Page 189 of Charming Like Us

I promised, like always, to keep the secret.

Hugging her another time, I tell Luna, “Remember, we don’t have to air anything, if you don’t want to.” I’m referring to our talk about the nightclubs.

“When do I have to make a decision by?” She crumples the tissue.

“No deadline.”

If she wants it in the show, it’ll appear in the upcoming season. If she doesn’t, I’ll be the only person that ever sees this footage.

“Thanks, Jack.” She tugs the string of her hoodie.

I stand and hook the strap of my bag over my shoulder. “Do you want me to call someone? Tom, Eliot, your older brother, maybe?”

She shakes her head. “I think I’m just gonna hang out alone for a little bit.”

“Will I see you at the carnival later?”

H.M.C. Philanthropies is hosting a Carnival Fundraiser tonight, and I’m supposed to be filming Charlie there forBorn into Fame.It already started about an hour ago, so Jesse’s at the carnival in my place.

She nods. “I’m gonna stop by. I don’t want to miss the Gravitron.”

That eases me a bit. It’ll be good for Luna to be around family.

“See you then.” I take the spiral staircase to the bottom floor. Her bodyguard is the only person here. Quinn Oliveira sits in the red vinyl booth by a window, scrolling through his phone. He glances up when I’m about a foot away.

“She ready?”

I shake my head. “She wants to be alone.” I readjust the bag as it slips off my shoulder. “How’s the therapy going with Oscar?”

He makes a noise that sounds a lot like a sigh and a snort crossed together. “He didn’t tell you?”

“He’s told me some,” I admit. “You guys don’t talk during the sessions. Has that changed?”

Quinn messes with a saltshaker. “Why would it?”

I shrug with a warm smile. “Maybe the therapist broke through?”

Quinn narrows his eyes at me. “I know what you’re doing, Jack. You can pretend to be nice and act like we’re friends, but it’s not working.”

Alright then. “Quinn,” I say. “I’m generally nice to everyone, and I know we’re not friends. But if you don’t want to talk, that’s cool.”

“I don’t.”

“Fine,” I say into a tight nod. “I’ll see you at the carnival.”

38

OSCAR OLIVEIRA

This ismy least favorite kind of carnival: ones that resemble state fairs with Ferris wheels, carousels, funhouses, and milk bottle games for entertainment.

Nothing really beats Carnaval in Brazil, a celebration that marks the beginning of Lent. The blocos alone are out of this world. Bouncing from one bloco to the next, each with different themes, music, and signature styles. Polka-dots, masks, ribbons. I’ve only been a couple times, but they’re still some of my favorite memories. Doused in glitter, sometimes wearing costumes, drinking and dancing the night away. There’s nothing like it.

Maybe one day I can take Jack.

That thought does a number on me. Because here I’m thinking about the future when we can barely scrape together what we arenow.

A gust of funnel cake wafts in my direction. The heavenly, powder-sugary smell floods my senses. Changed my mind, I don’t hate this kind of carnival because I dolovetheir food. It’s the eat-on-the-go goodness that my body craves.