Charming Like Us (Like Us, #7)

by Krista Ritchie

My dad scowls so well, he could scare the hair off a fucking grizzly bear. I rake a hand across my unshaven jaw. Jack tries to hold eye-contact, but Rodrigo is shaking his hand for two beats longer than normal. I’m thirty-two. My dad shouldn’t be treating meeting a boyfriend like a job interview into the family. Jack Highland is qualified to be with me because I say so. “Dad,” I interject, “is this a staring contest or are you going to talk to him?”

“All good things?” Jack asks with a charismatic smile. “Eh.” He lifts a shoulder, then walks away. Jack looks baffled, his face slowly dropping. I wrap an arm around Highland. “It’s not you. He’s just playing around.” “Rodrigo,” Mom chastises. “Dad,” Jo snaps. He spins back then tells Jack, “You have a good handshake.”

swimmer? I saw an article about your high school championship. You must work hard.” Jack nods, ejecting a tense breath. “It wasn’t easy.” My dad nods back, eyes shifting to me. “He’s a good fit.” His lip rises, just slightly, but that might as well be a million-watt smile from Rodrigo.

“I have a question,” Jack breathes in. “How long have you been keeping that secret?” “That I’m in love with you?” “Yeah.” He nods. My pulse speeds. “A while.” I pause. “You don’t have to say it back if it’s…” I taper off, and I grin at his emerging smile. “What’s so hilarious, Long Beach?” “You really think I don’t love you?” Jack says with a laugh. “Oscar.”

Akara answers, “That’s not protocol. You need to stay at the security apartment in the same building as Luna.” I wait for Quinn to argue, but a second later, he just says, “Fine.”

DONNELLY Since Quinnie is staying at your place, you think it’s against policy to rent out his room for the night?

“Bro, why do you need to rent the room? Send.” DONNELLY Because it’s an empty room. What if I rent out the couch too? Thoughts? My thought was, he’s nearing broke.

I told him that I knew someone who’d rent out the couch. He didn’t ask for a name. Just an email address so he could send an invoice to the “couch renter”—and since Donnelly knows my email, I reached out to my boyfriend. Jack sent the money to Donnelly. And when we showed up to crash on the couch tonight, he was pissed in the way that Donnelly gets pissed at friends. He sighed really hard. And then he let it go. He even offered Jack a beer.

Lmao

“I was so into you that night, and I think I knew it was attraction. I just wasn’t sure what kind. But I wanted to hang around you the whole time.” “Why?” He thinks for a second, then his lips quirk. “Basta ikaw,” he says in Tagalog, and translates again, “Because it’s you, as long as I’m with you.”

“What’s going on?” Jack whispers, following me. I flip on the lights, and he sees Donnelly sleepwalking. My best friend is running into the wall, his eyes are open but not focused. He turns towards the microwave, his chestnut hair askew and boxer-briefs low on his waist. “He’s done this before?” Jack whispers, watching me carefully try to guide my friend back to his bedroom. “Yeah, sometimes. Not all the time.”

“Mmah…Lun…Luna…” Jack and I exchange a confused look. Why is my best friend muttering Luna Hale’s name in his sleepwalking haze? He lowers his voice. “They’re just friends, right?”

“…Lun…yeah…lemme help you, babe.” He’s about to run into the pull-out couch. I try to block him. He bumps me, then turns back towards the hall. “…best pussy…” Motherfucker. Jack frowns and mouths, they hooked up? I shrug. Seems like it. Unless it’s just his fantasy. Either way, all signs point to bad. So fucking bad. Luna Hale’s dad is a recovering addict.

Lol omg

“I’m going to pry for answers tomorrow,” I whisper to Jack, “when he’s actually coherent—” A phone rings too loudly. Donnelly suddenly startles awake. “Fuck. Sorry.” Jack runs to the pull-out and searches for his cell twisted in the sheets. “Donnelly. Donnelly. You’re safe, bro.” He slips and falls on his ass. “You were sleepwalking.” “Huh?” He squints at the light.

I focus on my friend and squat down to Donnelly. “You need a water?” “Nah.” He rests his forearms on his knees. “How’s the couch? Worth the price?” “It’s worth 0 cents.” I sit down on the floor. “1-star rating.” “1-star is better than no stars.”

“What?” “Luna Hale?” His face drops. “Farrow told you?” I choke on surprise. “Farrow knew?” “Shit.” He shuts one eye, then opens it. “So it’s a long story. But I’m not doin’ anything with Luna now.” “But you did?” “Once.” He glances towards the hall and then whispers so quietly I have to strain my ears. “I ate her out. That was it.”

“Do you still like her?” I ask. “She’s cool,” he says nonchalantly. Normally, I’d be grabbing a bucket of popcorn, but I have bad feelings. And Donnelly’s going through enough, so I’m not going to dig into it tonight.

I reach for my phone. “I need to call Osc—” A knock raps the door. I just have a feeling it’s him. Who else would be here this early? I whip open the door to see Oscar’s deep, urgent concern on the other side.

A Secret about Oscar Oliveira: He’s in love with me.

He goes to my mom first. “I’m glad I can finally meet you two. Sorry, I’m not…wearing a shirt, Mrs. Highland. I ran out.” He ran out for me. That fast.

“Just call me Tita Len,” she says, then hugs him. I hear her tell Oscar, “Protect him, will you?” I feel myself smiling. This is new. I’m so used to my mom telling me to protect whoever I’m dating, and I did not think she’d switch that up. “No doubt, always,” he promises.

He kisses my temple, my forehead, my jaw, my lips, and against my ear, he whispers, “I’m sorry I can’t stay longer.” “You don’t need to. This was enough.” It meant everything that Oscar even showed up. He could’ve been pissed that I left like I did.

Once he’s gone, I shut the door and I face my parents. “What’d you think? Mama? I know he had to leave fast, but…” I trail off with a smile. My mom has tears in her eyes. Different kind. Better kind. She nods a lot, choked up. Approval granted. I expect my dad to go off about Oscar’s occupation. “You two make a good match.” He clears his throat, happy for me. I see that clearly. “He’s not what I expected for you, but I can see you love him.”

I tried to tell him earlier before bad timing reared its ugly head again. It may not even be a big deal—or maybe that’s just my optimism soaring in. But the longer I keep it from him, the more it’s growing into one giant secret.

Wuttt

Then my RSVP came in the mail, along with a photo of Thatcher & Jane on a pastel blue couch, seven cats strewn on their laps. And I knew I’d make room for this wedding. In my heart and my mind. November 1st, I’ll be there. Might even be filming (if I still have a job) or I could be hand-in-hand with an actual plus-one this time. Every day feels good being with Oscar.

love that RSVP!!!!

Red-headed, blue-eyed Audrey Cobalt spits a strawberry petit four in a napkin and looks directly into my camera. Like she was caught stealing. Won’t air that. She’d probably request to keep it on the cutting room floor. I smile from behind the Canon and make the hang-loose gesture. She blushes.

“Have you told Oscar yet about what you told me?” That. “Not yet.” It was easier letting out my secret to Maximoff, Jane, and Sulli. I knew they could relate in a way. I’m not sure about Oscar’s reaction.

Wait whattt

I focus the frame on Jane. She shuffles out in a mint-green dress, pink fabric flowers embroidered in the bust. Rose Calloway trails behind Jane with a determined, focused gaze and helps her daughter step onto a circular podium.

I turn back to Moffy since he’s nearest. “Did Jane’s mom design all the dresses?” He nods. “All ten options.” We’re only on option 3.

“Yeah, those are my Emmys.” His grin overtakes his face. “You say that like those are bags of Doritos.” I hook an arm around his shoulder and lead him backwards towards my desk. “In your world, aren’t Doritos equivalent to Emmys?” “Quality, yes.

He shakes his head, confusion cresting his brown eyes. “Even one is a big deal, Jack.” He says my name. Not a nickname, and it sobers the mood for a second. “Don’t compare yourself to other people to minimize what that is.” He points towards my shelf. “Give yourself more credit.”

“Yes, future self, I saw Tye Smith’s penis, and I really, really hate that all I did was stand there. I should have throat-punched him! That’s what Aunt Rose would’ve done.” Her green eyes glass. “I just looked at him and said still a lesbian.”

I’m brilliant, and so are my ideas. Historical evidence: I came up with the fake-dating strategy between Thatcher and Jane. Did not mean for them to hook up or get engaged. But a second reward just means I’m inadvertently even smarter than I realize.

Lol

“Rainbow Brigade’s first emergency meeting is coming to order,” Kinney decrees, lighting a few candles on the table like this is a fucking séance. Hey, we are unburying feelings.

What was jarring was that Kinney kept this to herself. Didn’t even tell the girl squad, her best friends. And Maximoff said that he wished she felt safe enough to open up to someone. I had a light-bulb moment. And here we are. The first ever emergency Rainbow Brigade meeting.

Great seating arrangement in the corner booth, as well. Kinney is in the middle with Tom and Maximoff on either side of her. Jack is close to me, my arm over his broad shoulders, and Farrow and I are sitting comfortably at either end.

Tom raises a hand. “Question, Kinney-witchy-boo.” She glares at the nickname. “Ask.” Her voice is deadpanned. I swig the root beer like it’s my popcorn. Farrow is amused as fuck too. The famous ones bring endless entertainment, which always softens and lightens the raw, heavy parts.

Tom edges forward in the booth. “When are we finding this Tye Smith guy?” he asks his question. “Because I propose we put bees in his locker. I know a dude—” “No,” Maximoff cuts in firmly. Tom waves Thor’s hammer like what the hell. “Then what’s this meeting for if we’re not going to plot revenge?” “It’s a safe place,” Maximoff emphasizes the obvious. “For any of us to come and talk to each other.”

Maximoff continues, “And if you need advice or if something shitty happens and we feel like we can’t go to our parents or our friends, we can come here.” “The Rainbow Brigade,” Kinney says as she slides a button and pin to Jack. “Welcome to the club.” He picks up both, staring at the letters. I squeeze him in a closer hug as his eyes redden with involuntary emotion. He seems surprised at his sudden surge of feelings.

“Thanks…” Jack laughs into a brighter smile and lifts the button. “I’ll wear this proudly, Kinney.” “Cool.” She tries to act nonchalant. Girl is bad at acting because clearly this shit means something to her. And it means something to us, or else none of our asses would be here.

Maximoff blinks like his brain just malfunctioned. “I’m sorry, I just realized we have way too many Slytherins in this group.” “Eh, could use one less dork,” Farrow says, smiling a smartass smile on his husband. “Continuing on,” Maximoff ignores him. We all laugh.

He sighs out, and his eyes land on Maximoff. Tom looks like he’s a second from exploding by whatever else he’s holding in. “And I confess that I might’ve had a small, tiny…like so small you can’t even really see it. Is it there? I don’t think so. Yeah, that kind of crush on Farrow—waaaay before you two ever banged.” His face turns into a wince. “Ahhhh, that didn’t feel as good as I’d hoped.”

Lmo

I knew about Tom’s crush. Farrow knew. And I’m pretty sure he already told his husband too. “It’s okay,” Maximoff says, not caught off guard or jarred. “Is it?” Tom has sunken forward, forehead on the table. “Yeah, it was a long time ago.” Tom pops up, eyes on the ceiling. “My heart has definitively stopped beating.” “Man, lots of people had crushes on me.” Farrow shrugs, and it’s just so easy. I can’t not take the swing. “I didn’t,” I say into a grin. “Not even for a half-a-second.” “That’s because you have questionable taste, Oliveira.” He holds out a hand to Jack. “Present company excluded.”

Maximoff takes his turn. “I confess that in the twelfth grade, this guy on my swim team told me that being a slut must be hereditary, since I like to get it in the ass just like my mom. I guess he assumed I had already bottomed because I’m bi.” Wow, I’m shocked he shared that with anyone but Farrow. Kinney looks overwhelmed. “You never told me that.” “Kin,” he says. “You were eight.” “Oh. Right.”

Lol

So I go ahead and speak. “I didn’t have any LGBT friends in high school, so I looked up a lot online. My dad walked in on me searching the web for How to Douche for Idiots. Literally the title.” Farrow laughs, which lets the younger ones like Tom and Kinney feel free to laugh. I’m glad. It’s a hilarious story as an adult, but damn was I mortified to hell as a teenager.

With the quick raise of two fingers, Farrow is next. “The idea of being a part of a clique is not my favorite thing. And being honest, this has always seemed like a clique.” He tilts his head. “Technically, it still is. But I don’t mind this little club. It’s not half-bad.” I slow-clap. “That was weak sauce.” “Because you can’t stomach hot sauce without shitting yourself.” I start to laugh, then mockingly cover Jack’s ears. “Not in front of meu raio de sol.”

“You think I always know what to say?” Maximoff tells his sister. “You were in shock,” Farrow chimes in. Tom nods. “I’ve never seen a vagina in my life, and I still know I’m gay. What he did was wrong.” “Elephant in the room,” I cut in, “he could be dropping his pants and pressuring other girls to touch his dick. What he did should meet some sort of school punishment, at the least.”

“I should’ve told you so much sooner. I had so many opportunities—and again, I missed them. Let them slip by, and now it feels like an actual conscious secret. Fuck, it is conscious.” Blood has drained from my face. I think I’m near tears. Motherfuck. “What is it?” I ask again. He cheated on me. He doesn’t actually love me. He doesn’t want to be with me long-term. He’s married to a woman. He has a baby. “I’m rich,” he says.

“Oscar?” “Oh my God, Highland.” I lean forward again. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

Feeling better, I look over at my boyfriend. “I understand that you’re rich.” “No, like really rich, Oscar.” I pause for a beat. “How rich are we talking about?” “You know Charlie’s apartment in the Saint-Germain-des-Prés neighborhood?” he breathes. “I could buy one of those.”

I wipe up a melted puddle of Rocky Road. “So while you’re taking all of my clothes, you could probably just buy the department store?” My eyes meet his. “That’s what you’re saying?” He nods slowly. “It’s inherited money. I have a trust fund. My parents are real estate developers.” “Millionaires?” I ask. “Billionaires.” I choke on more surprise. Fucking shit. A billionaire. It doesn’t change how I feel about him. It might change who’s picking up the bar tab.