But the room wasn’t that big. His eyes had flicked in their direction when Quinn climbed onto the back row of the risers—but his gaze passed over Nick without recognition.

And now Nick was sitting here staring at him.

God, this was awkward.

In a flash, he understood the smiley in that text message. Maybe Adam was okay with Nick coming along because he didn’t care anymore. And honestly, Nick couldn’t blame him. Adam was out. He was comfortable in his skin. He had an apartment and a job and a life.

He wasn’t hiding from his family and ignoring a stack of college correspondence because he didn’t want to deal with reality.

At least this was easier. Bringing the physics textbook had been a good call. Nick slid his notebook out of the bag.

He wasn’t fooling himself.

His chest felt tight. Breath fought its way into his lungs. Adam might not have been watching him, but Nick felt like the center of attention anyway, like everyone in this room could feel his agitation, his insecurity, his disappointment.

He kept his head down over his notebook, but the rich timbre of Adam’s voice kept poking at the edges of his awareness. Adam was a good teacher. Friendly. Engaging, making the kids laugh as he counted off a routine and pointed out their errors.

His bare feet crossed the studio to stop in front of the stereo, drawing Nick’s eyes. He hit a button, and music swelled through the room. Country, to Nick’s surprise, lively guitar chords backed by a strong bass line and a driving beat.

Then Adam returned to his spot in front of the mirror and counted off the same beat, leading his students into a routine.

Nick’s breath caught. Music always rode the air until he felt each beat through his whole body. But the air here was full of energy that sparked and rejoiced with the melody. Nick could practically thread his fingers through the notes. He fed a bit of power to the air, getting it back in spades. The students leapt higher, their movements matching the beat perfectly, invisible streamers of sound-fed power weaving among them.

And Adam—he was magnificent. He moved like the music lived inside him, as if Nick’s power choreographed each motion.

When the last chord hit and they went still, the air in the room waited, too, charged with potential.

Then the parents clapped.

Nick felt Quinn breathing beside him. “You did something,” she whispered. “Didn’t you?”

“I didn’t mean to.” And that was true. But facing Tyler in the driveway, telling Quinn his secret, the wonder and fear and uncertainty of coming here—all his emotions had rallied.

Adam was looking now. His chest rose and fell quickly.

All this power, and Nick had no idea what Adam was thinking.