Page 77 of Break the Rule
Charlie beams, flipping on the light on the back porch. It’s not much, but it lights up part of the yard, at least until they get about twenty feet from the house and are met with a shocking amount of darkness. Below them, the lights of Santa Leon are lit up, the sea nothing but a distant memory on the horizon, hidden away in the dark.
“You’re not instilling confidence in me about this being on the up and up. It better not be a murder plot, or I swear to god I’ll fucking kill you, Charlie.”
“Do you trust anyone?”
“No,” Eden snaps, followed by, much quieter, “Addy.”
“You guys are close.”
It’s not a question, but Eden answers nonetheless.
“She’s my family.”
Three words. The closest to opening up Eden has gotten since they met. It’s incredible how one sentence can fill Charlie with pride at having earned even a breadcrumb of Eden’s trust.
“So, uh…who is Ella then?”
“Are you gonna show me what’s out here or conduct an interview?” Eden snaps.
Right, no more answers tonight then. That’s fine. Charlie’s not a patient man by nature, but for once, he’s content to earn what he wants.
“Yeah, it’s just in my studio. Follow me and I’ll get the lights. Just…fair warning, it might be a lot.”
“You’re being the bad kind of weird again.”
“Seriously, I know I’m a lot, and I’m not apologizing, or being self-deprecating. I’m telling you flat out I’m intense, and if that’s not what you want or like, you can walk.” Even as he says it, something tightens in his chest. He doesn’t want Eden to walk away from him. He’s always worn his weirdness and his queerness like badges of honor, throwing it in people’s faces loud and proud before they could judge him. He knows exactly who he is, and he likes it. For the first time in his life, he finds himself caring if someone else likes it too.
“Just open the goddamn door, Charlie.”
Turning the handle, Charlie pushes open both studio doors. It’s dark enough that the moon overhead barely casts enough light to illuminate the small step up into the studio, the entirety of what’s inside still hidden away in the dark.
This is it, Charlie’s last chance to change his mind. He knows he won’t, regardless of the risk. He wants Eden to see this. He needs him to see it.
“Please tell me there’s no video cameras in there,” Eden muses. “I don’t do sex tapes.”
“I don’t want to make a sex tape,” Charlie snorts. “Although?—”
Eden pinches his ass, and Charlie laughs even as his nerves rage. He’s not sure he’s ever been this nervous to show anyone his art.
“Just remember how much you love me.”
“I don’t love you.”
“Yet,” Charlie jokes, flipping the studio light on. It’s bright, too bright, and Charlie squints at the onslaught of light.
“Andrew once suggested I get ambient lighting installed,” Charlie says, watching as Eden steps into the studio. There are even more pieces than when Amanda came by—canvases of various sizes and designs. The subject matter is the same in all of them though.
“Is it too bright?” Charlie says, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “It’s too bright, right?”
Eden doesn’t reply, walking towards the wall with wide eyes and an unreadable expression. He makes a line, meandering across the length of the studio as he takes them all in. The most recent still sits on his easel, only half done. It’s Charlie’s favorite, a deeply realistic piece of Eden in the same skirt he’d fucked Charlie in last week. His eyes are glittering with distrust, his middle finger raised to the viewer. He’s fierce and beautiful. Charlie just needs to finish the background.
“That one’s not done yet,” Charlie says, moving to Eden’s side. “It’s good though, right?”
Still Eden says nothing, reaching out as if to touch then pulling his hand back.
“It’s not wet, you can touch it.”
Eden’s eyes remain on the painting, his pointer finger drawing across the thick paint that make up the ruffles on his skirt. Charlie’s pretty proud of the texture he mimicked there.
