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Instead of leaving as Darren hoped, Jack stepped in and shut the door. “Okay, I know something’s wrong. I just don’t know what.”
“Nothing’s wrong. Just tired.”
Jack spoke hesitantly. “Is everything okay with Isaiah?”
Darren jerked his head up from the pages he wasn’t reading. “Why? Did you hear something?”
Jack delivered Darren a pointed look.
Darren closed his eyes. “Fine. He stopped talking to me, okay? I have no clue why. I’ve called, texted, emailed, and he doesn’t answer. I keep trying, but I don’t know what’s going on.”
Jack perched on the end of Darren’s bed. “Slow down. Let’s start over. So you guys had a good weekend?”
Darren set the book aside. “It was a good weekend. We made plans for lunch Monday.”
“And he cancelled?”
“With a vague excuse. I wrote back and asked if I could help. My phone says he hasn’t read it. Or any of my other texts.” Or returned his calls or answered his emails. “I hope he’s okay.”
“I saw him today,” Jack said.
“You saw him?” Darren straightened. “Where was he? Did he say anything?”
Jack held up his hands. “Easy. Deep breaths.”
“Sorry.”
“I spotted him walking to class. He had his head down and didn’t stop when I called to him. He seemed kinda . . . off.”
So Isaiah was still on campus, but avoiding him? That didn’t make sense.
Jack rubbed his jaw in thought. “Has this got anything to do with the Gage Scholar competition?”
Darren’s gut churned. Isaiah hadn’t had it easy so far. It wouldn’t be the first time the competition had royally affected his mood. “It’s possible, but I can’t imagine what it would be. We haven’t any scheduled”—or mis-scheduled—“meetings. I wish he’d answer me.”
“Yep, been there, felt that. Ed wouldn’t return any of my messages either. Brittany went to see him in person.” Jack smirked. “Something I should have done myself.”
“He obviously doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“Thought the same thing. I was wrong.”
“This isn’t the same.”
“You’re right. I knew why Ed was upset. You don’t have a clue. More reason to go talk to him face-to-face.”
“You think?”
“There is no downside.” Jack pushed to his feet. “Worst thing that happens is you end up where you are now. What’s more likely to happen is you’ll figure it out.”
It made so much sense, but Darren didn’t want to know if it was over already. No, that wasn’t true. He did want to know; he was just afraid that’s what he’d hear.
“I hope it works out,” Jack said as he opened the door. “If you need to talk, let me know. I mean it.”
Darren tucked his head. Normally he didn’t need anyone, but that was before he gave someone his heart.
“Hey, Jack?” Darren looked up and made eye contact with him. “Thanks.”
Jack flashed him a wide grin. “You betcha.”
Darren pulled open the side door and slipped into the mostly dark auditorium. According to the schedule Isaiah shared with the committee, he had a group practice class that began at six that was close to ending. Darren waited nervously, just out of sight.
Music poured from the stage, but Isaiah’s playing sounded off. Riddled with missed notes, and twice he changed the tempo before the others were ready.
“Jesus Christ, Isaiah,” a male shouted, bringing the playing to a halt. “That’s like the fifth time today you’ve fucked up. I don’t know what crawled up your ass, but fix it. Fast. We can’t afford a crap grade because you’re in some funk.”
“Lay off, Alan,” a female said. “We all have bad days.”
“Yeah,” another woman said. “You’re used to Isaiah keeping us on point. When he’s off it screws us up.”
“Why don’t you take a walk, Isaiah,” the first female said. “Clear your head, and we’ll try once more before we call it a night.”
“Sure.” Isaiah sounded so down, Darren’s chest ached.
Isaiah emerged from behind the stage curtains, and Darren stepped forward.
“Isaiah?”
A brief smile lit Isaiah’s face before darkening. Isaiah shook his head and pivoted away.
“Isaiah, please. Tell me what I did so I can fix it. Whatever it is, I’m sorry.”
Isaiah held up his left hand, but didn’t turn around. His voice was choked with emotion. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
Darren darted forward and gently turned Isaiah to face him. “What’s wrong?”
Isaiah avoided eye contact.
Darren struggled to get his words out without choking. “I thought we were good together. If something happened, please tell me. Whatever it is, we can fix it.”
Isaiah’s shoulders drooped. “You can’t fix this. And I can’t . . . we can’t see each other anymore.”
Can’t? “Why can’t we?”
“Just let it go. Please?”
Darren stepped closer, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I can’t. I like you too much to walk away. Tell me what I did?”
“You didn’t do anything except be wonderful. But it’s silly to believe we can both compete for the same prize.”
