Misfits Like Us (Like Us #11)(59)

I’m trying to be a good friend to Eliot.

I’m paying my date to be here.

It’d be messy to kick him out.

Is that laziness? Or am I just so used to the status quo. I made my bed, and it’s easier to just lie on top of it than struggle untangling the sheets.

“Maybe he’s actually a cool guy,” I say with some lingering optimism. “Isn’t dating supposed to be about getting to know someone? It doesn’t have to be that intense.”

Moffy nods a few times, cracking his knuckles, and after we help scoot the extra chairs around the extended table, we all settle in our seats. I realize the older guys are all on one side, and Tom and I are on the other. Are they planning to interrogate our dates?

Is this an interview?

I feel sweaty and younger than I like. Just when I think they’re about to mention the absent parties—mainly, Donnelly and his mystery date—our heads swerve at an incoming presence.

Eliot has just arrived.

He strides over to us with born and bred confidence. His petite date is beside him. And so is Cody Lancaster. But it’s the small brunette girl at his side that steals everyone’s attention.

“Is that…?” Oscar says under his breath, but loud enough for most of us to hear.

“Yep, that’s Talia Simone,” Jack whispers back.

Talia Simone, also one of the world’s leading pop singers. She just ended her long-winded stint on a teen musical show, aging out of it at twenty-one. Her cutout dress is sexy with army-green fabric hugging her boobs, half her hip, and barely her ass.

She can’t be taller than five-foot, and next to my six-foot-four cousin, their height difference is supremely noticeable.

Eliot stops at our lounge chairs and extended table. “This is…unexpected…” Confusion knits his strong brows. He looks to me and Tom for clarification.

I assume Cody and Talia have been given NDAs, and I silently wonder if the bald-headed broody guy behind Talia is her security. With the mic in his ear and his intensely focused stare, I would say, yep.

Before anyone else can explain, I tell Eliot, “Moffy came to spy on me, so we pushed our tables together.”

“Guilty.” Moffy musters a dorky smile that draws my lips upward too.

Eliot nods, impressed. “From one older brother to another”—he looks to Moffy—“I’m taking notes.”

“RIP Audrey,” I whisper to Tom.

“Didn’t you hear?” Tom whispers back, “Cobalts never die.”

The phrase sends a hot wind across my face. Donnelly has those words tattooed on his knee.

Eliot pops open a notepad app on his phone and speaks dramatically into it. “Note: Remember to spy on little siblings if I don’t like their dates.”

Farrow raises his brows. “See, that’s what we’re not going to do.” My heart rate has jumped higher, even as I realize Farrow is speaking to Eliot, “This isn’t a good lesson to be learned here.”

“You’re just afraid we’ll spy on you next, Redford,” Oscar banters while digging into a bowl of baked kale. “And if you had a little sister, you’d know what’s up.”

Farrow cocks his head and pops a bubblegum bubble in his mouth. “Admit you’re here for the entertainment, Oliveira.”

“It’s a side benefit. Admit you’re entertained too, at least by the Husband.”

Farrow doesn’t deny. Amusement even flickers in his eyes. “Fair enough.”

Talia clears her throat. “Sorry to interject. But my security has an NDA—it’s a non-disclosure agreement—and I would love it if you all could sign one.”

The whole table goes quiet.

And then Oscar says, “The tables have turned.”

Everyone laughs, breaking apart some of the tension. Eliot and Talia take seats on my side, and Eliot introduces Cody to his brother.

“Tom,” Tom greets, shaking Cody’s hand. Very formal. Seems a little strained. Maybe from first introduction nerves. Cody has a pretty boy haircut and a clean-cut posh style that’d suit the streets of Manhattan.

Tom seems edgier in comparison, but that difference likely won’t stop Tom from getting to know him.

The bald bodyguard passes around a tablet that everyone digitally signs. I keep glancing at the door. Any day now, Korey will walk through.

Oscar crunches on a kale leaf and grimaces, “Ugh.” He spits it out into a napkin. “Disgusting, meu raio de sol.”

Jack laughs, a sucker in the corner of his mouth. “How did I not know you don’t like kale?”

“Kale chips. Because my intelligent ass usually stays away from rabbit food. Do I look like a rabbit?”

Farrow eyes the club’s entrance like he wishes Donnelly were here to respond in jabby humor to that one. His mouth downturns into a deep frown, and I feel that, too.

Jack grins brighter and more affectionately at his husband. “Here. Swig this, Os.” He puts a mojito in Oscar’s hand, who downs half the glass in one gulp, and then he kisses Jack’s temple.

Jack smiles even more.

With an arm around his husband, Oscar asks, “Out of all the appetizers, who ordered kale?”

Moffy’s neck is a little red. “Definitely not me.” He totally had to be the one. He rereads the menu like he fucked up a simple order.