8
Avery stumbled out onto the street. Linc’s grip on his arm was tight, but the pressure helped combat the panic still pumping through his veins. Without Linc’s hand on him, he might have fallen.
Actually, without Linc, he’d still be reenacting that terrible high school tableau in the back hallway smelling of decades-old cigarettes and urinal cakes. He’d surprised himself by pushing Derek away—a new development in the years since he’d been the weird gay kid in school, and Derek had been the homophobe slacker who saw an easy target he could pick on.
They passed two storefronts before Linc slowed down. They were both breathing hard. Avery’s clothes were sticking to him.
“Are you okay?” Linc asked, hands on his hips.
“Fine.” His insides were basically liquid, but he’d learned years ago that the feeling wouldn’t actually kill him.
“Did he hurt you?” Linc’s chest heaved.
“No.”
“Avery.”
“I’m fine.” He stepped back, and Linc stumbled forward, like he was on a string. They stared at each other. A new nervous something beat in Avery’s chest, but it disappeared just as quickly when Linc turned on his heel and walked a little farther up the street. Avery gave him some space.
He’d been having a good time, overall. Seeing Derek again had tripped him up a bit, but he’d been easy enough to avoid on the dance floor. And Avery had actually been having a lot of fun once Linc had joined him.
Oh, man, had it been fun. Dancing Linc was—well, he was hot, okay? All muscle and stubble. Avery never imagined he might be able to dance with a guy in Seacroft without getting decked, but with Chelsea and her friend for camouflage, pretending they were dancing together had been pretty awesome, even for a little bit.
Of course, then stupid Derek had gone and ruined it. His slurred threats brought back all kinds of uncomfortable teenage memories: Avery pressed against a locker or against the wall of the building, with no one to help.
Except Linc had stepped in, like a hero in a movie. Only Avery didn’t really like playing the damsel in distress, or the way the tension wasn’t sliding out of Linc’s shoulders as he continued to pace on the sidewalk.
“Are you okay?” Avery asked.
Linc whirled, charging back toward him. “You know him, right?”
“Sort of. It’s not like we’re friends or anything. He’s a high school bully whose life never went anywhere.”
“It’s not okay for him to treat you like that.”
“I know. That was pretty cool when I shoved him though, right?” Avery tried for a charming—or maybe goofy—smile, but Linc either didn’t notice or was still too mad to care.
“He knew you.”
“Everyone knows me.” Avery sighed. He didn’t want to talk about this, but Linc was so upset.
“Why?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Can we walk and talk?” Linc was already pacing, but if Avery was moving too, he’d feel less like everyone in town was staring at him right now.
He started up the street, and Linc joined him, shoulder to shoulder.
“The lady at my apartment tonight?” Avery said.
“Your mom?”
“She’s not my mom. She’s my aunt.”
“Okay.” Linc strung the word out slowly.
“I grew up about an hour from here. When I was fifteen, I came out to my parents. They were super religious, super conservative. I knew they weren’t going to be happy about it, but I guess I thought they’d tell me they would pray for me, and then we’d go on with our lives.” A stupid hope, but they were his parents. The alternative had been unthinkable.
“And?” Linc said.
