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Nick bristled. “I know it’s not a game; I never thought it was. I’m trying to—”
Seth deflated, curling in on himself. If Nick didn’t already feel awful, this would have clinched it. “I know you’re trying, Nicky. I get that. But what about the real world? We can’t keep this up forever. I mean, we haven’t even asked how Gibby’s doing with her whole college thing, or how Jazz feels about it.”
“That’s between Gibby and me,” Jazz said as Gibby slumped lower on the bench. “And while I appreciate your concern, you don’t get to weaponize that against Nick to try and win an argument.”
Yep, apparently Nick could feel worse. He looked apologetically at Jazz and Gibby. “I’m sorry, I should’ve—”
The bell rang.
Nick startled, looking around to see everyone standing up from their tables. By the time he turned back, Seth was gone. Nick saw him disappearing into the crowd, shoulders stiff. “Shit,” he muttered.
“Not one of your best moves, Nicky,” Gibby said quietly.
Not what he needed to hear. He was hurt and more than a littleangry, but he didn’t quite know at who. He thought it was mostly at himself. “Yeah, well, maybe if he trusted us as much as we trust him, we could’ve heard this already.”
“That’s not fair,” Jazz said, gathering up the remains of her lunch. “He has a point. We don’t know what it’s like for him.”
Nick lowered his forehead against the table. “I screwed up, huh?”
Gibby reached across the table and punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Remember what we talked about this morning? You gotta think things through, Nick. Not everything is easy, just because you want it to be. You say you want to be better; part of that is listening without overreacting. I know you can do it. Seth does, too, but you have to show him that. Don’t you think he’s earned that right?”
Nick didn’t see Seth for the rest of the day. They didn’t share any classes this semester, much to Dad’s relief and Nick’s dismay. They usually found each other in the halls between classes, a couple of minutes where they’d lean against their lockers and grin stupidly at each other.
But he couldn’t find Seth at all after lunch. And the more the afternoon wore on, the more annoyed Nick got, though it was mostly at himself. Sure, maybe he could’ve listened better, but couldn’t Seth see the good in what he was trying to do?
When the final bell rang, Nick was up and out of the classroom before most had even started putting their things away. He ran across the school, dodging students spilling out the doors, apologizing when he bumped into a guy and almost sent him sprawling. He managed to reach Seth’s last class (AP History) before the room had completely emptied, but Seth was nowhere in sight.
Cursing, he headed for the front doors. He stood at the top of the steps, looking around for that familiar mop of curls as a student hung another banner about prom above him. He was about to give up when he saw Seth out of the corner of his eye, trudging down the sidewalk, head bowed as flurries swirled around him.
“Go get your man,” Nick muttered to himself.
He hurried down the steps, jumping the last few and almost losing his footing on the slick concrete. Someone shouted his name, but he ignored them. He reached the sidewalk and turned right. Seth was halfway down the block, heading toward the metro stop.
He caught up to him a moment later, barely out of breath thanks to their workouts. They may not have given him muscles yet, but at least he could now run for a couple of minutes without feeling like he was dying. Small victories.
He hooked his arm through Seth’s, the chill of the winter air around them chased away by Seth’s body heat. He burned a little warmer than most, and usually didn’t mind being Nick’s personal space heater. He startled and looked over at Nick, glasses slightly askew.
“So,” Nick said, “I was thinking.”
“That usually ends in disaster,” Seth said, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. Good sign.
“Usually,” Nick agreed. “But hear me out. Picture this: you. Me. Casa de Bell. Homework because we’re required to. But after that, we watch a bad movie with explosions and spies, and we’ll make fun of all the stupid decisions made on-screen while we eat popcorn. Andthenwe’ll tell Dad we’re gonna go do more homework, but in actuality, we’ll be pre-fornicating.”
Seth’s nose wrinkled. “You really have a way with words.”
“It’s a gift,” Nick said. “And in the middle of all of that, I’ll find somewhere to stick in an awkward apology about how I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s really not,” Nick said. “I—hold on.” He pulled Seth into a shuttered storefront, the awning above them torn and hanging limply. Seth leaned against the wooden door, which creaked under his weight. Nick moved until he stood right in front of Seth, their knees bumping together. People moved behind them on the sidewalk and the sounds of busy traffic was irritating, but for a moment, Nick could pretend it was just the two of them. He studied Seth, cataloguing the tense set of his shoulders. “You told me youweren’t sure about wanting to be Pyro Storm, and I didn’t listen. I did what I always do and made it about me.” He laughed hollowly. “I made a stupidTwitteraccount without thinking about what you wanted.”
“That’s okay.” Seth took his hand, squeezing gently. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Nick’s. “I’m lucky to have you in my corner.”
Simple, but it was a string of words Nick had never heard directed at him before. It was humbling. “I’m trying to help. Pull my weight, you know? I can’t do what you can. I’m not as smart as Gibby or as aware as Jazz.” Certainly not something he’d ever expected to say, but they’d earned it. “I wanted to show you I could help.”
“You do,” Seth said, breath warm against Nick’s face. “Whatever happens, we’re going to do it together, okay?”
That sounded good to Nick. “Yeah. Okay.”
