Charming Like Us (Like Us, #7)

by Krista Ritchie

All three famous families are considered American royalty, but the Cobalts are the gods among the princes, and now that I protect them, I still think it.

"Gods among the princes" I mean, yeah, I'd agree with that assessment.

Most of the world truly thinks Charlie Cobalt is as narcissistic and self-serving as his father, but I’ve been around him long enough to know that he has motives. And they’re not always egocentric. But does he have the ability to go there? Yeah. It’s in him, sure. He’s only twenty-one. He’s so young still. I just don’t know where he’ll really land.

I. AM. INVESTED.

“If people think that I’m betraying my family, they’re dumber than I thought,” he says. “Which is saying something because I think the human race has a chronic case of idiocy.”

Same, Charlie.

No matter how many times Charlie comes back to see the Winged Victory of Samothrace, a gorgeous eight-foot marble sculpture of a winged goddess, he still has that same awed reverence in his eyes as the first time I saw him here. It’s a gift not to become jaded by beauty.

Marigold in the garden; my heart is out in the garbage. I'm being an alarmist.

Charlie is a bunch of contradictions. Whatever moves he is making, they’ll be what he said: selfish and selfless. Oxymorons to the tenth degree.

A MORALLY GREY WALKING CONTRADICTION; they are writing up my dream character here, and I will be devastated if they do him wrong.

Charlie grins and glances back at both of us. “Do I?” His brows rise. “Maybe? Maybe not. Isn’t that the fun of it?” He continues his pace and answers my earlier question. “Story of my life is being surrounded by people who aggravate the fuck out of me.”

Let's start a drinking game where I take a shot every time I think, "Same, Charlie."

The more I’m understanding Charlie, the more I’m realizing he’s more of an open book than people would believe, but his pages are written in an ancient language.

And how it’s the pretty sheen of the Cobalt Empire, the romantic one, but underneath it all, there are cracks. But like so many people, the romanticism is needed on heavy days, and sometimes I even try to let it help carry me through.

I will romanticize the hell out of the Cobalt Empire.

“Life,” Charlie says, eyes closed, pain cinching his face. “Stupid people, the aftereffects of my choices…walking backwards.”

The callback to one of my absolute favorite moments in Some Kind of Perfect. Oh my gosh.

He’s told me that he doesn’t deserve his sister’s love, but there are many times where he proves his own belief wrong.

Charlie. Keating. Motherfucking. Cobalt. Pieces of the overarching big-picture puzzle abruptly line up and connect too perfectly. My head spins. “Charlie…”

Charlie lets people beat the shit out of him. He’ll surrender himself to pain because he doesn’t care about his own life.

Charlie is the song "Phase" personified. He wears his shadow like a uniform; he's torn right through.

“That’s why guys like you and me,” I tell Charlie, “shouldn’t be producers.” His lip curves. “Are you saying I lack a sense of morality?” Yes.

Morally grey is the sexiest color, yes?

In the garden, I watch Charlie study the chess board. It’s those soft moments people don’t see. The ones I cherish from Charlie. It’s why I trust he’ll find his way.

Thank you for your story, Oscar, as it gave wonderful insights to Charlie.

Maybe for people like Charlie, it’s eternally stuck at the beginning. And that’s the frustration of it all.

The frustration. of. it. all.