“I know,” I start out, “you think you’re not a good brother, Os.” Our eyes lock for a strong beat. “But you were right to take care of yourself and go to Yale. You were right to figure out what you wanted and who you are, and Quinn is right to feel how he feels. And I hope now that he’s opened up and you know he was bullied, therapy will be better for you both.” I flash a warm smile. “I believe in the Oliveira brothers.”
Oscar sniffs, then says, “Do me a favor, Highland.” He grabs a water bottle. “Next time you give me a pep talk, warn me so I don’t choke on popcorn.”
We laugh.
He wipes his mouth with his bicep and nods. “I believe in the Oliveira brothers too.”
I slide an arm around his waist. His ankle brushes mine as they hang in the nighttime air, and it’s calming. Being with Oscar in a city. Even after a chaotic night—no,especiallyafter a chaotic night.
“I asked Charlie if he’d even want me to air footage from Vienna,” I admit to Oscar after I swallow a handful of sweet kettle corn.
“The footage from the elevator?” he asks.
“Yeah.” I nod.
“Let me guess, he said,yes, air it.”
Oscar would guess right. I nod with a short breath. “Yeah. His exact words,show it if you want. I don’t care.” I shake my head, conflicted. “I’m not sure he wants people to relate to him or even see him in a vulnerable state. He’s not doing this for himself. He’d be doing it for me.”
And again, it feels…wrong.
“You want him to say,I need this,” Oscar realizes.
“Yeah.” I look to him. “I love being a part ofWe Are Callowaybecause I’m able to help magnify peoples’ truths that are usually drowned out with hate, but this pilot, this show, doesn’t feel like it’s purpose is for anything other than my ambition.”
“Is that so bad?” Oscar wonders. “You don’t have to give up on it.”
I study the hard lines around his eyes. I slide him a warmer smile. “What are you, scared to see me fail?”
“Yeah, I am.” His grin is a shadow that concern overtakes. “It feels like you’re trapped in your own elevator tonight, and I don’t know how to help you out of it.”
Looking into him, Oscar looking into me—I feel like I’m paddling out and about to stand up on my board. Failure isn’t as destructive as I thought it’d be. Because regardless of what happens, he’s not going anywhere.
“I have you, don’t I?” I breathe.
“That’s not even a question, Long Beach.”
So what’s there to be afraid of?
His large hand encases my jaw, and I clasp the crook of his neck. Our lips skim, waiting out a longing kiss.
“Don’t make a decision yet,” Oscar whispers. “Sleep on it.”
“As long as you’re in my bed,” I smile against his lips.
He grins back. “Oh, I’ll be there. Don’t you worry, meu raio de sol.”
In this moment with Oscar, worry is so far away.
42
OSCAR OLIVEIRA
“You sureyou want to do that?” Charlie asks, watching me move the rook. Finger to his temple, he studies my play.
“Yeah, pretty certain I do.”
Charlie paid for a public garden conservatory to close for a private event.
