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Nick blanched.Crap. He hadn’t meant to say that. Rebecca Firestone had thrown him off his game. “Uh, I was speaking … metaphorically?”
“Nick,” Gibby growled.
He shook his head. “Forget I said anything. We have bigger things to worry about. Seth—”
“—is coming up to the table, looking like he’s about to go intobattle,” Jazz said. Then she raised her voice, a sunny smile on her face as she said, “Hi, Seth! We weren’t talking about you at all! Come, sit, sit!”
“Good one, babe,” Gibby said. “That was believable.”
“I can hear you,” Seth muttered as he sat next to Nick. He glanced cautiously at him, and Nick grinned rather maniacally in response. “Hi.”
“Hello, boyfriend of mine,” Nick said, and because he could, he leaned forward and kissed Seth right on the mouth. He hoped a homophobe had been watching and was now filled with so much heterosexual rage, they were choking on it. When he pulled back, Seth’s glasses were slightly askew and his cheeks were pink, but he didn’t look around as if embarrassed. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed Nick again. It was one of the things Nick loved most about him, seeing as how it was about damn time queer people were able to claim public displays of affection for their own without being worried about being harassed for it.
“You seem like you’re in a good mood,” Seth said, bumping his shoulder against Nick’s. “I almost don’t want to ask why.”
“But—” Nick said.
“But,” Seth said, “I feel like I have to ask in case it means you’re going to do something that could end in the destruction of public property.”
“That’s only happened a few times!”
Seth snorted. “Oh, my bad. Only a few times.”
And because Gibby was evil, she said, “Yeah, Nick was just telling us how he’d been kidnapped by Simon Burke.”
Seth turned slowly to look at Nick, who decided that his lunch needed his immediate attention. The sandwich was salvageable. The chips, not so much. Maybe if he poured the remains onto the sandwich? Was that gross? Probably. Whatever. And that still left the banana, which Nickknewwas his father messing with him, given the way he’d once given Nick the safe-sex talk involving a banana, a condom, and lube. Nick still hadn’t recovered. He didn’t think he ever would.
“Nick.”
He groaned and wondered why no one else was as easily distracted as him. “It wasn’t that big of a deal. And I wouldn’t call itkidnapping,” he added, shooting a withering glance at Gibby.
“You used that exact word,” Jazz reminded him.
“Semantics,” Nick muttered. “Okay, fine. Yes, Simon Burke made me get into his limo against my will, andyes, he made vague threats without them actually being threats—which, if you think about it, is a really impressive talent to have.”
“Nick,” Seth said through gritted teeth. “Every detail. Now. Leave nothing out.”
“Ooh,” Jazz said. “I got chills. Seth, don’t move. Hold on.” She held up her phone and took a picture. “Okay, there—I wanted to capture this moment for posterity. Nick, you may continue.”
Nick didn’t like the expression on Seth’s face. It was cold and angry, and someone wearing a cravat should never look that way. “Hey, Seth?”
Seth stared at him.
And because Nick was nothing if not a gentleman (and a big fan of romantic callbacks), he said, “You make my heart so full, I think I’ll die.”
Manipulative? Maybe, but oh-so-worth-it, because the smile Seth gave him was Nick’s favorite. It was slow to bloom, the corners of his mouth tugging upward, a hint of teeth between his lips, the skin around his eyes crinkling slightly. Nick didn’t know what to do with himself that didn’t involve potentially being arrested for public indecency.
“Ditto,” Seth said quietly.
“Aw,” Gibby said, “now I know what a diabetic coma feels like. Nick, get on with it. We only have twenty minutes.”
Quickly, he told them about his jaunt with Simon Burke. They stayed quiet as he talked in a rushed, low voice, Gibby scowling, Jazz’s eyes widening, and Seth looking more and more perturbed. He finished by saying, “And Dad didn’t want me to say anything. I think he was embarrassed by all of it, so don’t tell him you know.” His voice cracked, but he powered through it. “It’s important to me.”
“Sure, Nicky,” Jazz said, sounding shaken. “We won’t say anything.”
“The pills,” Seth said suddenly. “Your Concentra. Did you look into it?”
Nick nodded. “The label on the bottle doesn’t say anything about Burke Pharmaceuticals, but I was able to track the medicine back to them. He wasn’t lying. His company developed Concentra. Dad says he’d have nothing to do with the pills, so he doesn’t think there’s any reason for me to stop taking them.” He looked away. He didn’t like to talk about being medicated. “They … help.”
