“Can we get four of your house margaritas and a round of tequila shots?” Dev asks the server.
Jules rubs her hands together, getting down to business. “Okay, Dev. Let’s find you a man.”
Charlie’s stomach folds in half.
“A man?” Skylar asks.
“Dev is finally ready for his post-Ryan rebound. We are on the prowl for a one-night-stand candidate. Oh, how about that Joe Alwyn–looking dude by the bar?”
The server deposits the drinks on the table. Charlie doesn’t reach for his shot. He was stupid, so stupid to think Dev might—
“A one-night stand? Dev?” Skylar snorts after she’s thrown back both her own shot and Charlie’s. “Mr. Happily Ever After? I doubt it.”
Dev is immediately defensive. “There is nothing wrong with believing in happy endings.”
“Isn’t there, though, when statistically, you know half of those endings are actually divorce?” Jules sucks on a lime. “Shouldn’t orchestrating love stories for our crappy show spoil the magic for you a bit?”
“No! Never!” Dev is ridiculously cute when he’s passionate. Charlie stares down at his coaster. “Look, I know in real life relationships are complicated, but on our show they’re not. It’s as simple as two people liking each other enough to try. And then we put them on a boat in St. Thomas, and they fall in love, because who can resist falling in love on a boat?”
Skylar snorts again, but Dev plows on. “The situations are dramatized, sure, and the emotions are heightened to the point of absurdity for ratings, and in most cases, people don’t fall in love in two months. But sometimes they do! Sometimes, you meet someone, and you just know. That happens on our show two seasons per year! How is that not magic?”
Skylar grins. “Tell me again how you’re looking for a one-night stand?”
Dev flips her off across the table. “Charlie, why aren’t you drinking?”
He wasn’t ready for anyone to address him, so he stumbles through some vowel sounds in response to Dev’s question.
Dev puts a hand on Charlie’s knee under the table and leans in close. “Let go a little. You’re safe with us.”
He doesn’t feel safe. He feels exposed and ridiculous, even though no one knows how profoundly disappointed he is. And it’s all so silly, because of course Dev wanted to go out tonight so he could flirt with other men. Whatever weird friendship they’ve formed is friendship at best, and Dev being damn good at his job at worst. When this is over, they won’t stay in contact. Dev will be busy prepping the next princess and Charlie will hopefully be busy with his new job. Too busy to think about repressed feelings or Dev’s mouth.
Besides, Charlie wants Dev to find someone else. Maybe if he sees Dev with someone else, he’ll stop picturing Dev with him.
Dev’s hand is still on Charlie’s knee when he flags down the server again. More shots land on the table. Dev’s fingers fall away. “Charlie, can I see your hand for a minute?”
“My hand?”
Dev’s fingers, cooled from his margarita, slip around Charlie’s wrist, and then Dev is bringing Charlie’s hand up to his mouth. For a fraction of a second, he thinks Dev is going to kiss his hand, like a noble prince in one of the fairy tales he loves so much.
Dev licks Charlie’s hand instead. Dev’s tongue. The side of Charlie’s hand. Saliva and germs and Dev’s tongue. That’s all it takes for Charlie’s whole body to go rigid. Then he’s thinking about the bathroom, Dev’s arm around his shoulders, Charlie’s hand pressed into the small of his back, Dev hard against his hipbone. There’s an ache in the back of his throat, and he can barely focus on the salt being poured along his hand, Dev forcing him to lick the salt, Dev positioning the shot glass against his lips.