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Isaiah arched a brow, and Darren stopped and tucked his hands across his chest. “I know you have a performance Thursday night, and I assume you’ll want to practice Wednesday, so should we wait until next weekend to meet?”
Next weekend? So long? “Um, well. How about Monday or Tuesday?”
“I have a game Monday, and don’t you have practice every Tuesday?”
He remembered that? “Usually, but not this week. It was cancelled because other groups have their performance and need the stage. And since we perform Thursday, we're using Wednesday as our practice night this week."
“Oh.”
Did he see a hopeful twinkle in Darren's eyes? “So you're free on Tuesday?”
“Yeah, that works. We only have a light practice the day after a game. I’ll be free any time after four thirty.”
“Great.” Isaiah remembered his promise. “Since it’ll be an easy day, I’ll book a room at the yoga studio for our private lesson. We can work on the event after that.”
“Did I mention the reason we get an easy day after a game is we’re all sore?”
“Perfect!” Isaiah smiled at Darren’s attempt to get away. “This will help you work out any kinks.”
“If you say so.”
“Ask Jack if you don’t believe me. He swears it works miracles.”
Darren’s phone buzzed. He spared a quick glance at his pocket, but didn’t take it out. “I’ll take your word for it. I don’t have yoga pants. Is that a problem?”
“You don’t . . .” A realization bubbled to the surface. “Is that why you hesitated?”
“No,” Darren huffed, and avoided looking at Isaiah. “Yes.”
Isaiah tried his best, but the combination of the question and his reaction to being busted proved too much. It started small, but his laugh grew quickly. Darren glared at him, which only made it funnier, and then finally he cracked and chuckled too.
“I’m sorry,” Isaiah said when he’d gained control. “But you were so earnest. You can do yoga in whatever clothes you want so long as they allow you to stretch. Just like you can play soccer in any shorts you like.”
Darren face flushed, but he looked at Isaiah. “Stupid question.” His phone buzzed again, and then two more times. “Sorry.”
“Why don’t you see who it is? Either one person wants you badly or your fraternity is having a crisis that only you can solve.”
“If they’re having a crisis no one else can solve, I’m crashing on your floor tonight.”
The way Darren invited himself to stay over warmed Isaiah. Darren had so easily flung it out there and that it came so naturally only added to the good feeling.
Darren read his messages, and his smile faded. He closed his eyes for a moment.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just . . . weird message from Dad.”
“What’s he say?” Isaiah asked, and then snapped his mouth shut. “Sorry. That’s personal.”
Darren shoved the phone back in his pocket. “He just said to keep up the professionalism and make him proud.”
“Ah, in regards to the Gage Scholar.”
“Right.”
They were only three feet apart, but the divide between them deepened.
“You made a good impression,” Darren said.
Isaiah stared at their bags. “So, Tuesday?”
“Yeah. Five okay?”
Isaiah managed a nod. His voice came out weak. “Good luck tomorrow.”
“Thanks.”
Darren didn’t seem eager to leave, and Isaiah didn’t want him to go either, but he needed to clear his head. “Okay. Thanks again for taking care of me this weekend. I appreciate it.”
He held out his hand and Darren stared at it for a second before shaking. Their connection sent a jolt through him.
Professionalism.
Isaiah hurriedly let go and beelined for the front door.
Lord, he hoped Nico was home. He really needed to talk to someone.
Darren
A handshake? After everything they shared, they parted on a handshake. Just like work colleagues would do. Which was just what his father had suggested in his text, wasn’t it?
He hefted his bag over his shoulder and dug out his phone.
Dad: Good competition you have for the Gage Scholar position.
Dad: Keep up the professionalism.
Dad: Make me proud.
He mulled over his dad’s words the rest of the walk home.
Did Mom say something to him about liking Isaiah? Was that what brought this on?
Was he genuinely concerned Darren was crushing on the competition and how that might affect his chances? Or was he so icked out at the thought of him with a guy that he felt he had to put a stop to it?
His phone buzzed again, and he was ready to scream at it.
How long had he begged the universe for his father to contact him. To say something, anything.
And now he had, and Darren felt like his stomach had sunk to his feet.
Acid flaring up his throat, he checked the message.
Jack, thank God. House meeting for the winter formal started in an hour.
He stared at the screen until it went black. Damn. Shitty timing. No way he could walk in the house, drop off his stuff, and leave unseen.
