Nick didn’t press. He had enough experience from his brothers—to say nothing of Quinn—to know that people wouldn’t talk until they were damn good and ready. By the time they made it to the tiny restaurant, he no longer expected an answer.

The place looked like it didn’t know what it wanted to be. Red-checked tablecloths, cheap metal chairs, and all manner of food on the menu, from dim sum to stromboli. Soft lighting did nothing to hide the fact that they were the only patrons in the place.

After they were seated at a four top, with sodas in front of them, Nick was desperate for anything to lighten the mood.

“Fast service,” he said wryly. “Do you want me to accuse you of dazzling the waitress?”

Adam choked on his soda. “Is that a Twilight reference? How is it possible your brothers don’t know you’re gay?”

Every time he said that, Nick wanted to flinch as hard as Adam had on the street. “I said a girlfriend was making me read it.”

Adam lost the smile. “Quinn said you’ve had a lot of girlfriends.”

Nick shrugged and wondered what the safe answer to that was. “‘A lot’ is relative, I guess.” He paused, wondering what else Quinn had said about him. “And you?”

“Girlfriends? None.”

Nick smiled but wondered if they were going to play this game all night. The entire rhythm of the evening felt off, like they’d hit the wrong note right from the start, and they’d never really found the melody.

Adam unstrapped his bag and pulled out a chemistry textbook, followed by a spiral notebook. “Didn’t you say you wanted to study?”

So they weren’t going to talk about anything of substance at all. Nick pulled out his calculus textbook, glad he’d brought it along. He worked through the three homework questions he’d missed, hoping he could convince the teacher to give him half credit. Then he moved on to tonight’s assignment.

Adam made for quiet company. Nick had worried it would be uncomfortable, but the restaurant was warm, the French dip sandwiches were exceptional, and an hour had passed before he realized it. He shoved his calculus textbook back into his bag and reached for physics.

The air whispered frustration, so Nick glanced across at his companion’s notebook. Adam hadn’t lied about hating chemistry. It looked like it hated him back, from the amount of cross outs and eraser marks on the paper.

“Balancing equations?” Nick said.

Adam glanced up. “No. Murdering equations.”

“No offense, but why are you taking chemistry if you hate it? I thought you were all gung ho about dance.”

“I am, but I’d like something to fall back on. I need a science credit.” He shrugged. “It was this or biology, and I didn’t want to cut up dead animals.”