“No, seriously. I felt really weird about him trying to set me up with Mikey,” I say, feeling worse about myself with every word that comes out of my mouth. “I just said something to make him leave me alone. It was stupid, and I shouldn’t have said it.”

“Well.” His face slips out of the grin and into a neutral expression. “I’m sorry I misread the situation.”

“That’s okay,” I say, struggling to force a smile. Am I out of the woods? I can’t tell what his vibe is right now.

“I could have helped you if I knew. Do you want me to talk to Ed and Mikey?”

I shake my head, self-hatred bubbling in my gut.

“Okay,” he says. “But if they keep bothering you, tell me. You know, if you’re attracted to women, that’s fine. Lots of people are bisexual.”

But I’m not bisexual. I would say that, but the words stick in my throat. I thought he didn’t like that I was gay?

He sits on the couch, then pats the empty space beside him. I sit down as far from him as possible and put my hands on my lap, trying to make myself small and unobtrusive.

“Why did you want to talk to me about this?” he asks.

I shrug, hoping he’ll leave the topic alone, but he waits silently for my answer. “No reason,” I say.

He raises his eyebrows. “Come on, Shay.”

“Um, well,” I say. “I thought you were mad at me for some reason? And I wasn’t sure . . .”

“Shay, I’m not mad at you,” he says tenderly. He closes the distance between us, and I stare up into his face, fear fluttering in my chest. “I’m disappointed.”

I freeze, pinned in place by his stare. “Disappointed?”

“You could be really incredible,” he says. “But watching your performance in rehearsal recently . . .” He shakes his head. “I’m not convinced you’re putting your all into it. I’ve been trying to offer you some extra support, but you don’t seem to want it.”

“N-no, I want it,” I say. Maybe that’s not true, but I would say anything, do anything to get him back on my side.

“Do you?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say, with every ounce of sincerity I can muster.

His expression doesn’t change, and he continues as if he hasn’t heard what I’ve said. “I want you to live up to your potential. If you can’t give everything you’ve got, you’re not going to get the scholarship.”

My jaw goes slack with horror, and I stare at him, dumbfounded. He can’t be—is he threatening me?

“Do you want the scholarship?” he says.

“I want it, I do. I really do,” I babble. “I can work harder! I promise.”