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He swings his legs down and sits upright. “Speaking of my final night⁠—”

“No.”

“You don’t know what I’m going to say.”

“I know you.”

“That hurts.”

“Good.”

“I promised we’d perform tonight.”

I pause the track.

“You did what?”

Luca’s expression stays carefully casual. That’s how I know he’s been waiting to tell me.

“A couple of songs. Student Center. Charity thing.”

“Cancel it.”

“Cal—”

“You don’t volunteer me for performances.”

“I volunteered the band.”

“Half the band is in California.”

“The talented half is here.”

“Flattery isn’t getting you out of this.”

“It usually does.”

I shut the laptop. “I’m serious.”

So is he, apparently, because the grin fades.

“It’s for a kid called Sam Okafor. Sophomore. Swimmer.”

I say nothing.

“He was in a car accident over winter break. His family needs help paying for rehabilitation and travelling to the facility. The student groups have put together a fundraiser.”

Of course, they have.

Of course, Luca has found the one reason I can’t refuse without feeling like a complete bastard.

“You knew I’d say no if you asked normally.”

“Yes.”

“So you used an injured kid to corner me.”

“I prefer created an opportunity for personal growth.”