Chapter Twenty
The next morning, Charlie’s already awake when Simon stumbles into the kitchen.
“It’s six in the morning your time,” Simon says. “What are you even doing.”
“I wake up early.” Charlie’s even wearing shoes.
They’re both used to early call times, but there’s something disgustingly responsible about waking up early on a day off. But—Charlie is responsible. After that first season, he never showed up late, never missed
a day. Simon thinks of Charlie asking whether he can pet Edie. He thinks of how Charlie drives, his meticulous parallel parking
and obsession with correct mirror orientation. He recalls that Charlie has a particular strategy for getting rid of people
who sleep at his house after parties. He remembers the party itself, which wasn’t boisterous and full of crime but instead
featured snacks from Trader Joe’s, carefully labeled as gluten-free or vegan.
Simon has personally witnessed Charlie put Alex in a headlock no fewer than twenty times, and seen Alex put Charlie in a headlock
at least twice as often. He’s been the irritated bystander of a years-long prank war Amadi and Charlie have been waging. Charlie
is loud and sometimes he’s . . . exuberant. He’s kind of a pest. But underneath all that is a core of something steady.
Charlie hands him a cup of coffee. “Drink this. I think you just fell asleep standing up. I already took Edie out.”
They stand there awkwardly in the kitchen for a minute, not touching, not talking, until Charlie clears his throat. “I’m going
for a run.”
By the time he gets back, Simon is maybe thirty percent awake. He’s dressed, at least. He wants to spend the day with his
face pressed into the microfiber of the sofa—he had too many emotions yesterday; it can’t be healthy—but Charlie probably
wants to do things.
Simon’s still figuring out how to explain that if Charlie wants to do anything fun, he’s on his own, because Simon doesn’t
participate in “fun” or “doing things,” when Charlie gets out of the shower and sits on the couch. Simon moves his feet about
four millimeters to give Charlie room, but Charlie just swears and hauls Simon’s legs onto his lap.
“What do you usually do?” Charlie asks.
“I go for a walk. I eat lunch. Sometimes I lie on the couch facing the other direction.” This is a lie: the other direction
is for feet, and Simon could never. “I’m full of surprises. Spontaneous.”
Simon sits up, as if demonstrating that he’s capable of movement, has a sip of the coffee that’s gone lukewarm on the end
table, and collapses back down. Charlie’s fiddling with the television remote, something it hasn’t occurred to Simon to figure
out since he can watch things on his laptop or phone.
“What episode were we on?” Charlie asks.
“We just finished the planet full of old people. Season four, episode . . . ten, maybe?” He watches as Charlie logs into the
streaming service. “I was mostly joking. We can go do things.”
“I just ran three miles, up and down the High Line. I want to sit. We’ll go out to lunch.”
“I like lunch.” That was all suspiciously easy. Obviously Charlie doesn’t depend on Simon for his entertainment. He’s twenty-seven
and rich and probably has a dozen friends in the city. He’s capable of getting off this couch and doing whatever he pleases.
“You’ve spent the past three weeks watching television and playing on your phone,” Charlie says as the Out There theme music plays. “I know you weren’t, like, at the club.”
Simon isn’t sure whether that’s supposed to be insulting or reassuring, but the episode starts and Simon gets distracted because
it’s one of his favorites. It’s the body-swap episode, which means he essentially got to play Alex’s character and spend the
episode authoritatively colluding with space pirates. It was fun, a chance to do something new.
“You’re so good in this episode,” Simon says halfway through. Charlie’s gotten switched with Petra’s character, so he spends
the episode acting like a serene and vaguely feline telepath.
“What?”
“I mean, you’re always good. But this one is special.” Charlie’s just looking at him, so Simon reaches for the remote and
hits pause. “Okay, what did I say wrong?”
“Nothing. You don’t need to patronize me. That’s all.”
“I wasn’t.” Simon doesn’t exactly think Charlie Blake is a generational talent but he’s good at what he does.
But of course Charlie doesn’t believe him. Simon’s spent years rolling his eyes and sighing loudly and being, in general,
pretty appalling about everything Charlie’s done on set. Simon can’t think about any of that right now.
Simon puts the show back on. Before, Charlie’s hand had been on Simon’s ankle. Now he’s using it to hold an electrolyte drink.
It’s the first time Simon’s seen the finished episode, and this part is better than he remembered. Charlie’s character needs
to negotiate a hostage exchange. He’s angry, obviously, but he’s also frightened. He can’t let the person he’s talking to
figure that out, but the audience has to be able to tell, which is tricky. There’s a lot of overlapping dialogue, which is
never easy, and it ends with Charlie getting stabbed. And he’s doing it all while conveying that he’s Petra’s character pretending
to be Charlie’s character. It’s a good performance—maybe even a great performance—in a good scene in a good episode.
“This is the part I was talking about,” Simon says. “I remember when we shot it, I thought, God, Charlie figured out how to
be subtle.”
“Okay, yeah, that’s a Simon Devereaux compliment.” Charlie doesn’t seem mad—maybe even slightly amused—but there’s something
brittle in his voice, and Simon doesn’t like it.
“I’m not trying to be mean.”
“I know, Simon.”
Simon sits up and swings his legs to the floor. “You learned on the job. If you compare what you were doing in the first season
to what you’re doing here”—he gestures at the television—“you can see. You started out with limitations, but that was because
you were new and you had no training at all. You have fewer limitations now. In a few years you’ll have even fewer. But even
at the beginning you were charismatic and—”
“Simon, just stop.” Charlie slouches and sort of knocks his head into Simon’s shoulder. Before Simon can ask what on earth
is going on right now, he realizes Charlie’s cuddling him.
“It isn’t going to work,” Simon tells him. “I’m too bony.” But he puts his arm around Charlie’s shoulders, his fingertips landing on the inside of Charlie’s elbow.
“Shut up and let it happen,” Charlie says into Simon’s clavicle, and Simon does.
They go out for a late lunch, or maybe an early dinner, and they spend so long at the restaurant that they wind up getting
takeout for dinner on the way home. Back at the apartment, Simon unpacks the suitcase Jamie sent, then sends Jamie about ten
thousand heart emojis and one thank-you.
He takes pictures of all his clothes laid out on the bed and sends them to Nora, asking her to tell him what to wear to her
party, upfronts, and just in general.
When he finishes, he finds Charlie lying on the couch, shirtless, Edie on his chest. He has one arm cushioned behind his head,
and with the other he’s holding a book. Attractive Man with a Dog and/or a Book is a particular weakness of Simon’s, so he
has to take a moment, and it’s even worse when the dog is his dog and the man is Charlie and the book is—
Simon has to sit down on the arm of the sofa.
It’s a book he mentioned offhand, in a series of semi-deranged four a.m. texts when he’d been listing all his favorite dragon books. Honestly, he hadn’t expected Charlie to pay any attention, and
even less to read any of those books. But here he is with the book that was Simon’s favorite from ages eight to fourteen—Patricia
Wrede’s Dealing with Dragons.
Twenty years later, he can see that part of the book’s appeal is that it’s a wish-fulfillment fantasy of running away to live in a cave with a dragon for a roommate, nothing to do but organize books and treasure.
That, and there’s something going on with gender that spoke to him when he was starting to understand that he wasn’t particularly interested in masculinity, or at least not in performing it.
But now, seeing Charlie with that book, he has the same feeling he did at the restaurant yesterday, where he’s sure Charlie
can see the invisible ink all over him.
“Take a picture,” Charlie says. “It’ll last longer.”
“You know what you look like.” Simon refuses to be embarrassed by finding a hot thing hot. But his phone is already in his
hand, so he does take a few pictures. He tries not to think about how he’s going to feel in a few months when he comes across
them in his camera roll.
“Lemme see,” Charlie says, holding out his hand for the phone. Simon passes it over, and watches as Charlie taps the screen
a couple times. On the coffee table, Charlie’s phone vibrates, so Simon guesses he sent the pictures to himself. “You mind
if I post one? Edie’s in them.”
“You have permission to post whatever pictures of Edie you like.”
Charlie gives him an odd look, but he reaches for his phone. Simon moves closer, sitting on the edge of the couch, his hip
against Charlie’s thigh, and scratches behind Edie’s ears.
“What about this one?” Charlie turns his phone so Simon can see a selfie Charlie must have just taken—Edie on his bare chest, Simon’s hand on Edie’s head.
It’s just Simon’s hand and wrist, his cuff folded back twice.
It could be anyone’s hand, but if someone recognizes Edie from Simon’s own social media, they’ll guess who the hand belongs to.
Simon doesn’t object to any of that, but he’s surprised Charlie doesn’t.
“Sure.” Simon gets up, a little overwhelmed and not interested in thinking about why. He crosses the room to look out the
window, but it’s dark out and it’s bright inside, so all he sees is Charlie’s reflection looking at him. “Are you enjoying
the book?” His voice is weirdly small. He makes himself turn to face Charlie.