Page 103 of Charming Like Us

I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. I wish I could ask Farrow for advice. He’s the “relationship guy”—the one who establishes boundaries up front before hopping into bed. He won’t even sleep withsomeone unless there is potential for anactualrelationship.

And look at me with this flimsy “no sex” declaration. I already jumped way past first base with the guy.

Don’t beat yourself up, Oliveira.

I exhale a rougher breath.

Jack is complicated. He started off questioning. This was never going to besimple.And I want to believe that he’s willing to be in a relationship, but it can’t be easy for him to rewrite the story he envisioned for so long.

He’s used to sticking to his life’s script. And that’s it.

“You still want to do Woody’s for dinner?” Farrow asks me, thankfully not giving me a hard time even though he can tell something’s up. “Donnelly said he’d meet us.”

“Yeah, for sure.” I’m too in my feelings, so I focus on downing the rest of the Cheeto dust, and I tell Gabe to go home.

The trainee ends the run with sweat streaming down his jaw. “Really?” he pants, out of breath. “I can go another ten.”

I take it back. Tweedledum isn’t so bad.

“Go home,” I say again. “I’ll see you again tomorrow morning.” I’m squeezing in a comms lesson before the start of the day.

“Thanks, Oscar.” He heads towards the showers.

“He’s huge,” Farrow says.

“But fast.”

Farrow whistles and looks back at Gabe “No shit.”

Maximoff makes a face at Farrow like he just cat-called another guy.

I laugh.

“Shit,” Farrow says between his teeth, but he’s smiling. They’re both territorial motherfuckers.

I elbow his arm. “Wanna bet that Kitsuwon’s going to fight over the temp for Sulli’s detail?” Akara always puts the best temps on her whenever Banks is unavailable.

“No. Because I don’t want to lose a bet.”

Smart, Redford.

“Found it!” Maximoff calls out, showing us his brother’s phone. Ripley reaches up for the cell.

Before we leave the gym, Farrow says to me, “We have to drop off the phone, and then we’re grabbing the furball before we head out to Woody’s.”The furballis their weird Newfoundland puppy. Arkham thinks a pint-sized bird is a pterodactyl.

“Sounds good.” I sling my gym bag on my shoulder. “See you there.”

We split apart, and I forget to ask Farrow about the ancient camcorder he gave Jack.

I end up at the cheesesteak restaurant alone and climb up the rickety wooden deck. Chipped, old red paint on a plank overhead readsWoody’s.The place is mostly outdoors with picnic tables along the deck, and the order-at-the-counter station is inside. The mouth-watering scent of grilled meat floods my senses.

God, I’m hungry.

The downside: Woody’s is packed tonight. People spill onto the street, and since I have to order first, then hunt down a table, I just wait on the deck for Farrow, Maximoff, and Donnelly.

I rest my arms on the wood railing, phone in my hand.

Alone.