Better Have Heart (Harrison Campus 2)

It wasn’t a big leap to wonder if this would be how she’d treat a boyfriend.

If it was, Darren was happy. God, he missed his mom.

A whole summer away had been too long.

Necessary, but too long nevertheless.

She understood his moods better than anyone, and she never failed to give good advice. And when she looked at him, the hard exterior he built up thinned every time.

The meal itself was amazing. She’d clearly planned it to be part of the formal welcome event, but without her husband, it became a fantastic culinary experience. Darren had even allowed himself some of the Riesling his mother selected. Isaiah also succumbed to her sales pitch, and the three of them finished the delicious bottle.

Dinner over, his mother excused herself to her rooms to wait for his father.

That left Darren in an awkward situation. If Isaiah didn’t want to retire for the night, Darren had an obligation to entertain him.

But he didn’t want to hang out anywhere his father would walk in on them. He’d managed to shunt his anxiety into tomorrow, and he wanted it to stay there.

“Did you want to hang out a bit before bed? We can watch a movie or listen to music in my rooms.”

It sounded logical when he parsed out the why, but hearing it spoken aloud sounded like a proposition.

It reminded him of their moment in the music room earlier. Of Isaiah’s not-so-subtle—and awkwardly effective—flirting.

God, if the situation were different . . .

As it was, he had to resist.

“No pressure if you want to sleep. It’s just, no one’s going to bother us if we’re in my room.”

He slammed his eyes shut. Making it worse, much? “Sorry, this isn’t coming out right. If we hang out anywhere else, you’ll probably have to meet my dad when he comes home. That’s not a bad thing, per se, but I thought you might like to do it in a more . . . controlled way.”

Isaiah’s smile helped relieve his apprehension. “I’m not sure I want to meet your dad for the first time at 10:00 p.m. Let me race to my room for a minute and come to yours when I’m done?”

“The door to my rooms will be open. Just come on in.”

Darren used the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and put on shorts and a T-shirt before heading back to what his mother called the sitting room. Isaiah hadn’t arrived, so he connected his iPhone to the sound system, sat on the floor in front of the couch, and thumbed through his playlists.

He settled on a compilation of baroque he liked to play while studying.

Isaiah appeared in the doorway. He had changed into shorts and a collared shirt and had his phone in hand. He cocked his head and listened. “Albinoni’s Adagio in G Minor?”

“Good ear.” Of course, Isaiah knew more about music than Darren.

“Did you know Tomaso Albinoni probably didn’t write this?”

“Seriously?”

Isaiah kicked off his sneakers and sat a foot from Darren on the floor. Heat prickled down his side, thinning his breath.

“The story is that Remo Giazotto, a music historian who catalogued Albinoni’s works, was salvaging manuscripts from a library in Germany that had been bombed during World War II. He said he found fragments of the manuscript and completed it. But near the end of his life, he claimed he composed it himself. Since no one ever saw the manuscript fragment he claimed to have found, he probably wrote it. Which is amazing, since it’s probably Albinoni’s best-known work. It also makes Giazotto a brilliant composer in his own right.”

Darren liked how earnest and engaged Isaiah was in the history of the piece. For him, it was a nice song but he had never delved past the notes.

Isaiah stopped suddenly, flushed. “Geek much, here?”

“It’s pretty cool that you know all that. I was going to suggest we could change the music if you didn’t like it, but it sounds like this is okay.”

“Yeah, sure, but I thought maybe we could listen to some jazz? Maybe see if we hear anything for the show?”

“You mean to see if there’s anything I can pull off?”

Isaiah shook his head. “I already know what I want you to play. This would be something I would play.”

Darren held out his hand. “Can I see your playlist?”

“Planning to find the most difficult song you can for me?”

Darren snorted. “Maybe.”

Isaiah scooted closer, the warmth between them intensifying, and opened his phone. “Let me see yours too? I’m curious to see what other musical surprises you have for me.”

“Just want to see my playlists? Right.”

“Why? Are you hiding something?”

“Sadly, I’m super boring. The last thing I want on my phone is something someone can use to blackmail me or my family.”

He barely had any social media presence, and he didn’t even have a shirtless photo of himself in the photos—or anywhere else—just in case someone stole his phone.