teenager. It’s done and diffused.” I leave out Jesse.
I’m playing favorites.
Is it fair? Yeah, no. Life isn’t fair, and I have intense feelings for the pretty boy with the camera. And if his little brother is in a pickle, I’m going to help get him out.
Without the details of the fight, I might not be on the right side of morality, but I don’t always need to be.
“It was that kid named Jesse,” Tyson complains. “Not me.”
Sinclair spins onto Jack. “Your brother Jesse?”
Jack tucks his camera under his arm. “It was a misunderstanding—”
“Did I mishear the part where production is starting fights at a charity event?” Sinclair cuts him off.
The Epsilon lead cutting off one of his bodyguards, fine. Him cutting off Jack Highland, not fine. Not at all.
“It’s diffused, Sinclair,” I rebut and tell him lowly, “we should leave this area before more runners pass the finish line and need water.”
He’s stewing more than the douchebro.
But Tyson blurts out, “I was joking. That guy Jesse can’t take a joke.”
“What happened?” Sinclair questions.
“I was fake-humping the table, and Jesse got bent-out-of-shape over it because another person—not me—said that’s how I should ride Winona Meadows.”
My jaw hardens, eyes narrow, head cocks because I’m used to these aggravating comments. No one likes this kind of peanut gallery, but they can’t shut up when it comes to the famous ones.
Jack looks exasperated, also too used to hecklers. “Your friends can’t talk like that here, man, and they shouldn’t talk like that anywhere—”
“Let security deal with security issues,” Sinclair cuts in before reiterating the same shit to the teenager. “That’s no way to talk to any woman or any person.”
Tyson scratches a pink bumpy patch on his fair skin, and what do you know—I think I gave the douchebro poison ivy.
I’d laugh about it, but I’m busy watching Jack back away from the situation. I only want to follow close before he disappears on me. And also, I left my vanishing client alone.
It’ll be a miracle if Charlie is still waiting for me.
Sinclair surveys the mess of water and cups on the grass. “Clean this up,” he orders the temp guard. “More runners are about to come in.”
Jack exits the tent, but not before casting a glance back. Our eyes catch in a beat that says, we’re on the same side.
Not necessarily as production and security.
But just as myself and him.
As Oscar and Jack.
I’m really falling for this guy, aren’t I?
He disappears.
It pounds my pulse. Aches my joints and muscles, almost pushing me to go after him. Run after him. With one more professional exchange to Sinclair and a short talk with Akara over comms, I sprint out of the tent.
Jack is already gone.
Charlie….is also gone.
My muscles are on fire, breath caged as I click my mic. “Oscar to Farrow, is Charlie in the med cabins?” Farrow has been off-duty for security and on-duty for the med team.
Right now, my desire to chase after Charlie has been replaced with a full-fledged desire to chase after Jack.
Comms crackle. “Farrow to Oscar, that’s a yes.”
I exhale.
If Charlie is safe there, then I can go find Highland. And so I text him and wait for his answer.
Jack and I meet-up in an empty cabin called Blue Daisy, just four bunks here, a rustic bench, and a blue trunk.
Farrow left us a tube of corticosteroid cream to treat our poison ivy, which he diagnosed after looking at Charlie. I must’ve had the plant oils on my clothes and that’s how Tyson got the rash, otherwise it’s not really contagious person-to-person.
I’m officially off-duty while I treat this shit.
My arms, my legs, my neck—it all burns and itches like I’ve been dipped in a vat of fire ants. I shed my shirt and unbutton my pants.
Jack places his camera on a top bunk, the mattress thin and flimsy. “You think Charlie knew he was leading us into poison ivy?” He pulls his tee over his head. “Just to get you and me naked together?”
I let out a laugh. “Now that would be some 5D-chess.” I step out of my pants.
“It is working,” Jack notes, standing in only gray boxer-briefs. But he’s itching his neck to hell and back.
“Stop scratching, Highland.” I catch his wrist.
His chest rises, his eyes drop down my half-naked build. I’m only wearing dark blue boxer-briefs, and a part of me is screaming to kiss him. To clutch his jaw and pull him closer. But we’re both in slight pain right now, and a lot just happened