“What are you gonna do, little Moses?” Tyler mocks. “Michaels isn’t gonna come and save you. He’s too chickenshit after I beat his ass last semester.”

I feel the challenge in Tyler’s emotions almost before I hear the words. He’s full up on bravado, reckless, wanting to get punched. I can’t give him the satisfaction.

“Shut the fuck up, Tyler,” I spit before I can stop myself.

“Oh, you really wanna go again, Michaels?” Tyler steps toward me, Moses’s feelings fading in the background, giving way to the burst of satisfaction in my chest. Tyler wanted this. Tyler wanted to goad me, get into another fight. I’m done caring about the why—I’m so soaked in anger and frustration and fear. He wants a fight? He’ll get a fight.

“No, he doesn’t,” someone says, grabbing my hand and steering me away from Tyler. The hot rage is being cooled by gentle waves of water.

“This isn’t any of your business, Hayes,” Tyler snarls, and I feel Adam squeeze my hand. I haven’t looked at him yet—I’m scared of him seeing too much of me like that—but knowing that he’s there is already bringing my blood pressure down.

“What the fuck business is it of yours anyway, Tyler?” Adam says lightly. “Don’t you have better things to do than picking on Moses and trying to get your face bashed in by my boyfriend? Again?”

Adam’s full of bravado too—not sure this is going to work—but I’m starting to float on his ocean, the sweep of his thumb over mine like the rocking of a boat.

“Whatever.” Tyler rolls his eyes and starts to saunter down the hallway. Moses mumbles something to us—maybe a thank-you—and I want to comfort him somehow but I’m so focused on the rhythm of Adam’s emotions I can’t form words.

“I’m sorry he’s such a dick to you, Moses,” I hear Adam say. “You should really tell someone about it.”

“Yeah, because ratting out dirtbags has historically worked out so well for the snitches,” Moses mutters, and Adam’s laugh lights up all the happy spots in my brain.

“Yeah, okay, fair point.”

“Well, thanks,” Moses’s light voice finds its way to my ears. I think I nod at him before he scurries away.

“Hey there,” Adam says, thumb still rubbing mine soothingly. I finally turn my eyes to him. His face is carefully blank, like he’s trying to control his emotions so I don’t get overwhelmed. I want to tell him that getting overwhelmed isn’t so bad when it’s with him. I want to tell him that sometimes the ocean of his emotions is terrifying in its scope, but other times, like now, I want nothing more than to drown in it. I want to tell him I love him.