Nathan was trying to kill me.

“Was I not supposed to ask?” He blinked at me, curious and almost innocent, like he had no idea why I was choking to death on the fry I’d just eaten. “I’m good with whatever it is. I’ve been researching different preferences and fetishes. People are weird.”

I finally managed to take a breath without coughing and reached out to take a sip of my water. Of course, I wasn’t stalling, I was just very thirsty. When I couldn’t put it off anymore, I had a hard time figuring out what to say. “You’re people too, don’t forget that part.”

So maybe I hadn’t actually answered his question. I was hoping that with his habit of conversation-hopping, he wouldn’t realize it until later. It didn’t seem to be working, though. He smiled and nodded, clearly not fazed by the idea of being weird. “Very true. But Gabriel likes it too, so I’m okay with that.” Then his voice lost some of his usual excitement and he started mumbling. “At least, I thought I was…I probably am.” I didn’t like the sound of that. I jumped back into the conversation before I could talk myself out of it. “Are you having second thoughts about what he wants?”

Gabriel hadn’t seemed like the kind of guy…master…who would push Nathan into something he didn’t want, and Marcus had nothing but great things to say about the guy. However, I didn’t want Nathan dragged into something he wasn’t ready for.

Everything was falling apart.

One stupid mistake and my entire world was collapsing around me. Dodging horrified stares and disgusted looks from kids hanging around their lockers, I wasn’t sure where to go. School was where I felt safe. The place where it was okay to be a little more me. Not like out and proud or anything stupid, but relaxed. Now it was like I was walking through a minefield.

It was only first period; I was supposed to be heading to math. But when Rebecca stopped me in the hall to ask if the rumors were true, I automatically walked in the other direction. I had pretty well-developed self-preservation instincts.

And my fight-or-flight response only went in one direction—flight.

“Eric!”

“Eric.”

Kids were calling my name from all sides, but I knew better than to stop. Just looking at their faces let me know I’d be beaten up or at the very least taunted. How could Jack have done this? How could they all be doing this to me? One fuck-up and you were done. When did that become the rule?

How could he? He’d said he loved me.

“Eric!”