But the air liked Adam, too, liked the way he leaped across the floor and defied gravity, each movement timed perfectly with the beat.

Nick had never wanted to be a dancer, but right now, he felt a flash of envy. And admiration. And—and something—

“What do you think?” Quinn whispered.

“He’s good. Great. The dance. It’s great.” God, what was wrong with him? He rubbed at the back of his neck and pretended to stare at the floor. “It’s fine.”

“He’s super talented. He’s been trying to get in that school for two years, but he needs a scholarship.”

Nick heard longing in her voice and turned to look at her. “Do you wish you could go there?”

She kept her eyes on Adam and shrugged one shoulder. “I could never get in.”

“Have you tried?”

Quinn cut angry eyes his way. “I’d need a scholarship, too, Nick, and they’re not exactly writing checks to everyone who walks through the door.”

He’d grown up countering his brothers’ anger—and Quinn had nothing on that. He didn’t look away. “Have you tried?”

She sat there glaring at him, and Nick just looked back.

The music cut off suddenly, and they both jerked to attention.

Adam was fiddling with the music player. “It’s driving me crazy,” he said, almost to himself. “It’s missing something, but I can’t figure out what.”

“A partner,” said Nick without thinking.

Adam’s hands went still on the iPod, and he looked over.

Nick shrugged a little, wondering at what point his brain had decided to disengage from his mouth. “Sorry. Just thinking out loud.”

Adam smiled again, that slow smile that pulled a little crooked because of the scar. His dark eyes shined in the overhead lights, and his voice was just a touch suggestive. “You volunteering?”

The breath rushed out of Nick’s chest.

Shit. Now he was blushing.

If Gabriel were here, there would be no end to the mockery.

Well, that shut it down, whatever it was. Flustered, Nick shoved Quinn in the shoulder. “No,” he growled. “Quinn is.”

“What?” said Quinn, sounding like she wondered when Nick had lost his mind. “I’m not good enough to dance with him.”

“Sure you are,” said Adam. He walked across the studio and stuck out a hand to Quinn.

But his eyes were on Nick. Nick wasn’t even looking at him, but he could feel it.

He just wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it.

Nick nodded at the floor, then looked at Quinn. “Stop doubting yourself. Give it a try.”

She let Adam pull her to her feet, and Nick was glad they were moving away. Adam’s presence left him doubly off balance somehow, like trying to walk a narrow beam during an earthquake.

Adam and Quinn were talking now, going through the choreography or the music or whatever. Nick had no idea. His brain could barely process the conversation.

No, his thoughts kept replaying the moment two minutes ago.

You volunteering?

He wasn’t offended. He wasn’t shocked. He was—

Nick shut that thought down before it could finish. His life was already complicated enough. He and his brothers were marked for death. They were ostracized by the Elemental community. Nick knew exactly what was expected of him: good grades, hard work, and the occasional girlfriend. He knew how to handle all three, could do it blindfolded.

But that stray thought had weaseled its way into the back of his head, lodging there so firmly that he couldn’t ignore it.

For the tiniest fraction of a second, when Adam had looked down at him, asking about volunteering, Nick had wondered what would have happened if he’d said yes.

Quinn threw her body into the music, trying to match Adam’s complicated choreography. He was a couple years older, but she’d known him since she was a kid, when their parents dumped them in the same ballet and tap combo class. She’d recognized his talent even then, the boy in scuffed dance shoes and frayed sweatpants who moved like a slave to the rhythm. They lived at opposite ends of the same neighborhood, so they’d gone to different elementary and middle schools—but when she was a freshman in high school, they’d caught up to each other. He’d been a junior, lean and agile and always smiling. With his dark eyes and dark hair—not to mention his talent—she’d crushed on him for weeks, following him around like a puppy dog.

He’d been totally sweet about it—until the day she cranked up her nerve and declared her feelings for him.

He’d kissed her on the forehead and told her he wasn’t into girls. Then, presumably to soften the blow, he’d confessed that he was personally crushing on the football team’s starting center.

Unfortunately, the wrong guys had overheard him. Quinn never knew who did it, but someone had punched Adam in the back of his head when he was standing at his locker. Perfectly timed, Adam’s head had snapped forward, right into the metal plate that stuck out to hold a combination lock.

She’d heard that it had taken fourteen stitches to close the gash on his lip.

She hadn’t heard it from Adam—he never came back to school. She’d tried to reach out on Facebook, but his Wall was full of epithets.

And the next day, his account was deleted altogether.

Quinn kind of lost track of him until last year, when he’d shown up at the Y, saying his basement apartment was just too confining. He’d gotten his GED instead of returning to high school, and now, at nineteen, he was working two jobs while taking here-and-there classes at the local community college.

But he could still dance like no one she’d ever seen.

Quinn missed a cue and almost ended up with her face planted in the wood floor. Adam caught her, and she struggled to right herself.

“See?” she snapped. “I can’t keep up with you.”

“No,” he said, putting a hand on her waist to set her straight. “I actually think your friend was right. It was missing a partner.”

“Do you know anyone who can do it with you?”

Adam gave her half a smile. “I thought you were.”

Her eyes flared. “No! This is your audition piece. I’m sure you know someone—”

“I do know someone. I’m looking at her.”

“Oh, I get it, you think having someone do a face plant on stage will make you look better?”

Now he grinned. He was insanely adorable and she was instantly reminded of why she’d had a crush on him in the first place. “Afraid?”

“I—just—you—”

“Yes,” Nick called from behind her. “She is.”

Quinn scowled. “I’d mess it up for you.”

“I’ve auditioned three times and gotten nowhere. I don’t think you could mess it up for me.” He paused, and his eyes went serious. “There’s a different energy to it now. Can’t you feel it?”

Actually, she could. Despite nearly smashing her face in, up to that point, the music had seemed to carry her, like her movement and the song had combined to form something more potent than just a hastily thrown-together dance in a dusty backroom studio at the Y.

She bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to imagine how massive and ungainly she looked next to Adam. “When is your audition?”

“Next month. Four weeks.”

“Four weeks?” she exclaimed. “Are you kidding me?”

“Come on, that’s nothing.”

“Yes, but—but—”

“Don’t let her out of it,” Nick said.

Quinn swung her head around. “Maybe we can cut the commentary?”

Nick met her eyes from across the room, and held them. “Sure, if you say yes.”

“But I don’t—”

“Jesus, Quinn,” Nick snapped. “What else do you have to do?”

And that was one of the things she liked about Nick. He put up with her whining until she was almost sick of herself, and then he called her on her bullshit.

At least it would get her out of the house and away from her mother. And Jake.

And away from those idiot cheerleaders.

And maybe, somewhere deep down inside, she really wanted to see if she could do this.

She looked back at Adam. “All right. Let’s work it out.”

They sketched out a routine, modifying his original piece to incorporate a partner, putting together some moves that she could work on alone.

The whole time, Nick sat without complaint, even when she asked if he needed to go. He’d shrugged and said he was enjoying the music. She’d had other guys come to the studio before, but they usually sighed and started shuffling around after a half hour.

Nick watched. It was both flattering and unnerving.

They danced until her muscles ached and the director was walking around, turning off lights and threatening to lock them inside.

Then they were walking outside, stepping into the cold night air, their breath just starting to fog.

Yes, she was definitely regretting the little booty shorts. Quinn shivered.

Nick had keys in his hand, and he hit the clicker. The lights on his brother’s red work truck flashed. “Get in,” he said. “I’ll put the heat on.”

Oh, wow. She had to grab the handle over the door to even get into this thing.

Adam was standing there, watching her.

No. He was watching Nick. Nick, who was pointedly not looking back at him.

“So, tomorrow morning?” said Adam.

“Sure,” she said, even though he wasn’t even looking at her. “Nine?”

“You coming, too?” he said to Nick.

Nick shrugged and looked at the sky. “Can’t. I told my brother I’d help with a job.”

“So can I get your number then?”

Nick sucked in a breath, looking thrown, like Adam had socked him in the stomach.

Quinn stifled a giggle at his reaction. If Nick Merrick was into guys, half the female population at Old Mill would be sobbing. “Adam, he’s not g*y.”

For the first time all night, Adam lost the smile.

Nick ran a hand through his hair, looking completely unnerved. “Sorry, man—I just—”

“Nah.” Adam shook it off, and a shadow of his smile reappeared. “It’s cool. My bad.” He gave Quinn a wave and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Nick was quiet when they headed out on the road.

“Sorry,” she said, trying to warm her hands by the vents. The truck cab was freezing, and the engine didn’t seem to want to blow warm air. “He didn’t mean anything by it.”

Nick’s voice was somewhat hollow. “It’s okay.”

“He’s not usually that bold. I can’t believe he asked for your number.”

Nick didn’t say anything. Quinn wondered if he really was pissed.

That made her frown. “It’s not catching, you know,” she said.

He glanced over, and his voice was mild. “Quinn, I’m not upset about it.”

She chewed on that for a minute and wondered whether to push or to leave it.

Before she could make a decision, Nick reached out and touched her cheek. “I think you sell yourself short. You’re an amazing dancer.”

His hand was warm, and she leaned into the contact. “Thanks heaps, but you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He laughed. “I guess. But I couldn’t see any great disparity between you and him.”

“Disparity. God, sometimes it’s a wonder you and Gabriel are twin brothers.”

Nick sobered. “Why?”

“You’re like a walking SAT prep book. I guarantee if you went home, Gabriel wouldn’t even know the meaning of the word. On the outside, you’re absolutely identical, but on the inside, it’s like you’re polar opposites.”