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He’d listened to her with his eyes screwed tightly shut, his throat one big ball.
He had to try. Had to fight hard for the Gage Scholarship, no matter the outcome. If there was even a chance he could win it, he owed that to his family.
His phone vibrated and he saw Darren’s “OTW” text.
He sent back a smiley face.
And there Isaiah went again, grinning wildly, stomach lurching with giddiness. Ridiculous, how good a text from Darren made him feel.
He blamed it on their evening at Caliber.
Once Nico had taken Max off Darren’s hands, they’d had a great time together. They avoided talking about school, the Gage Scholar program, and money. Instead, they’d debated music—discussed the different groups, who elevated the music, who weren’t ripened enough. Darren’s thoughts were carefully considered; critical, but fair.
But for one tiny little enormous thing, Darren was his ideal date.
He laughed darkly. Someone clearly hated him.
His phone lit up with an email notice. He was about to pocket his phone and ignore the email, when he saw who sent it. Phone unlocked, he opened the email and sucked in the contents. He read it three times to make sense of the words, and barely refrained from throwing the phone across the room.
“Son of a bitch.” Someone really did hate him.
Darren
This was crazy. It shouldn’t make him this happy to be seeing Isaiah. And just to work on the fundraiser. But it did.
He liked the way the guy smiled. How his eyes twinkled when Darren said something Isaiah didn’t expect. It sent a zing—and zang—when he impressed Isaiah. Not that he tried, because he knew better. Either Isaiah liked him as he was, or he didn’t. He wasn’t going to pretend anymore. Not to him or anyone else.
Still.
Heart thumping, he opened the door to the café. Isaiah sat at a small corner table. One step in, and Darren froze. Isaiah’s posture seemed stiff, and he glared at his phone, jaw ticking. Something was wrong.
The door tapped his back, urging Darren toward him.
“Hey.” He tried to sound casual and stifle the sense of dread in his throat. What happened to the guy who’d sent the happy emoji? Had he sent it feeling like this?
“Yeah, hi.”
He hesitated. Did Isaiah want him to sit? Remaining on his feet, Darren cautiously rested his palms on the back of the chair. “What’s up?”
“What’s up?” Isaiah’s head snapped up, blue eyes blazing. “What’s up is I’m getting screwed, and not in the fun way.”
“What happened?”
“Are you so insecure about me winning that you put in a fix?”
The fuck was going on? “What are you talking about? Why are you so mad at me?”
“There’s a meeting next Thursday with our faculty advisors and mentors.”
“Yeah, I know. Jenkins sent me an email.”
“I have a mandatory performance that night. A test. Not just for me, but my entire practice group. I can’t change it. And Jenkins won’t change the day or time to accommodate me.”
“Shit, Isaiah.” What could he say?
“If I don’t go, I’ll bomb out of the program. If I go, I’ll miss my test, screw my performance group, and lose my scholarship. Either way, screwed.”
“There has to be a way to fix it.”
“Nothing I can do.” He glanced up, frustration and anger tempered by an ounce of confusion. “And I can’t imagine you’d care. This way, you win. Right?”
Darren recoiled and took a calming breath. Isaiah had a right to be angry. Not at him, but he understood his frustration. Darren wasn’t going to feed it right now.
“Sorry, Isaiah. I didn’t know about your test. I had nothing to do with the date. They asked me if I was free, and I said I could make it work. That’s it. I . . . we can fix this.” He waited for Isaiah to look up and realize he wasn’t the enemy here. When he didn’t pull his gaze from his phone, Darren stepped back. “I’m going to go. This clearly isn’t a good time to discuss the fundraiser. If I can help resolve this, let me know.”
Isaiah didn’t look up, and he didn’t stop choking his phone.
Isaiah
When Isaiah finally pulled his head up, Darren was gone.
Shit.
He’d messed that up. He hadn’t meant to lash out at Darren.
But the whole thing had his stomach in knots.
Darren hadn’t picked the date, but it didn’t change things. There were enough people on his side helping him win.
And the thing was, even without the added help, Darren was going to win. But fuck, dropkicking him from the program? Did they spare a moment to think how this would affect him later? The head of the business school was involved. There’d be notes about his performance in his file. Even if he didn’t win, as long as he worked hard and did a good job, it got recognized. But this?
