His face heats up. From the wine. “I don’t know about amazing—”
“It is absolutely amazing,” Charlie corrects. There’s something about the tone of his voice that makes Dev imagine Charlie’s mouth against his throat. He crosses his legs on the bed.
“Charlie said you want me to get your script to an agent?”
“Charlie misspoke. It wouldn’t be professional for me to hit up our star’s publicist for networking help.” Of course, it would hardly be the least professional thing he’s done recently. He doesn’t look over at Charlie sprawled out on the bed. “Besides, it’s a queer rom com.”
Parisa looks unaffected. “I’m queer. I like rom coms.”
“No, I mean, at best, we get like one studio queer movie a year if we’re lucky, and they’re usually about two white people. My movie is not marketable, and I don’t want to waste your time.”
Dev can feel Charlie’s eyes on the side of his face, can almost sense the way he wants to argue but doesn’t. Parisa just shrugs.
“All right, friends,” Jules announces, passing Dev the wine bottle. “I’ve got to get up early tomorrow for a production meeting, so I should probably head back to my room.”
“Boo!” Parisa shouts after Jules as she heads out.
“And I’m getting in the shower,” Charlie says, rolling off the bed and stumbling exhaustedly toward the bathroom.
“Double boo!”
Neither Dev nor Parisa move off Charlie’s bed, probably because they both understand you don’t leave half a bottle of wine at the end of the night. Dev tops off his cup and passes Parisa the rest.
Parisa waits until they hear the sound of the shower running before she speaks. “Thanks for doing this for him.”
“Yeah. Of course, he’s…” Dev awkwardly peels back the lip on his paper cup. “It’s his birthday.”
“Yeah,” Parisa says with an understanding nod. “He’s pretty special.”
“You and Charlie. Have you ever…？”
Parisa immediately catches his meaning. “No. Never. It’s not like that with us.”
He looks at this beautiful, confident, self-possessed woman who clearly recognizes how amazing Charlie is, just as he is. “Can I ask why?”
Parisa crosses her legs and tucks the bottle of wine between them. “I mean, I’ve thought about it. I have eyes, and when we first met, before he hired me, I thought… maybe.”
“Why didn’t maybe happen?”
“Because he’s Charlie. Because maybe never even occurred to him,” Parisa says matter-of-factly. “And I’m glad. The dude is a great friend, but he’d be a disaster of a boyfriend. He doesn’t know the first thing about how to be in a relationship.”
“Why did you send him on this show, then? Were you actively trying to humiliate him?”
“Of course not. He wants to work in tech again, and I want him to be happy. Maureen Scott promised she could help reboot his image, so…” Parisa’s eyes cut toward the closed bathroom door, and she lowers her voice. “If I tell you something, can you promise it stays between us?”
Dev nods.
“This spring, one of my cousins got married, and Charlie went with me to the wedding as my plus-one. My Pinterest-obsessed cousin decides to have the only Muslim wedding with a signature cocktail, and it turns out Charlie loves blackberry mojitos. He chugged, like, six of them, and you have to understand, when Charlie gets drunk—”
“Oh, I’ve met Drunk Charlie, actually.”