he said quietly. “Okay?”
