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Charlie twists the gold ring on his finger. A Faust Academy crest of a falcon and crown rest in the center. He never had to tell me, but I know that’s his father’s high school ring.
Chaos Factor #1: Filming Charlie Cobalt. It’s like trying to catch a firefly on a normal production day, and this show will be anything but routine. Chaos Factor #2: Being around Oscar Oliveira. At all. For any period of time.
guys who are just as cut, just as toned, and I never really gave it a second thought. But I’m standing here with a notebook clenched in my hand and surveying his beauty and washboard abs like he’s the Mona Lisa. I wonder what it’d be like to run my hand across his body, his chest, his unshaven jaw. To hold his face and kiss him. He’s masculine. Hard. Muscled. What am I doing?
I manage to sit on a wooden barstool across from Oscar without completely losing it. My body acts like he’s the hottest thing to ever step foot on this Earth, and my brain has trouble catching up to these feelings.
“Donnelly.” I explain how he’d often crash with Farrow at Yale. He’d even tag along dates. Why not join his honeymoon? Farrow won’t care. I continue with a laugh, “The guy attaches himself to Farrow like he’s another appendage. He’s practically Redford’s sixth toe at this point.” Without a doubt, I love Donnelly as much as I love Farrow.
“I can’t talk about it” gets stale fast, and last thing I want is to be stale bread to the person I’m dating. Not when I’m a motherfucking feast.
“I don’t think I’ve heard you say a mean thing about one person. Ever. I’m not missing the moment a sunshine turns into a raincloud, even at my expense.”
“Then tell me something honest about you and your brothers. Something you wouldn’t care if the world knew.” Charlie looks from me to Oscar and then back to me. “Ever since Eliot and Tom moved in with me and Beckett, I’ve been cleaning up their messes. If I’m going to be their janitor, they better know how dumb I think the shit they get themselves into is.” He pulls out a cigarette and types on his phone. “So fuck no, I’m not helping them without giving them a hard time.”
fiddle with my camera’s aperture, and I look up and zone in on Oscar’s nose ring, just a silver hoop. It’s hot. Because of course, nose rings are hot. On anyone. Girls. Guys. People. It doesn’t mean I’m not straight. Right?
“Do you ask all your co-workers for a kiss?” he shoots back. I smile, trying not to disintegrate in my seat from this conversation. “Only the cute ones,” I say, popping a chip in my mouth. As smooth as that was, I regret it. Oliveira, stop flirting with the straight boy. Holy fucking shit, I’m hopeless.
“Sometimes I film Ryke Meadows free-solo. I’m not climbing beside him. Usually I’ll be at the top or on the ground doing drone shots, but watching that guy climb his full route with no rope, no harness…man, that’s stressful. This is a lower tier. Probably because you’re with me and you’ve gone through it all before.”
“Then I made the right decision with this show. Aunt Lily always says she can predict love, but she has nothing on me.”
The clothes were personal. Friendship. I almost laugh. Yeah, my daydreams definitely don’t put Oscar Oliveira in friendship territory. I’m not straight. I’ve known that for the past two weeks. Since the flight to Paris.
“Da-da,” Ripley giggles, trying to swim to Farrow who plays peek-a-boo, using his inked hand to shield his face. Maximoff has their son loosely in his hold, but the baby can already float too well.
“He’s reupholstering the limo, Moffy,” Jane says, more hushed but audible. “He just replaced the interior last year. I’m telling you my dad knows that Thatcher and I had sex in the backseat.” Cobalt drama is like a Cool Ranch Dorito. It makes me happy inside, and I’ll gladly take anything right now. Especially Thatcher, my lead, fucking his fiancée in his future father-in-law’s limo. Look, I’d pay good money to see Connor Cobalt’s reaction.
Absolutely love Kitsuwon as my boss. I’d move mountains for Akara. He cares and would put his ass over hot coals for my ass, so I’d do it for him. Not all men I’ve worked under in security were like that.
“I like you!” I yell from my gut, from my heart. “I like you, Oscar!” He careens back like I shoved him. I’m combusting into a million little pieces, but I push forward from the door. “You’re right, I’m not upset by the set-up. Because I like you.” I speak from the core of my being that I never reached until recently. Until I was twenty-seven and fell for him. Maybe I’ve been falling for even longer. I just couldn’t piece it all together.
I take another step forward. “I like you so fucking much that the idea of losing what we have makes me sick. I don’t want to shut the door on possibly the greatest opportunity of my life, and it’s right here—it’s you.” I never considered being in love, falling in love, finding love a sky-high opportunity that I should chase. But I guess I just never found someone worth chasing.
But why would I play the field when I’ve already found the guy who’s captured my entire interest? I only want him.
“What I’m trying to get at—you don’t need to have a dozen rainbow flags or attend drag shows. It doesn’t make you any less into men. We’re all human, and humans have different interests. You do you.”
I’m playing favorites. Is it fair? Yeah, no. Life isn’t fair, and I have intense feelings for the pretty boy with the camera. And if his little brother is in a pickle, I’m going to help get him out.
“Why?” I question, breathing harder. “Because you’re Jack Highland!” he shouts in frustration. “You’re too captivating, too hopeful, too sexy, too determined and bold. You’re the total package—you’re a knockout, bro, and maybe I’m afraid you’re going to knock me out.”
I’m so close to barging in like this destructive American god is my baby bro.
We go back to our conversation, everyone grimacing at the cold coffees, and after another fifteen minutes, Farrow stands up on his seat—he’s wedged against the wall because everyone filled the booth. And instead of asking Thatcher, Akara, and Banks to move their asses, he literally walks across the table and jumps off. Donnelly and I applaud mockingly. Farrow just lifts a couple fingers in goodbye. “I’m out. See you boys later.” He walks casually to the exit.
“The brightest light shining during the darkest hour,” I smile. “That’s pretty good.” “I’m only doing my best work with you, Long Beach.” I smile, but my lips fall gradually. “What happens when the light dims? You’ll still be interested then?” “Oh yeah.” Oscar nods. “I’m every star circling around you. You need a spark, I’m there.” He says it like a promise.
“Oh—fuck,” Eliot curses, causing us to look back. His gaze is latched to the clubhouse’s deck where their parents are descending in a fury. “Is that Mom?” Tom squints and holds a hand above his eyes. “Brother, see you in the afterlife,” Eliot says.
“Tell me a secret that you’ve never told anyone else.” We have a short window of time. Joana is at the door, but I take advantage of every single second. Holding his waist, I lean in and whisper, “Estou apaixonado por voçê.” I translate, “I’m in love with you.”
“Why the vitriol towards you?” “Because,” I tell him, “sometimes people grip so hard onto the concept of hate that they can’t let go for two seconds to even try to love.” They want to hate something.
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.
Oscar is gearing me up for the eventual fall. So I’ll land softly. But he hasn’t realized that he’s been a crash pad for me from the start. In a way, having him helps me take greater risks. Knowing that he’ll be there at the end of it all. That’s the best feeling.
The famous ones bring endless entertainment, which always softens and lightens the raw, heavy parts.
“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.” Farrow is sucking in a breath that sounds like a cringe. I’d be laughing my ass off if I wasn’t worried about my boyfriend. Jack, though, looks more shocked at this revelation. I knew about Tom’s crush. Farrow knew. And I’m pretty sure he already told his husband too.
“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
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.
“I’m glad you told me now, but Highland, I’d much rather you trust me sooner than later. Don’t be afraid to tell me anything. I want all your skeletons. Even the scrawny ones.”
All I know is my love for Oscar carries me like the water. A feeling of invincibility. The patience as the ocean laps underneath my body. The anticipation as the perfect wave rolls near. The cool excitement and power as I stand up. As I ride those impossible swells, and once I’m in the barrel, all the doubts and fears wash away. Leaving a bright burst of indescribable bliss. That is his love to me.
“What exactly have you heard?” Seriousness crosses my face, especially as he adds, “Have you caught any on film?” Charlie. Keating. Motherfucking. Cobalt. Pieces of the overarching big-picture puzzle abruptly line up and connect too perfectly. My head spins. “Charlie…” No one hears my whisper. “Yeah, I shoot everything,” Jesse says. “I can show you tonight’s footage.” Jack exchanges a look with me. This is it. This is why Charlie wanted to do the docuseries. Besides set me up with Highland, this is the answer we’ve been waiting for all along. “Is it an older man?” Charlie asks. “He’d only be
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“I’m listening.” Charlie moves his queen and it’s staring down my king. “Checkmate,” he says. I’m not even that mad about it. Honestly, I love playing chess against Charlie. He’s the only person who’s ever been able to beat me.
“How many more are you going to steal from me, Long Beach?” “Probably all of them,” I smile widely, sucker up against my cheek. “You want it back?” “I have a feeling that even if I say yes, I won’t see it again.” “That’s not true,” I say with a bigger breath. I pull the sucker out of my mouth, and Oscar takes it. He slips the sucker between his lips. I smile more. That was hot. Nerves start to subside. “Why is that not true?” “We’re together, Oscar. You’ll see your clothes again.” His grin softens to something more serious. Which is funny because he has a sucker in his mouth, and suckers
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“I was never rewriting my life when I met you. There was no rewrite, Oscar, because this is how it was always supposed to be written. I am supposed to be with you. You are supposed to be with me. Nothing else makes sense.” His eyes glass. I continue on, “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
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“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?” A collection of whispers sweeps the lobby, but I’m lost in Oscar’s reaction. He falls to his knees, throws the sucker over his shoulder, and takes my face in his hands. “Yes,” he says. “You’re my everything Jack.” It balloons inside me. Like I’m floating in the air, sun shining down on us.
I’ve watched the sun set and rise in different cities, different countries, different continents with Jack. And each time, I feel like we’ve been chasing the day, catching up to the night. But right now, the world feels like ours. Like one enormous celebration of love. Happiness. We hear the laughter of our families and friends, and our eyes return to each other. Rays brighten our joy as we lean in and kiss.
