The Charm Offensive(59)

Charlie rolls off of Dev to catch his breath. Dev pouts petulantly in response.

“I was thinking,” Charlie pants.

Dev pokes his ribs. “No thinking.”

“I was thinking… you know what we haven’t done in a while? Gone on a date. My skills are likely to atrophy at this rate.”

“You think you have skills?”

“I’m serious.” He sits up so he can look down at Dev, black hair matted and messy against a hotel comforter, glasses crooked on his nose. “Let me take you on a date tomorrow.”

“For practice, you mean?” Dev clarifies.

“Sure.” Charlie swallows down the lump forming in his throat. “For practice.”





Dev


He couldn’t say no to ten drunken seconds against a brick wall with Charlie Winshaw, and now Charlie’s staring at him with those earnest gray eyes like he thinks Dev has the willpower to say no to this. To a date with him.

“We have to film your confessionals first thing in the morning,” Dev says, impressed by his own professionalism, particularly in light of the fact that he had his hands up Charlie’s shirt two minutes ago. “You have to tell the cameras all about how you could see yourself falling in love in Cape Town.”

“Hmm,” is all Charlie says about that. “After confessionals, then.”

“I don’t—”

Charlie interrupts his new excuse by reaching for the sides of his face. Charlie kisses him again, and it feels so different than when they kissed in New Orleans. There’s no frenzy in it, no razor’s edge of panic cutting between their lips. No fear that at any minute the kissing could end. The kiss feels steadying, solid, like something Dev can lean against. Something that isn’t going to collapse beneath him.

Even though, rationally, he knows it will. He knows that wanting Charlie is self-destructive and stupid—that he’ll probably end up back in the dark, drowning place—but he wants him anyway.

“Okay. Yeah. A practice date,” Dev says when Charlie releases his mouth.

Charlie smiles, and Dev tries to hide the fact that he’s smiling, too.

Dev takes off his jeans and changes one T-shirt for another before he finally crawls into their massive bed. Charlie lies down stiff as a board on the opposite side. It feels like there’s an ocean of space between them. There’s been an ocean of space between them all week.

“Good night, Charlie,” Dev says as he clicks off the light beside the bed.

“Good night, Dev.”

Dev tries lying on his back, tries turning onto his side, tries not to think about how epically fucked this season truly is thanks to him. Tries not to think about Charlie five feet away.

“Are you asleep?” he asks into the dark.

“It’s been three minutes, so no.”

Dev twists and turns uncomfortably. “You know in Munich… when you sort of… held me?”

Charlie slides across the bed without further prompting. Dev can feel his body heat between the sheets as he gets closer. His solidity.

Charlie begins to gather Dev up and pull him up onto his chest. “Do you want to be on top?”

Dev opens his mouth to retort.

“Oh, shut up, I heard it,” Charlie snipes as he wraps his arms tighter around his shoulders.

“Are you blushing?”

Charlie doesn’t respond. Dev wishes he could see his face right now, but he settles for nuzzling himself into Charlie’s warm throat.

“And now you’re pretending to be asleep to escape your embarrassment.”

“Please, Dev,” Charlie says, but Dev can hear the smile in his voice, “just go to sleep.”

So Dev does. It’s the best sleep he’s had all season.



* * *



It’s winter here, fifty-five degrees with a cold breeze coming off the water, and early-morning clouds lingering over the mountain. Behind the clouds, though, Dev can see the sky is a perfect blue—as blue as the ocean, as crisp as the South African air, as beautiful as Charlie wearing a cowl-neck sweater and a pair of snug, dark-wash jeans.

“It’s not too late to go back for real shoes,” Charlie says as they climb into their Uber in front of the hotel. “We’re going to be walking a lot. Victoria and Alfred Waterfront, please,” he tells their driver. They’ve told the crew they’re going to an undisclosed location to spend the day planning the rest of Charlie’s romantic journey, and Dev has relinquished total control to Charlie to plan the entire (practice) date. So far, the date has only included Charlie being fussy about Dev’s flip-flops.

“I can walk in these.”

Charlie looks wholly unconvinced.

In his six years with Ever After, Dev’s circled the globe numerous times, visited a dozen Caribbean islands, put his toes in almost every ocean; he’s watched a proposal at sunrise over Machu Picchu, and he’s written confessions of love on six continents. Cape Town is somehow better than all of that, better than anywhere he’s ever been. The colors are brighter here, with Table Mountain rising massive above the city, and Dev is in love even before he discovers what bunny chow is.

He marvels at the metallic tray weighed down with curry. “It’s Indian food. Inside a bread bowl.”