“Wow.” I sat up straight and stared at him in awe. I couldn’t imagine that kind of confrontational interaction—God, it gave me anxiety just thinking about it—but I respected Charlie’s ability to not care about other people’s feelings.
I mean, I might be able to daydream about that kind of honesty, but when it came down to it, I just didn’t like making people unhappy. I wanted my mom—and my dad, when he remembered I existed—to be happy and I wanted to be the one to make them happy.
Rocking the boat might feel good for about five seconds, but I knew myself well enough to know that the guilt that followed would be unbearable. I said, “I cannot believe you say those things.”
“It isn’t received well.” He took a bite of his overstuffed burger and looked at the two girls behind me. “But it’s the truth.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re kind of my hero.” I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms, studying him. I could actually picture him saying those words, and something about it made me sad for him, even as I respected his ballsiness.
That made his mouth turn up into a snarky half smile as he wiped his hands on his napkin. “And you don’t even like me.”
“I know.” I couldn’t stop my smile—his mischievous ones were contagious—and I shook my head. “But this is revolutionary stuff. Can I live vicariously through you?”
“Why be vicarious? Burn some cities down with your own rage.” He took another bite of his hamburger.
“Yeah, um… no.” I took a sip of my chocolate malt, wishing I could be gutsy enough for honesty. I wanted to, I really did, but there was no doubt I would remain nonconfrontational. I stirred my drink with the straw and said, “I don’t think it helps with anything.”
He dropped the rest of his burger onto his plate, like he was finished. “It makes you feel better.”
“But does it?” I thought back to the way Charlie had been each time I met him. “I don’t see you rolling in happiness with the freedom that your words have given you.”
“Maybe I am on the inside,” he quipped, wiping his hands before dropping his napkin onto his plate.
“Really?” I dipped a fry into the pile of ketchup.
“Chicks dig my churlishness.” He reached over and stole one of my fries, batting my fry out of the way so he could drench his stolen one in ketchup first. Oddly enough, there was something about the way he behaved as if we were actual friends that made me interested in learning more about him. “I wouldn’t want to screw that up with happiness.”
I gave him a very unladylike snort. “I don’t think it’s quite as appealing as you think it is.”
“Oh, come on,” he said, his eyes sparking like he wanted to grin as he chewed. “The first time we met, when you were all owl-eyed and brace-faced, you didn’t fall a little under the Charlie spell?”
I shook my head, remembering how much he’d irritated me. “I definitely did not.”
“Seriously?” His eyebrows scrunched together, and he looked at me like I’d confessed to being an alien.
Which made me want to laugh, because how could he be so unaware of what a total jackass he’d been? I said, “Why is that so hard for you to believe?”
“Because I’m rakishly charming,” he replied, although the slight tilt of his mouth told me he wasn’t wholly serious.
“Oh, is that what you are?” I said, exhaling around a laugh. “I guess I missed that.”
He barked out a quick chuckle, and for a minute it was great. For that brief, fleeting moment, it was nice with us. And then he said, “Wait. I’m not hitting on you.”
“Oh my God—gross.” I shook my head as the annoyance returned. Why did he feel the need to say things like that? Still the same Mr. Nothing. I said emphatically, “I know.”
“Okay, good.” He pushed his plate toward the center of the table and added, “And I second the gross.”
I couldn’t believe his nerve; not just the gross comment, but the overall disclaimer that he wasn’t hitting on me. “Why would you even say—”
“I don’t know.” He held up a hand to stop me from talking, then raised the other one as well. “I’m pretty sure no two people have ever been as disinterested in each other as we are, but I just wanted to make sure.”
“Oh, I can definitely confirm.” I thought back to the Fairbanks airport and said, “Honestly—the first time we met, I was in awe of how irritating you were. Like, I don’t think I knew just how obnoxious a person could be before that day.”
“Same,” he said, nodding in agreement.
“What?” I narrowed my eyes at him. I hadn’t been remotely obnoxious that day. If anything, I’d been a pathetically quiet little mouse. “I wasn’t irritating.”
He moved his straw around in his cup and said with a feigned scowl, “You wouldn’t let me cut in line because of rules. Irritating as fuck.”
I was about to explain to Charlie how there was nothing the least bit irritating about following the rules when Nekesa interrupted, appearing beside our table with Theo. “Hey! Guess what? Mr. Cleveland sat with us at lunch, and when Theo told him he’s majoring in accounting next year, good old Cleves transferred him to Protostar. So he’s on our team now too.”
I looked up at the two of them and was mildly annoyed by this news. Theo seemed fine, but Nekesa and I had taken the job together—as a team—and his presence was really messing with the vibe.
“Wow.” Charlie leaned back and stretched. “So you got upgraded? I got demoted to Protostars just because I said glitter was the devil’s calling card.”
Nekesa snorted. “You said that?”
“Respect.” Theo gave Charlie a slow grin of appreciation. “There was an entire section in the Red Giant handbook on the endless joy of glitter bombs. I can’t believe you actually said that out loud.”
“Listen to what you just said and tell me I’m wrong.” Charlie crossed his arms over his chest. “？‘Endless joy of glitter bombs’—are they kidding with that?”
Charlie and Theo started talking between themselves, and I glanced at Nekesa. “Are you sure we shouldn’t quit and find normal jobs?”
“Normal sucks,” Nekesa said, and I got distracted for a second by Charlie and Theo. They were doing that whole low-talking, smart-ass grin-wearing thing guys did that usually equated to a conversation about breasts, and I rolled my eyes.
I just knew I wouldn’t approve of their conversation.
Nekesa reached down and grabbed my cup. “Can I have a sip?”
Charlie looked up from his conversation with Theo and said to Nekesa, “Only if you like a malt made with vanilla ice cream but only half a spoonful of malted and two squirts of chocolate syrup instead of three. And half whipped cream, no cherry.”
I hadn’t realized Charlie had heard my order at all, much less heard it and remembered every little detail. A part of me was impressed by his perfect recollection, but a bigger part of me was taken aback by the way he acted so familiar with me.