Charming Like Us (Like Us, #7)

by Krista Ritchie

Sometimes I wonder if all I’ll ever get is the sex. The quick fucks. Easy to come by, but damn the novelty wears off fast.

“You aren’t too late. Do what you feel without letting judgment cast you aside. So whatever label you choose—or don’t choose, you don’t have to have one—don’t let anyone take that from you. Live your truth. And if someone tries to check you on it, I’m going to check them back in the fucking mouth.”

“Oh sorry,” Joana says like she’s not sorry at all. “I was looking for the mattress that’s always attached to your back.” Charlie chokes on his champagne.

“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. He taps knuckles with Tom, but they don’t leave Luna. They stay while Farrow speaks softly to her and helps her to her feet. She needs X-rays. “Can you talk to Dad?” Luna pleads with a pained wince to Maximoff.

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.