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When people believe a lie, they will cling to it with all their fucking might. You know why?” I turn to him, wiping my hands on my sweatpants. “Because if they admit it was a lie, it means they were wrong.” I laugh bitterly. “People don’t want to be wrong.”
“Yeah, well, they’re all fucking WRONG!” He yells at the phone. I just start laughing. His lips lift. “Stop,” he tells me. “Because I really need to scream at these motherfuckers, and I can’t do it on the job.”
“You look hot when you’re angry and trying to defend me.” His lips hoist. “I’m always hot, Highland.”
“You can still back out. This is day one. You’re not in that deep.” I laugh like he has no idea. “Yeah I am.”
And he’s the safe place right now. He must see this answer in my gaze that sinks into him.
You and Highland. Cute. Didn’t expect it, but super happy for you, Oliveira. Don’t listen to the negativity. We’ve got your back. – Farrow Get that ass! And fuck the haters. You’re fire. Jack is fire. Together, you’re a big ball of fire – Donnelly
“Tell me, bro, would you date me?” “No,” Farrow says slowly, “because I’m married to Maximoff Hale.” I clap, almost grinning. Donnelly claps too.
He takes off his reading glasses. “Maybe you should send him a dick pic.” I laugh with Farrow.
“Let him know you’re thinkin’ about him,” Donnelly finishes. “And that’s why you don’t take dating advice from Paul Donnelly,” I say and flip over my phone. No new text.
Even if it was a five-minute, hey there, looking good, Highland, kind of convo. “Call him,” Farrow suggests.
“They’re not fans,” Donnelly says. “They’re stans, but most likely antis.” “An anti?” Farrow arches his brows. “I’m with Redford. What the hell is that?”
“Anti-fans, anti-shippers,” Donnelly explains. “They root hardcore against a couple. Like hate-watching a TV show, but real life, man. It’s my least favorite part of a fandom. No love, all hate.”
But you’re going to find a way to protect Jack because you’re Oscar Oliveira.”
“How much are you charging me for that advice, Redford?” I ask lightly, the mood lifting with my words. “Eh, it’s free. I’m writing it up under, I couldn’t look at your face anymore.” Donnelly laughs.
and Epsilon who keeps eyeing us to death. Jealous motherfuckers.
“Get outta Philly!” a couple drunk guys yell from the bar. I clamp a hand on Donnelly’s shoulder as he pops up. He shuts his mouth as his ass hits the seat. I’m sure he was about to yell, “We’re from Philly!” Heard it before.
Akara gives him a friendly look. “Hey, don’t give Epsilon a reason to say they’re better than us.” Donnelly nods, but Thatcher is glaring at the bar. South Philly guys pop off so easily when their city pride is at stake. Love Philly to death, it’s been my home, but I’m not feeding into local hecklers.
he literally walks across the table and jumps off. Donnelly and I applaud mockingly.
“I’m out. See you boys later.” He walks casually to the exit. “And there he goes,” I quip. “Gone so soon. RIP,” Donnelly says.
Our first fight, I realize. It’s small.
“At the very least, when all else fails, you’re lucky that you have me.”
cost. It’ll make me feel better.” I only agree because of that last declaration.
“Mmah…Lun…Luna…”
“…Lun…yeah…lemme help you, babe.” He’s about to run into the pull-out couch. I try to block him. He bumps me, then turns back towards the hall. “…best pussy…”
Luna Hale’s dad is a recovering addict. Donnelly’s entire family are meth addicts. No way will Loren Hale ever want him involved with his daughter.
“Luna Hale?” His face drops. “Farrow told you?” I choke on surprise. “Farrow knew?” “Shit.”
“I ate her out. That was it.” I get most of the story and learn that only Farrow, Maximoff, Jane, and Thatcher know. Now me and Jack. Let’s keep it that way.
Donnelly and Luna. Luna and Donnelly. A science experiment?
“Do you still like her?” I ask. “She’s cool,” he says nonchalantly.
I mill around the boutique (store closed to the public today) while the Calloway sisters and their daughters chitchat on chaises and cream-colored couches. Everyone waits for Jane and her mom to exit the dressing room.
Red-headed, blue-eyed Audrey Cobalt spits a strawberry petit four in a napkin and looks directly into my camera. Like she was caught stealing. Won’t air that. She’d probably request to keep it on the cutting room floor.
I smile from behind the Canon and make the hang-loose gesture. She blushe...
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Out of everyone in the families, I thought Jane’s fourteen-year-old sister would be the most upset that Oscar Oliveira is no longer single. She had an enormous crush on him, but she was on...
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“How do you feel about being Jane’s man of honor?” He’s the only guy from the famous families invited today. And his lips slowly lift into a wide, heartfelt smile.
Rose Calloway trails behind Jane with a determined, focused gaze and helps her daughter step onto a circular podium.
“Did Jane’s mom design all the dresses?” He nods. “All ten options.” We’re only on option 3.
But… I can’t deny that being around Charlie means I’m around Oscar.
Just today, I’ve missed the way he looks at me like I’m distracting him. That stern and sexy I’m working face. Which is sometimes followed by Oscar offering his snacks to me. How he looks put-off whenever I aim the camera on him.
“I’m not your subject, Highland.” Yet, he’ll just watch me watch him through the lens.
I do want to fuck him. As well as talk to him. And stare at him. Jesus fuck, I’d take standing in the same room as him. Being in Oscar’s presence isn’t even a want at this point. It’s a need. I need him.
As he turns to flick them on, I hip thrust against his ass playfully. He grins back at me. “Perfect form, Highland.”
“I’d let you fuck me.” “Oh yeah?” Oscar rotates and catches my waist, drawing me closer. Pieces of his curly hair fall over a yellow rolled bandana. “I’d do you.”
and my muscles contract at the look in his eye. The one that’s eating me whole.
“Me inside you.” Heat ascends, like flames lick the middle of my office. “Where?” I ask. “Against the desk. The floor. The wall. Anywhere…everywhere.”
Fuck. You’re attracted to him. How was that ever a doubt? It seems so obvious, so clear now.
“Yeah, those are my Emmys.” His grin overtakes his face. “You say that like those are bags of Doritos.”
“Even one is a big deal, Jack.” He says my name. Not a nickname, and it sobers the mood for a second.
“Don’t compare yourself to other people to minimize what that is.” He points towards my shelf. “Give yourself more credit.”
“I know I’ve met a lot of success, especially by twenty-seven, but there’s still more to do. More to achieve.” His brows furrow. “Won’t there always be more? It sounds like you’re setting yourself up to never enjoy what you have.”
“You’re actually the first person who makes me feel like…this is enough.” This is enough.
