Nick

I didn’t know how I was going to get Scott all to myself by bringing him to the DC with the guys, but at least I had spotted him before he had taken that sour mood back inside. I didn’t realize that a telepath could convey so much emotion, but then again I hadn’t really gotten to know any telepath past acquaintances at school.

Not that Scott was much more than that right now. But there was hope that he could be. A thrill of excitement shot through me when I looked at him, as we descended the stairs, his hands deep in jacket pockets, and dark eyes kept down. His brown hair was messy, like he had run his hand through it the wrong way and hadn’t noticed. But it still looked good. Like he didn’t have to try, and it still turned out great anyway.

That jacket hid a thin frame. Could I lift him with my magic? Now that spiked my curiosity, but how would I ask him? It wasn’t a usual topic of conversation. Hey, can I practice heavy lifting on, well, you?

I chuckled, and he gave me a sidelong glance that sent another thrill through me. We exited the building out the back, crossing a patch of grass and picking up Chase and Lucas on the way. Mark joined us from a class across campus.

There were five of us in the group now that Scott was a part of it, meaning four people I could call friends so far. Why was it so hard for me to make friends when everyone always laughed at my jokes and told me how outgoing I was? It didn’t help that I’d see groups of Chinese students in my classes and want to go talk to them, but I worried my partial whiteness would mean I wasn’t enough and I’d chicken out.

Lucas pulled open the door for the rest of us, and we filed in, getting into a line of fellow students who waited in chatty clusters. I felt pretty lucky to have the friends I did. Our shared interests of video games and STEM classes had brought us together despite our other differences. And now there was Scott, and how did he fit in? A devout eccentric, a bit of an odd man out in our group. But he laughed at my jokes, and was curious about what made me tick, wanted to be considerate of what made me me, and I liked that. A lot.

We continued waiting in line and he was silent beside me, still staring at his shoes as Mark and the soccer boys struck up a conversation about chemistry, of all things.

Now was as good of a time as any to check on him.

“How you doing today?”

Scott jerked like he had forgotten he was with us. But he did look up at me and almost smile. “You’ll never believe what I found out.”

“What?”

“My mom’s a telepath.”

I nodded, gave him a knowing smile. “Figured.”

“No you didn’t,” he challenged.

“Well, makes perfect sense now.” We finally took our turns swiping meal cards. Past the front desk was a salad and cereal bar, and the grill and hot foods lined the back wall, smelling amazing. The whole place was buzzing with conversations, laughter. And among the many groups of people were the occasional floating plates or phones.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Scott challenged, his tone subdued. “My dad doesn’t know. It means my mom’s been lying for like, twenty-two years. Wouldn’t probability put that as a really low chance of happening? Because it’s difficult?”

I stifled a laugh as we got in line behind the others for the hot food. “Are you in a statistics class?”

He immediately blushed, his pale skin going all rosy, and it somehow made him even cuter. “Yeah, um. Yes. But.”

“But life is never the simplest thing, you know? Hah. Tell me that’s in the Collections. It’s probably a parable or something.”

Scott got a little smirk on his face, and it made everything bright. What was this guy doing to me? “It is. Gnomon and Adela. But that’s beyond the point. The point is that the simplest solution is the most probable. So the complete opposite from what happened here.”

“What on earth are you two talking about?” Chase asked, pulling a plate from the stack. I swept up plates for both me and Scott as well.

“Show-off,” Scott whispered. Then louder to Chase, “Statistics.”

“No thanks.” Chase moved on from the first station, and I eyed my choices. Pizza? Grilled chicken? Pork fried rice? Man, college was awesome. “It’s a bunch of assumptions. I like facts.”

“I agree with Chase.” I scooped fried rice onto my plate, and after an eager look from Scott, onto his as well. He then plucked the plate out of the air.

“I can handle it from here.”

“Hey, statistics is legit,” Mark argued from the salad bar. “Took it in high school.”

“Only ’cause it’s actually useful to your major,” Chase said, adding a salad to the pizza already on his plate.

Mark shrugged while slathering his own salad in ranch. “That’s genetics for you.”

The rest of the group headed for the tables as I continued to peruse and Scott lingered next to me. I bumped his plate with telekinesis, and he yelped and steadied the plate before giving me a glare.

“Are you always this much of a . . .” He seemed to deflate, and he grabbed an apple out of a basket at the end of the table. Asshole, or something.

It was quiet, but I still heard it. And it made me laugh.

“So where are you from?” I asked, and that put wind back in his sails as we took our seats next to the others.

“Ralston. Small town about two hours north.”

“Is that close to the coast?” I asked.

“No, no,” Mark butted in. “It’s an hour inland, but you can head out to Barlet Bay, that’s the closest water town.”

“I love that place,” Scott said. “The little restaurant on the pier has the best clam chowder.”

“It’s too cold on the coast,” Mark declared.

I laughed. “Says the guy living in Frannesburg, the city of eternal fog by the solemn sea.”

“You read that description out of a comic?” Mark challenged.

“As a matter of fact, yeah.” I stared at him levelly, and he stared right back. Scott erupted in giggles. “What?”

“You’re lying,” Scott admitted, and I smiled.

“Did you go telepath on me?” I asked.

He shook his head, and focused on his plate. “Did I have to?”

I tipped an invisible hat at him, and he laughed again.

As we continued our meal, the topic changed to the biology class we all happened to be taking from the same teacher. Scott withdrew back into himself, staring at his plate while he ate, without saying a word. Splintered thoughts floated from him. Eccentric . . . lied . . . practice shielding?

“You’re not in that biology class too, are you?” I asked him, and he shook his head.

“Didn’t want to take it my first semester.”

“I don’t want to take it at all.” I spun my fork on my plate with a wave of my hand, and balanced it on a prong.

“What’s your major again?” he asked, and I gave an exaggerated sigh.

“I’m undeclared. I’d like to get a degree in undeclared if they’ll let me.”

He poked my fork, and my telekinesis wobbled then rebalanced. “You’re not sure what you want to do yet?”

“Am I supposed to know by now?”

He glanced up at me. I knew since freshmen year of high school? “No, I guess not.”

I shrugged and let the fork fall. It hit the plate with a clang and the guys glanced over. With them distracted, I swept up all their utensils to the ceiling. Scott noticed, and gave me away by snorting a laugh.

“Gods, really, Nick?” Mark muttered, his chair scraping across the tile as he stood and reached up.

“You could just ask nicely,” I declared.

“You could feed me with your magic if you’re going to take my fork,” Lucas countered.

“I’m holding several objects in the air and you want me to try to add food to the mix? Do you remember how I handled the ice cream? Good thing you aren’t having soup.”

“Natalis help us,” Scott giggled. The others stared at me with half smirks and impatience.

I released everyone’s silverware, which landed with as soft a set of clangs as I could manage. “No fun. You all are no fun.”

“You said the other day your dad has telekinesis?” Scott asked quietly. I played with my fork again, letting it bounce around my plate. Scott’s question had reminded me how much Dad wouldn’t approve of this sort of playing.

“Yeah, I did. His mom and all of her brothers and sisters are telekins too. They’re strong, but he and I have average ability.”

“Where did you grow up?”

“Here, actually,” I admitted. “A few miles northeast. Dad works downtown. He lives down there too, and the commute would have been awful, so here I am.”

“And your mom?”

I grimaced at my plate. It was an inevitable question but still hit me in the gut. “She’s no longer with us.” Could I leave it at that right now?

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Scott pushed food around his plate and stayed silent for a while, but I could feel curiosity from him, a soft tingling at the base of my neck.

“You gotta work on your privacy shields or something,” I said. He froze, and the tingling stopped. “There ya go.”

“I . . .” He frowned at me. “I’m trying to shield. It’s still hard. I really hope not everyone can sense this stuff as well as you can. That I’m . . . not bleeding through that much.”

“I don’t think you are. Remember? It’s easier for people you’re closer to.”

Scott stared at me, his eyebrows raising just enough to look goofy.

“Am I wrong?” I asked, the thrill of my flirt warming my core.

Scott’s jaw dropped, then he sucked in a breath. The others at the table had gone back to their own conversation. Classmates. Cute boys. Gods, I loved that I’d found all these gay freshmen to be friends with, and that they didn’t mind I was bi. Glancing back at Scott gave me those butterflies again. Not quite like I had felt meeting the other guys, though Chase sure was the conventional type of hot. But Scott . . . it was something else. Something that was rapidly becoming special.

“Do you want to hang out with me tonight?” I asked.

He put down his fork, and his eyebrow did a little twinge.

Like, in your room?

Knowing only I could hear what he was thinking was a strange kind of exciting. “Yeah.”

He nodded, and though he was still shyly hunched over his empty plate, his smile was warm.