Charming Like Us (Like Us, #7)

by Krista Ritchie

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. From joining the FanCon tour for her, to threatening her ex-friends-with-benefits so caustically that Nate never made a peep again. And no one knows he did that but me.

Sulli turns bright red. “I opened my big fucking mouth. That’s why. I told Kits and Banks they’re really fucking hot and they make me feel safe and comfortable, and that if I never have another boyfriend in my entire life, then it’d be cool to lose my virginity to one of them.” She nods vigorously. “Yep, and I thought they’d take it like pals, you know like buddies. But they were fucking silent!” She waves a hand around. “So I ran, but then I ended up in the mirrors and I got lost and they were looking for me…and oh my fuck.”

“I’d be better if you overheard someone talking shit about Maximoff tonight,” Charlie replies.

Charlie. Keating. Motherfucking. Cobalt.

“I believe in the Oliveira brothers.”

He frowns for a second. “Are you still my friend?” We were never friends. Those words catch in my throat. Charlie continues, “Jack still hasn’t told me if he wants to continue Born into Fame. And I know he’s upset about my reason. I just didn’t know if that changed things between us?” My mind skates through everything the two of us have been through. All the continents we’ve visited together. All the lunches, dinners, and plane rides we’ve shared. All the games of chess we’ve played and the languages we’ve conversed in. How much I care about him and his happiness. How much he cares about mine. We both wanted each other to fall in love, and he succeeded in helping me open a door that was right out of my reach. It seems callous to continue denying the obvious. “We’ll always be friends,” I tell him.

“Love,” Charlie muses into a sad smile, almost longing. Wishing. I wish I could help open that door for him one day. So he can reach the love of his life sooner rather than later.

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.

“I’m pansexual,” I breathe, knowing this has been what I’ve felt. I’m sexually, romantically attracted to people, regardless of sex and gender. I’m at peace with choosing the label as my own, and I know because I said it to myself in the mirror. And fuck did I feel happy.

Oscar is hawk-eyed more on Charlie, and I realize he’s dropped the legs of his chair he’d been leaning back on. He’s bowed forward. The young ballerina quickly rises to her feet. We’re close enough to see embarrassment shade her face. Hurrying, she continues the dance like nothing happened. She looks shorter than the girls next to her. Charlie careens back to whisper to us, “Who is that?”

Oscar finds her first. He leans forward and whispers, “Roxanne Ruiz. She’s eighteen.” Charlie just turns forward, but I catch his smile.

“I love you. I love run-around-the-world Oscar. I love flirty Oscar, tactical bodyguard Oscar, snack monster Oscar”—everyone laughs, but I hold onto his laughter, his joyful tears that stream like mine—“my number one fan Oscar, sexy Oscar, intelligent as a motherfucker Oscar, a ride-or-die friend Oscar, a good brother Oscar, kiss me when the sun rises Oscar, my one and only Oscar…the love of my life Oscar.” He’s nodding, overwhelmed, our cheeks wet with emotion. “You’re my everything Oscar.”

“Oscar Felipe Highland-Oliveira. I love every part of who you are.” I take his hand in mine and pull out a ring from my pocket. “Will you do me the honor of staying married to me?”

Akara glances at her nipples, then nails a death-glare into me. Like I turned her on. Mother of Christ, I didn’t arouse her on purpose.