Charming Like Us (Like Us 7)

I come closer. “You okay?”

He nods, and then a second later shakes his head. “I swear he’s the nicest person to everyone but me. He plays with kittens and puppies like he’s a gold-hearted boy next door, won’t utter a curse word in front of a child, and paradoxically, he can punch a motherfucker in a ring like no one I’ve ever seen.” He shakes his head again in thought. “But somehow, I’m the only gum on his shoe he’s trying to scrape off. For…I don’t know how long. I thought we were fine when he first joined security.” He glances at me. “You know we requested to be separated to avoid in-fighting, and he was put on Jane’s detail in Philly while I was in New York. It was going fine too. We put the past to bed.”

The past? “Did you two duke it out over a girl or something?” I don’t know why that knots my chest.

His shoulders rise. “If we did, he can have the girl. I’d rather just have my brother.” He laughs at something.

“What?”

His eyes hit mine. “I just remembered, he slept with the girl I was sleeping with during the FanCon tour. I think it was a shot at me.”

“But that’s not the past beef?”

“I don’t know what is.”

I frown more. “So you have no idea what the core of the problem is between you two? Like, what you’re actually arguing about?”

“No idea,” he admits like he knows it’s insane. “Your guess is as good as mine, Highland. So when you figure it out, come talk to me.”

Damn, I want to make him feel better, but I don’t want to pump him up with niceties just to bolster his spirit. I do that all the time to people, and he’s one of the rare ones to call me out on it.

Hard truths, I go with it. “It might be the ten-year age gap between you two. It complicates sibling relationships. Makes it harder. We’re big brothers but also mentors and sometimes even father figures.”

Oscar lets out a soft laugh. “I don’t think Quinn has ever seen me as a father figure. Joana, maybe. Not Quinn.” He looks me over. “You good with your brother? He’s ten years younger, right?”

“Jesse,” I say into a nod. “And yeah, we’re good.”

“That’s good,” Oscar says, watching Charlie. “Don’t lose that. It hurts when it’s gone.” He sucks in a heavy breath and almost rolls his eyes. “You’re scarily easy to talk to, you know that?”

“Yeah, it’s a gift and a curse. Getting stuck talking to old ladies on Passyunk while I wait for a cheesesteak is my typical Saturday.”

He laughs. “And then I suddenly remember you’re from Long Beach, Long Beach.”

I smile back. “What gave me away?”

“For one, it’s pronounced pash-yunk not pass-ee-unk. And South Philly guys might yell at me for this one, but cheesesteaks on Passyunk are garbage.”

I face him more. “I’ve lived in Philly for years, and they’re good there.”

He shakes his head vigorously. “Noooo.”

“Come on.” Smiling, I smack his chest with the back of my hand, and the collision of my hand to his body causes both of us to tense like I shot magma in our veins. I don’t move though. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

“Show you…what?” Oscar asks.

I run a hand through my hair. Do you still want to kiss me? “The best place to—” I cut myself off as Charlie bounds over.

We pull apart and return to a professional stasis. Working, both of us.

“I just called an Uber,” Charlie tells Oscar, but I zero in on the thick bound manuscript in his hand.

“What’s that?” I ask him and follow his footsteps as he pushes into the concert venue’s lobby, ticket windows and food concessions in view.

His pace is quick like he wants to GTFO now. But the energy that he emits feels more like he’s running from something rather than towards something.

Oscar is quick to bypass Charlie so he can lead.

“Luna’s fanfic,” Charlie answers me. “She says people online are giving her shit for some minor grammar mistakes, and she needs someone to edit it.”

“You agreed?”

“You ask a lot of questions, Jack,” Charlie says. His heeled boots clap against the hallway floor.

Oscar looks back with a smile. “That’s what I said.”

I’m more amused than offended. “It’s literally my job to ask questions.”

“Touché,” Charlie breathes. “She asked. I said yes. And it’d be easier to edit it on my phone, but we live in a world where little shitheads would love to hack my computer.” Luna’s fanfic username is only known to her family and security.

I actually don’t have access to it.

The world would tear her apart for what she writes. Criticize every microscopic word. Everyone knows it, and I bet that’s a reason why security is so highly protective of Luna.