Charming Like Us (Like Us, #7)

by Krista Ritchie

I have a lot of responses: Wise, Long Beach. I’d choose your side too. We can make our own side.

I wish I could just show affection. Touch is my favorite love language, and I can’t wrap an arm around him like I did in the camp cabin.

Romeo leaps lithely across the stage. Have no idea the correct ballet terms, at all. I honestly think Donnelly knows more than me from attending so many of Beckett’s rehearsals and practices.

Charlie bought out the box for a whole year…for the past four years. Same box. Same chairs. My ass probably has a permanent imprint in this one. And I explain how Charlie and Jane made a bet to see who can attend the most performances to watch Beckett dance. Some months, Jane wins. Other months, Charlie does.

“What is that?” He pops out the battery. “I thought you’d know.” Genuine confusion arches his brows. “Farrow gave it to me. He said the camcorder belonged to security, and he asked if I could fix it without damaging the footage.”

Usually I’d keep this uneasy feeling to myself since it’s security, but I’m destroying all kinds of boundaries with Jack Highland.

Beckett Cobalt is in a sword fight, his nimble movements like silk as he dances and thrashes a blade against another. The audience sucks in a collective breath as he staggers back, wounded. He plays a pompous character and acts as though he’s fine.

Effortless beauty and grace with the ferocity of a lion. Charlie read that review to me after Beckett’s first season as a principal dancer. He smiled at his twin brother’s success, and no matter how many hundred times I’m here seeing Beckett jump and twirl, I think of that quote.

Watch me accidentally blow it all up. My confidence has been shot to hell with Jack, but I clearly like a guy who humbles me.

I’m sitting here trying to bask in the fantasy of him and me. For tonight, we are the kings.

Jack bites down on the sucker stick to force back a noise. And then Charlie stirs, the program falling off his face. We both go rigid and retract our hands. Charlie is…still sleeping. Eyes shut.

So I whisper, “Highland?” “Hm?” “It’ll probably be another late-night. You can stay at my place, if you don’t want to drive back.” He smiles. “I’d like that.”

After the ballet, coming back to his studio apartment feels like the hottest romantic invite I’ve ever been extended. So I took it.

“Are these your favorite, Highland?” “They’re up there, as far as Filipino snacks go.”

“Too spicy?” I laugh and grab a different snack. “Should’ve warned you, I’m a baby when it comes to food that makes me breathe fire.”

“Baseball is your favorite sport?” “To watch, yeah. What about you?” He washes down chips with beer. I hang my arm on my leg, beer loose between my fingers. “To be honest, I’ve never really liked watching baseball.” His face drops. “Fuck, bro. I can change the channel.” He reaches forward for the remote.

“No, keep it on. I’ll watch it now.” “Why?” Oscar slowly leans back. “Basta ikaw,” I say in Tagalog and translate casually, “as long as I’m with you, because it’s you.” I swig my beer. “Baseball isn’t so bad in your company.”

Oscar grins, one that feels as overwhelming as the smile on my face. We’re in the hot phase of hot-...

I could be asleep in a bed right now, but Oscar is the only person I want keeping me awake.

“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.” Pulse racing, I step closer. “You think I’m not scared too? I’m running at a half-open window that you almost keep closing!”

“What do you have to lose?” “You!” I yell from my core, eyes stinging. “I could lose you!”

Please fucking believe me.

“We’re going upstairs, Long Beach.”

“It was just a lot. It was good.” He studies me, then his mouth curves upward. “You gave me a heart attack, Long Beach. I thought I broke you.”

“We’re not having sex—” “I understand that, but if one of us is eventually taking a cock in the ass, shouldn’t we work up to it?”

“Pick your poison: you want my fingers in you or your fingers in me?”

I don’t want him to be with anyone else. No one. Just me.

“Do your California best and chill some more,” Oscar says. It makes me smile. “Am I not relaxed?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Nonono, shhh.” He holds tighter to my palm and kisses the back of my shoulder. “Hold out a little more. Trust me.” Trust him.

There is no question. No uncertainty. He has all my trust. I’ve gift wrapped it and delivered it to his door.

“Am I your biggest surprise?” “Oh yeah, every fucking day, Highland.”

“Now I feel like I’ve missed out on something.” He uses the same towel to clean up, his grin rising again. “Maybe next time, Highland.”

but I smile at how Oscar is defending

“Is your body sore?” Oscar asks, considering I’ve been hoisting heavy equipment. “I’m stressed out, man,” I confess. I catch myself off guard whenever I say man. I said “dude” a lot more when I lived in California, and it reminds me I’ve been in Philly since I was eighteen. Fuck…almost ten years. Where has time gone?

I’m dreading the moment where we arrive at my apartment. Not because I have to see Jesse, but because I’ll be saying goodbye to Oscar.

He’s my central core of comfort right now, and to leave that behind sounds agonizing.

He takes a hand off the wheel just to clasp mine. I thread our fingers, and his chest rises.

“I have everything right here. Even a toothbrush and a suit. I heard around town that Oscar Oliveira gives good advice, so I thought I’d listen.” “Sounds like I’m dating a smart guy.”

I can’t look away from him. He’s hot as hell when he’s defending me.

“You’re Team Jack Highland?” “Let’s put it this way—whatever president was sitting at the top of the Jack Highland fan club has been dethroned by me.”

Oscar surprisingly joins me. He knows the chorus, and with an arm out the window, I tap my hand to the hood of the car. We sing to each other, and I thought I had a good voice, one that melts like butter on a hot day. But Oscar sings the fuck out of this song. His voice is deeper and richer and smoother, belonging in the air like a current of wind.

And his hand slips back into mine. We coast and sing, and I let his affection and the melodies calm the outside noise that fights its way in. Don’t let it in.

“So are you giving or receiving, Kuya?” My face feels hot. This is all so new. Including this question from my brother. “I’ll let you know when I’ve figured it out. Only if you don’t mind me asking you the same questions.”

My only friends in Philly are my surfboard and laptop.”

“I thought you exchanged numbers with Winona after the Fun Run?” “I thought so too, but she gave me the number to some Wildlife Conservation fund.”

We love you & support you 100%!! If we can do anything to curb the bad press, let us know. – Jane Here for u. Whatever u need. Call us and we’ll be there – Moffy So sorry this is fucking happening to you. Swim & donuts one day you’re free? – Sulli

For years, I’ve been there for Moffy and Jane when they needed a friend or a helping hand in a crisis, more recently Sulli too.

“Akara texted me.” Oscar grabs protein powder and a bottle. “Me too. He said, congrats. Good choice in bros. He knew you were a frat bro, didn’t he?”

“Where was I?” “Working or flirting with me.”