“That’s... supportive,” Charlie says, not sounding too sure about it.
“They actually are supportive. Always have been. My niece is out to everyone. I’m well-adjusted about this one thing and only this one thing.”
Charlie doesn’t say anything about his own situation. Simon knocks his knee against Charlie’s.
“It’s a good video,” Charlie says.
“Good camera work,” Simon agrees.
“She usually does eye makeup tutorials. Go figure.”
“Jamie loves those.” Simon realizes that Jamie probably saw this yesterday and didn’t tell him when they talked.
Simon:were you not going to tell me that I’m internet famous?
Jamie:you’re famous-famous you total dork
Simon:TikTok young people love me
Jamie:you have a fucking emmy
Simon:the youths, though
Jamie:Simon Devereaux are you GIDDY?
Simon’s smiling at his phone, and when he looks up, he finds Charlie watching him. “Jamie,” he explains.
They sit there for a while, and Simon knows he has to say something because this is one of those silences that has edges, even though he doesn’t know exactly why.
“What I want to know,” Simon says, “is whether you bribed Laura from craft services to hide the blueberry muffins from me.” He’s been thinking about this since yesterday when Charlie said he knows Simon likes them—which, honestly, is exactly the kind of appalling thing Charlie Blakewouldthink was appropriate dirty talk. His brain’s put together a photo montage of all the times Charlie smugly ate one of those muffins right in front of Simon’s face.
Charlie lets out a boom of laughter. “In my defense, they taste so much better when I know you don’t have one.”
“You are so fucking petty.”
“Only to you.”
There’s no sane reason this should please Simon, but here he is, pleased. “I had no idea Laura could be bought.”
“It’s not her, I swear. The supplier started only sending a few every day, so I made sure to swing by early enough to snag one.”
“One,” Simon repeats, skeptical.
“Okay, four, but I gave three away. I didn’t eat them all myself.”
“And you waited to eat your muffin until you were in front of me?”
“Yup.”
“That is so twisted,” Simon says, and so what if it comes out fond.
Things happen fast once they get back to the motel room, and that’s probably Simon’s fault. He has Charlie stripped to the waist as soon as the door’s shut. He doesn’t think he’s getting this wrong, because all day long Charlie’s been giving him these looks like he wants to eat Simon alive.
“What do you want?” Charlie asks, mumbling the words into Simon’s neck as he works open the buttons on Simon’s jeans.
“Well,” Simon says. If this is the last chance Simon gets to have Charlie, he’s not wasting it. They’re driving back to Los Angeles tomorrow and normal rules will be back in effect.
Charlie pauses, his hands still on Simon’s buttons. “Well?”
