“Three,” he attempts to barter.
“Six.”
“Five?”
Dev’s smile widens. “Okay, five. But I get to choose which five.”
“Deal.”
Dev pushes away from the edge of the counter. “You should probably get some sleep.” He steps into Charlie’s reach and lifts a hand, and for one fleeting, foolish moment, Charlie thinks Dev is about to cup his cheek. Which would have been weird. And unwanted, obviously. Instead, he ruffles Charlie’s hair, the way an affectionate older brother might. The way Charlie’s actual older brothers never did.
“Good night, Charlie,” Dev says as he walks out of the bathroom.
“Good night, Dev.”
Dev
“They have to collect frogs and kiss them?” Charlie asks, horrified, as they wait for the contestant handler to prep the women across the field. “Who even comes up with these Group Quest ideas?”
“Sadistic misogynists in preproduction,” Jules answers, “and this one has an added layer of animal cruelty.”
Cynics, the pair of them. “I think the Frog Actors Guild ensures safe working conditions.”
“Well, I heard the show was casting toads to work around the frog union rules,” Charlie teases. Because teasing is something he does now, thanks to the wonders of practice dating. Dev reaches over to tousle Charlie’s hair slightly, so it falls over his forehead. “Just go make your meaningful connections with five women like we rehearsed.”
Filled with dread, Charlie does a slow march across the field they’ve stocked with frogs, and he turns his head over his shoulder to look back at Dev like a nervous child being forced to go play with kids his own age. Dev can picture little Charlie being that kid—the kid who begged to stay inside with the teacher at recess, the kid who tried to hang out with the grown-ups at birthday parties, assuming little Charlie got invited to any birthday parties. Little Charlie, always looking over his shoulder for a way out.
“You two seem to be getting close,” Jules observes as they watch Charlie join a small cluster of women.
“Thanks to your plan. And he’s not so bad to hang out with. He’s kind of… sweet.”
Jules cocks her head to stare up at him.
“What?”
Jules shrugs. “Nothing.”
Dev rakes his hands over his three-day stubble. “He’ll open up a bit when we’re alone, and he’s doing better for the cameras, but I’m not sure it’s enough.” Charlie grows more comfortable with the women every day, but he’s still holding back, still holding his breath. It makes Dev feel itchy and restless. “I still don’t know what he’s looking for in a woman, or how to make him fall in love.”
“You’re doing the best you can, Dev. You’ve got to make sure you’re taking care of yourself, too, yeah? It’s bad enough Maureen is making you stay at the guesthouse.” She reaches up to give his arm puppy scratches, which is the Jules Lu answer to all situations that require emotional intimacy. “Have you been sleeping?”
Across the field, Charlie smiles warmly as Daphne Reynolds shows him a frog. “I’ll sleep when Charlie Winshaw is engaged.”
* * *
“Isn’t it strange that they spend all this time preparing decadent food,” Daphne asks, “but we’re not allowed to eat any of it?”
Charlie stares down at his plate of risotto. “It does seem criminally wasteful,” he agrees, and they both shoot overt glances toward the cameras. “And I am a little hungry after that hot-air balloon ride.”