Then he turns on the heel of his Converse high-tops and storms out of the restaurant.
Charlie
He watches Dev stomp past the baby grand piano attempting to drown out the previous fight with calming music. The business brunchers either turn to glare at Dev or turn away, embarrassed, pretending not to notice the absurdly tall, absurdly skinny man in the absurdly oversize jean jacket throwing a fit.
“What the hell was that?” Josh snaps.
Charlie swivels back to face him and feels the anxiety grind through his lower intestines alongside the ever-expanding lump of something caught in his throat, tennis ball size now. Ever since he got the texts from Josh yesterday, he’s been sick over the thought of seeing this man again—his former dorm mate, his former best friend, his former business partner. The man whose opinion and esteem he always held in the highest regard.
The thought of seeing Josh again was overwhelming, but this is what he wants. A chance to work in tech again. It was all for this. The potential national humiliation, the cameras and kissing women and hot-air balloons and so much damn touching all boils down to this. Now he stares at Josh across the table in this lavish restaurant, and suddenly, he can’t even remember what he liked about his old life.
Except that he liked how the work was a shield against living—he liked how the world inside his glass-and-chrome office kept him from thinking about the world outside of it where he felt alienated and disconnected. He liked how the productivity made him feel worthy, and he liked how being busy never left him time to think. He liked how the twentieth-floor apartment made him successful in the eyes of other people; it meant the measure of his life was something, even if beneath the surface, everything felt empty. That is what he lost. That is what he is fighting to get back. Glittering nothing.
“I cannot believe I just got chewed out by someone who works in reality television.” Josh angrily reaches for Dev’s untouched Bloody Mary. “What even was that, Chaz?”
Maybe it’s the way he dismisses Dev, or maybe it’s the sound of the old, ironic nickname for him, but the clog in Charlie’s throat now feels like certainty. “Sorry, but I have to go.” He rises and nearly upends the table with his knees. “Actually, no, I’m not sorry. I’m just going.”
“Wait. You’re leaving?” Josh asks even as Charlie’s already moving away from the table. “But what about this app? We could really use your help.”
He doesn’t look back. “I’m going to pass.”
He’s outside where the fog has cleared, and he blinks in the sun until he sees Dev leaning against the building, staring down at his phone like a sullen teenager. At the sound of Charlie’s footsteps, though, he looks up. His violin eyes are almost molten amber in this light, and the sun hits his cheekbones, the sharp point of his chin. Charlie feels so absolutely certain.
Dev frowns. “I know, I know. I screwed up. I shouldn’t have lost my temper, but he was a dick to you, and I couldn’t just—”
Charlie takes three steps toward him, fists the front of his jean jacket, shoves him back against the wall, and swallows the rest of Dev’s sentence. He tries to kiss him with the sureness he feels blossoming inside him, new feelings he’s only beginning to understand, still fumbling to process. It’s Josh always laughing at him and Dev always laughing with him. It’s the difference between a twentieth-floor apartment and a house in Venice Beach. It’s the dawning realization that Charlie could spend the rest of his life grabbing Dev by the front of the jean jacket and kissing him against every brick wall.
Charlie knows he loves him. He knows he would choose him if he could. But until now, he hasn’t really let himself consider what choosing Dev would mean. A life together. A future. Dev in his bed from now until forever. His brain can barely fathom it. He’s always been alone, has always been prepared to be alone, has no idea how you build your world around someone else or with someone else or what that even means. But he knows, in the back of his throat, in the pit of his stomach, in the consistent pumping of his heart that a life with Dev would be a glittering something.