Oscar leans back comfortably in a theatre chair. First row. Right next to me.
We both have front row seats to a Cobalt family blow-up. Even if we’re too far away to hear what’s said on-stage.
I should be stoked to even have this opportunity, but it’s hard to pay attention to Charlie when Oscar is right here.
We haven’t spoken.
Not since we arrived at The Vaulted Vestibule. I think we’re both giving each other space to do our jobs, but now it feels different.
Like we’re consciously deciding not to talk.
I’m neck-deep in awkward silence. And I can’t take it anymore.
I shift my shoulders a little and pretend to change the settings on my camera. “Does being a bodyguard mean you have to be silent all the time. Or is that just a choice?”
I glance at him from the corner of my eye, and he’s looking over. Heat ascends my neck. Fuck, dude, you should’ve shut up. It’s easier than treading over my feelings for him…
Whatever those are, I’m not even sure.
“Again, Highland, I’m not your subject,” Oscar says casually.
Got it.
Ouch.
My face drops a fraction. He’s been forthcoming with me and then sometimes, not at all. Like he’s raising and lowering his guards, and every time they raise, I feel like a fresh pile of cow shit.
Like I’m not worthy inside his head. Like I’m not giving enough of me to earn him, and then I just want to talk more.
To do something to earn Oscar Oliveira. Because I’m an overachiever? Because I like him? Because being on the outs with him fucking sucks, and even though I’m afraid of what I feel, I can’t bail. I have to ride the terrifying swell to shore and hope I don’t drown.
I pat my camera. “Like I said, I just want to get to know you better. We have to spend more time around each other, so it makes sense. Right?”
Oscar makes a gruff noise that sounds like it died in the middle of his throat.
My dick twitches against my jeans. Fuck, fuck. I heat up, and my Adam’s apple bobs as I swallow hard. If he were a woman, I’d understand the hard-on.
I’d ramp-up my flirting, and I’d have her number in a second flat. But I’m sitting here just fucking confused why my cock responded to him.
Did I find that noise attractive because I know it’s sexy by definition or because I’m attracted to the sound or to Oscar?
That mish-mashed thought has my brain bending like a fifteen-year-old gymnast.
Ride the swell.
I’m about to speak again, but Oscar actually entertains my earlier question. “I’m choosing to be quiet, so I can hear that argument.” He nods his chin in the direction of the stage.
Sure enough, Charlie and Tom’s conversation has ratcheted up in intensity. Tom places his hands on his head in exasperation.
My brows knit together. “You can hear them?”
“I can read lips…” Oscar pauses and then adds, “If I’m not distracted.”
Okay, point taken.
I lean back.
Oscar glances to me. “That wasn’t meant for you to shut up. I was just stating a fact.”
My lips quirk. “So you do like my questions?”
He shakes his head slowly, and a smile creeps over his mouth. “I didn’t say that, Long Beach.” Long Beach. His tone is sweeter with me when he uses that nickname.
It does something to my heartbeat.
“What’s going on with them then?” I wonder.
“Tom’s new drummer apparently ditched at the last minute. He’s fighting with Charlie over how to replace him before tonight’s gig.” Oscar looks me up and down. “So this is your friendly warning not to trash talk me across the room.”
“I did schedule a trash-talking for later this evening,” I say lightly. “I’ll let you know what time not to be there.”
“Oh I’ll be there,” he says into a grin. “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.”
My cheeks hurt from grinning like him. “Did you just call me a sunshine?”
“Fuck you, dude!” Tom screams, cutting into our banter. Our heads whip towards the Cobalt brothers. “You’re supposed to be here supporting me!”
“I am here to support you,” Charlie says, voice leveled but irritation sticks to each syllable. Oscar rises to his feet and approaches now, a hand flying to his earpiece.
I follow beside him.
“But if that means biting my tongue when your ideas are bullshit,” Charlie adds exhaustedly, “then that’s where my support ends.”
When Tom sees us approaching, his eyes latch to mine. “Thank you. Jack, can you please tell my brother it’s fine if I get someone from Craigslist to fill the drums for one night.”
“Don’t answer that,” Oscar tells me under his breath.
I wasn’t going to. “What are the other alternatives?” I ask.
Charlie sighs heavily. “Yes, let’s hear the other fantastic ideas, you’ve come up with.”