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“Right. The guy stares holes in my chest every time I come within twenty feet of you.”
Jack blushed. “Hey, he likes me.”
“Likes you?” He relaxed, and Jack followed his lead. “He galloped into your fraternity house like a knight in armor just in time to save the day.”
“Whatever.” Jack rolled his eyes. “There was no galloping. He rang the doorbell and walked into the main room.”
Secretly, Isaiah swooned at the idea of a guy doing that for him. Not that it was going to happen anytime soon. Especially not with a guy from Harrison. He’d dated a couple last year and they had more than outtooled the straight guys who ignored him.
Why did rich guys have to be so entitled? Like this Darren Gage.
Jack’s head snapped up. “What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
“You said Darren Gage.”
“Not intentionally.”
“What about him?”
“Don’t tell me you’re friends.” Isaiah slanted him a look. “I want to keep liking you.”
Jack grinned. “He’s my fraternity brother.”
“Small frigging world.”
Jack blinked at him. “Does this have anything to do with your salty mood?”
Ah, what the heck—he needed to get this off his chest before he broke the news to his mom—oh Christ, he had to break the news to his mom. She’d tell him not to worry. C’est la vie. She’d give him that hoarse laugh she always used to cover her disappointment.
He could picture her on the other end of the line, leafing through the monthly bills, smiling hard as if he could see her, fingers pinching desperately on those envelopes.
“Yo. Breathe. You look like you’re gonna hurl,” Jack said, shifting onto his knees with a concerned frown.
Isaiah lurched to his feet, hauling in a stinging breath. “I’m good. Just some bullshit going on.”
Jack dipped a hand into his bag and pulled out two steel water bottles. He handed one to Isaiah. “You always forget to bring some.”
“Thanks.” Isaiah drank half the bottle to avoid Jack’s question.
“So . . .” Jack fixed him with a look. “What’s your beef with Darren?”
“Remember how I told you the school didn’t open the Gage Scholar Program this year?”
“Yeah.” Jack nodded slowly.
“And I said I was going to file a complaint?”
“You did.”
Damn right he did. Just because he wasn’t one of the rich kids, didn’t mean they could get away with screwing him—or others—like this. The scholarship was supposed to be merit-based, not inherited. “Why the fuck should Darren get a yearly stipend, a guaranteed job in Mid-Atlantic Standard Oil’s management program, and grad school of choice on MAS’s dime? No strings attached. He doesn’t need any of those.”
“And?”
“Someone agreed with me.” He waited for a reaction, but Jack kept silent. “I have a meeting with President Jenkins tomorrow to discuss my participation in the program.”
“That’s great.” Jack’s grin faded when Isaiah didn’t return it. “Isn’t it?”
“I guess.”
“You guess? C’mon. This is what you wanted.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“But what?”
Don’t be late, Jenkins’s assistant had said. You’ve caused enough trouble for the university already.
“Jenkins didn’t appreciate my filing the grievance.”
“Ha. I mean, you can’t be surprised.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.” He’d expected his complaint would end up in the trash.
His phone rang from his bag. Springsteen. Mom’s ringtone.
A long time ago, his dad’s favorite song.
“Mom,” he answered cheerfully as Jack ducked outside to give him a moment of privacy.
“Isaiah,” she said with a warning in her voice, “you shouldn’t have. You need your money.”
“Isabelle loves soccer, and she wanted to go with her team.” She also didn’t need to feel too poor to go to New York for the Labor Day tournament. Not at thirteen.
“She doesn’t need to go to every tournament.”
“Maybe not, but going to all of them can only help. Besides, the money’s nonrefundable.”
“Isaiah. . . .”
“Please. Let her go, okay?”
“As if my wonderful son gave me any choice.” The smile in her voice made the extra classes worth the effort. “I’ll try to pay you back.”
Isaiah swallowed. “Nah, Mom. It’s all good. I promise.”
Fuck Jenkins. He was going to be the Gage Scholar.
Chapter Two
Darren
Darren Gage was a disappointment. To his dad and to himself. And he wanted that to change.
There were many reasons for being disappointed in himself. Like how he’d stood by Harper, biggest douche in their frat, and let him tear into Jack mercilessly for confronting him about cheating on his girlfriend. Or how he’d forced himself to laugh at cruel jokes because it was the path with least resistance.
But mostly, he was a disappointment because he couldn’t tell Dad his attitude sucked since Darren had come out.
At least Mom was taking to it.
Sort of.
Not quite the way he wanted.
Darren stared at the message his mom sent and wished he’d jumped into the shower right after soccer practice rather than check his phone. Instead, he’d scooped it from under the folds of blankets that were puddled on the floor. He was too damn addicted to this thing.
