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Darren sucked in a sharp breath. “Um . . . well . . . actually I was friends with Harper. Last year, when he was being a dick to Jack. I wish I wasn’t, but I don’t want you to hear it from someone else.”
Darren was friends with that jerk? “But Jack said you helped him.”
“At the end. Before that, I let it happen.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure why.” He shook his head. “That’s not true. I was trying to fit in. I was in the closet, trying to be who I was supposed to be, and Harper’s father knew mine. When I got to Harrison, Harper sponsored me for Pi Kappa Phi and I just fell in with him. I should have had more of a spine and stood up to him sooner. At the very least, I should have stepped away from him sooner.”
“Actually, I meant why did you turn on Harper and help Jack?”
“It was the right thing to do.”
Isaiah smiled. “You said that about helping me.”
“Because it was.”
God. Why were things so complicated? In a perfect world, he’d have leaned over and kissed Darren. Long and hard. Tongues sliding together as Isaiah squeezed Darren’s nape and pulled him closer. Then he might have dragged him into the back seat . . . if the car had a back seat.
But his world wasn’t perfect, and he couldn’t do that without muddying things worse than they were already.
“Did you want to drive?” Darren’s voice broke his train of thought.
“What?”
Darren smiled shyly. “I asked if you wanted to drive.”
Was he serious? “You’d let me drive your hundred-thousand-dollar sports car?”
“Fifty. It’s not worth a hundred K.”
He gnawed his lip. “I’d love to, but . . .”
“But nothing.”
“Darren . . .”
“Don’t worry about it. I don’t want to own anything that can’t be used. That’s what museums are for.” He opened his door, keeping his attention on Isaiah. “Besides, it’s pretty empty here. You’ll have a chance to get a feel for the car for a bit before we hit the main road. C’mon. Switch places with me.”
Darren exited before Isaiah could protest again. He did want to try driving a classic Austin Healy, but—
“Stop mind fucking this,” Darren said with a grin as he opened Isaiah’s door. “You won’t crash. It’ll be fine.”
Isaiah wished he had the same confidence in himself, but he couldn’t say no to Darren’s exuberant exhortations. A moment later, he found himself in the driver seat, grasping the steering wheel tightly with both hands.
“Hold on there,” Darren said, leaning over. For a moment it looked like Darren might kiss him, or bury his face in Isaiah’s crotch. But then he slid the seat belt across his waist and side and clicked it home. “There are no air bags or chest straps, so that’s all you got.”
“Why does it matter, if you don’t think I’m going to crash?” He winked, and Darren blushed.
“I won’t risk you.”
“What?”
“I don’t care about the car. I won’t risk you getting hurt.”
Isaiah’s heart banged about in his chest.
Darren cleared his throat and pointed toward the foot pedals. “The clutch is pretty loose, so don’t rest your foot on it.”
“Right.” Isaiah couldn’t stop grinning and focused on the manual transmission. His uncle had a Jeep with a stick and had taught him to drive. Said if he could drive a manual, an automatic was a piece of cake.
He put the car in first and slowly released the clutch as he gave the car some gas. The engine revved and they didn’t move. He gave it more gas, and nothing happened.
Darren quirked a frown and opened the door. “Oh, fuck. That’s a lot of mud.”
Chapter Fourteen
Isaiah
“Mud?” Isaiah repeated. “Are we stuck?”
“We’re on bare ground and it’s wetter than I expected.” Darren dug into his pocket for his phone. “Shit. Do you have any signal?”
Isaiah checked his phone and shook his head.
Darren sighed. “This place is notorious for being a dead zone.” He put his phone on the dashboard and climbed out of the car.
Isaiah leaned over the console, catching Darren’s gaze. “What’re you doing?”
“I’m going to rock the car forward. When I tell you, give it a tiny bit of gas—tiny. Too much and you’ll spin the tires.”
Isaiah’s palms grew clammy against the steering wheel. “Tiny bit of gas when you say so. Got it.” At least he hoped he did. “Are you sure you don’t want me to help push?”
“Nah, if I can get the car to rock, a little nudge from the engine ought to be enough.”
Isaiah lowered his window and watched as Darren tested his footing. Darren tossed him an easy grin before palming the trunk. The car swayed. Gently at first, until it was steadily rocking back and forth.
“Okay,” Darren called. “Give it some gas.”
Isaiah released the clutch and applied the gas. The engine revved. He cut back on the gas, and an instant later a tire caught and the car lurched forward onto firmer ground. Once on the pavement, Isaiah cheered and hopped out of the driver seat.
