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There was also a bounce in his step that, if you didn’t know him, shouted arrogant twat. But Isaiah suspected that wasn’t the case. Reserved, for sure, but he’d been decent to Isaiah when they’d met. And he’d even taken the dig Nico inadvertently gave him without lashing back. More than Isaiah would have done.
He was replaying Friday night when Darren appeared at the table with their drinks. “Thanks, Darren.”
“You bet.”
Isaiah sipped. The oils from the excellent grade of coffee played across his tongue, filling him with familiar comfort. Purely psychological, but it calmed him.
Mostly.
He stared at the lid of his cup. How to approach the elephant in the room? “I’m sorry about Friday.”
Isaiah looked up, meeting Darren’s guarded gaze. Darren watched him for a long beat, as if searching for something. Sincerity, perhaps?
“Really sorry,” Isaiah said.
Darren’s stiffness folded away, and he shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”
“No, I need to. It was wrong. I’m not going to lie and say I never said that to Nico. I did. But when I said it, you and I had only been sparring with each other. It was after the ‘why don’t you ask Grandpa Gage’ thing. And that sounds like the shittiest apology. I’m sorry. I don’t think that way.” Isaiah grimaced and flashed Darren a sheepish grin. “Anymore.”
That earned him a smile. Small, but still there. “Thanks. I guess I didn’t do much to endear myself.”
“Actually, you were always decent, even with my oversized shoulder chip.”
“Oversized shoulder chip. Not a bad description.”
They shared a smirk.
Isaiah fought the urge to tighten his hair. “I also really enjoyed playing together. It was different. Kinda cool, really.” Kinda a lot, actually. “I doubt I could recreate that if I tried. I’m sorry it ended the way it did.”
Darren glanced across the café. “I asked you to meet me because I have a message for you from my dad.”
“Your father? For me?”
Was it Isaiah, or had Darren’s posture stiffened? “The thing is, every year my father meets with the Gage Scholar finalists. He flies them to Philly and hosts a dinner at the house. I was always away at school, so I only remember one when I was five, and I didn’t see much before the nanny shooed Cody and me to our rooms. Point is, Dad has done this every year since he took over from Grandpa Gage . . . his father.
“He wanted me to ask if you’re free next Saturday. He and Mom want to host a dinner for us.”
“Next Saturday?”
“Yeah. I can’t meet this weekend, we have a game. The plan is to fly us there Friday night, spend Saturday in Philly, then come home Sunday. He’s going to send the company jet, so we can pick our times and the pilot can set the flight plan. And . . .” Darren took a hurried sip, sloshing coffee over his chin. He cursed quietly and dabbed his chin clean.
Isaiah felt the nervousness smack into him, and he straightened. “And?”
Darren avoided his gaze. “And you’ll be staying at the house.”
“The house? You mean your house? With you?”
“Yes. I mean the house, not in my room.”
Isaiah hadn’t meant Darren’s room, but that thought took off on a life of its own. He forced a laugh, ignoring the lurch in his gut. “Yeah, I didn’t think your parents would make us share.”
Darren stoic façade returned. “Typically they put the finalists in a hotel, but my mom wants me to stay at the house. I didn’t . . . you know, I was here all summer, so she . . . you know.”
“She misses you. I get it. My mother would do the same.” He smiled. Mothers all seemed the same. Or at least the ones who loved their kids. “Why do they want me to stay there?”
“Dad said it wouldn’t be fair for me to be there and you in a hotel.” He shrugged. “I don’t get it, totally, but that’s what they want.”
It clearly wasn’t what Darren wanted. “I see.”
“So are you free?” Darren looked up from his cup. “If you’re not, that’s okay. Dad will find a weekend that works.”
Isaiah pulled out his phone and checked his calendar. “That’s actually a really good weekend.”
“Really? Great.”
“Are you sure it’s okay to stay at the house?” What he really meant was: are you okay with me staying there?
“Yeah, of course.” It sounded genuine, at least. “I mean, in business, people competing for promotions work together on projects all the time. Part of the equation is how well they work together. Being all cutthroat and acting like your coworkers are the enemy generally doesn’t work so well.”
And this would be strictly business. Of course. “True. Is that why you agreed to let me stay in your house?”
Darren snorted and shook his head. “I didn’t get a say.” His façade cracked a bit. “But, I mean, had they asked, I wouldn’t have objected.”
