The Charm Offensive(62)

The hike out is perfect, all breathtaking vistas and Dev’s hand snug in his. The hike back to the cable car is less great. When the sun starts to go down, the temperature drops considerably, and Dev gets hungry, and then tired, and then plagued by foot pain.

“I told you not to wear flip-flops.”

Dev collapses onto a rock. “I know, goddamn you!” He screams in agony, takes off a shoe, and throws it into a king protea bush.

“Okay, you are not Reese Witherspoon in Wild.”

“I mean, we have similar cheekbones.”

Charlie hunts down the rogue flip-flop and puts it on Dev’s foot like Dev is a very cranky Cinderella. “I’m sorry I’ve planned such a terrible practice date and that you’re so miserable.” Dev rolls his eyes. “Now, come on. I’ll carry you. Climb on my back.”

“I’m not a child, Charlie.”

“No, you are a grown man having a temper tantrum and throwing your flip-flops at innocent flowers.”

“I have blisters!”

“Yes, I know, sweetheart. Come on.”

Dev consents to be carried half a mile back to the cable car, at least until they’re around other people again, his hipbones stabbing into Charlie’s back, legs wrapped around his waist like the sleeves of his sweater, chin on his shoulder.

“This isn’t a terrible date,” Dev says into his ear. And maybe it’s because they can’t see each other’s faces, but Dev takes a sharp breath. “It’s maybe the best date I’ve ever had.”



* * *



They promised to meet up with Parisa and Jules for dinner at a Caribbean restaurant called Banana Jam Cafe. When they arrive, Jules and Parisa are already there, lounging on a patio under a red umbrella, enjoying their second round of Jam Jars, which have turned their tongues electric pink.

“What did you boys get up to today?” Parisa asks, putting her feet in Charlie’s lap as soon as he sits down.

“Charlie carried me down a mountain.”

“Not down. More… across.”

“Heroic and manly nonetheless.”

“The two words my father most often used to describe me.”

They order too much food and consume too many pink alcoholic drinks, and Charlie tries to pay attention to the story Parisa is telling about her misadventures with Jules exploring the other side of Cape Town, but Dev is here, and he said their date was the best he’s ever had, and Charlie is struggling to focus on anything else.

“So, do you want to go?” Jules is saying. To him, it would seem.

“Go where?”

“To the party tonight,” Jules clearly repeats. “The one we just told you about. We ran into those guys who are here filming some movie about pirates, and they invited us.”

“I’ve decided it’s a good networking opportunity for Julesies,” Parisa says, “who is way too brilliant to still be working as a PA.”

Jules beams at Parisa.

“You in?”

The last thing Charlie wants to do is sit in a hotel room while a bunch of Hollywood dude-bros get high and hit on Jules and Parisa, where he won’t be allowed to touch Dev for another several hours. “I think not. I’m pretty tired.”

“Dev?” Jules asks, shooting him a look that’s half optimism, half already-accepted defeat. “Do you want to come to the party with us?”

“I have foot blisters. Horrible, monstrous lesions on my feet. Pustules, Jules, and I can’t—”

“Enough. I get it. You’re both losers.”

“Such losers,” Parisa says, nudging Charlie’s stomach with her toe. “We’re going to this party, and we’re going to be out all night, and you’re going to sit in our hotel suite, all alone, just the two of you, watching The Expanse.”

Parisa winks at him, and the implication lands. They’ll have the suite to themselves. For hours.

Dev will be in their room, in their bed, and Charlie will be allowed to touch him in whatever way Dev wants. He looks over at Dev, who swallows dramatically as soon as their eyes meet, and Charlie remembers his forgotten fantasy of tracing the distance from Dev’s mouth to the hidden parts of him.

Fun fact: in South Africa, servers will never bring you the bill unless you ask for it, so you’re allowed to remain at a restaurant for as long as you want.

Charlie asks for the bill.





Dev


They don’t touch at all in the Uber, because Jules is sitting between them, with Parisa in the front, drunkenly flirting with their driver. And they don’t touch in the elevator, and they don’t touch once they’re in the hotel room, sitting on opposite ends of the couch while Jules and Parisa change their clothes and pregame with a bottle of chenin blanc. Even when the hotel door clicks shut behind them—Parisa giving one last suggestive wave that seems to imply she’s not quite as oblivious as Jules—they still don’t touch.

So Dev cues up the next episode of The Expanse on his laptop for some ungodly reason, and Charlie’s sitting three feet away, watching the beautiful man on the computer screen like he really does only care about the science. On the one hand: good. Dev’s already let this thing with Charlie go too far, but there’s a distinct difference between kissing the star of their show and having sex with the star of their show, and one will sound distinctly worse when it’s reported by the gossip bloggers, who will use Dev’s actions as further proof of Ever After’s inherent immorality.