Page 22 of Break the Rule
“Sure,” Andrew placates, even though they both know he won’t.
Charlie makes up his mind to order him something to eat for later. He’ll just need to sweet talk Juanita so they put the entirety of Andrew’s order in separate containers so nothing touches.
“You sure you’re okay?” Charlie questions, tempted to force Andrew into staying. It’s been a while since Andrew did this. The last time Charlie can recall him closing off like this is back when he started his new job and the stress of settling into a new routine was making him sick. He’s been doing so well since thenthough. Charlie tries so hard to respect Andrew’s boundaries, even when he hates them.
“I’m always okay,” Andrew assures him with a smile. It would be more convincing if Charlie didn’t know Andrew could smile through a goddamn meltdown if it meant no one would notice.
“You can come back and join me if you change your mind,” Charlie reminds him.
“Uh-huh,” Andrew hums.
Charlie finally gets out of the car, not because he wants to, but because he senses Andrew needs him to. He watches Andrew drive away, already pulling out his phone to text him.
Charlie
wanna make a bet on how much mole I can eat?
Eyes on his phone, Charlie isn’t paying attention as he walks through the front door. The bell above the door jingles, someone welcomes him, but Charlie only has eyes for the pretty blond guy he hasn’t seen in weeks—a man he walks straight into, tripping over the caution sign near the doorway to alert people of the wet floor. Unfortunately for Charlie, and his blond guy, his Crocs slide on the still wet floor, sending Charlie crashing down on top of him.
If looks could kill, Charlie would be ten feet under.
What he should probably do is apologize for knocking this guy over. Instead, what comes out of his mouth is less of an apology and more of well, Charlie isn’t sure entirely. Something that might actually get him killed.
“Can’t run away this time.”
5EDEN
Of all thefucking people to walk in here on Eden’s first fucking day at a new job, it had to be this fucking handsome fuck. If Eden didn’t need this job so badly, he might punch Charlie in the face just for existing. A second time for knocking him to the ground.
Now you can’t run away.
Discomfort wars with guilt. Objectively, Eden was kind of an asshole for standing him up without any warning, but since Eden refused to exchange phone numbers that had been impossible. It wasn’t like Eden was going to drive across town to Charlie’s house just to knock on the door and say ‘hey my trauma reared its ugly head and decided sex was off the table because I’m actually attracted to you, but in the past I’ve only ever fucked people I didn’t like or who paid me. I hope there’s no hard feelings.’ Yeah fucking right. Over Eden’s dead body. Acknowledging the real reason he’d skipped out on the chance to fuck was bad enough. That truth was going to stay firmly in his brain where no one else could point out how fucked up it was.
Shit happens all the time, and this was just one of those times. For all he might find Charlie hot and intriguing, they’re still just strangers. Eden doesn’t owe Charlie anything.
“I can go anywhere I damn well please,” Eden forces out, tempted to shove Charlie off him. The only reason he hasn’t is because despite looking lanky, Charlie’s heavy. Living on a diet of instant noodles and energy drinks has not instilled enough body weight or muscle on Eden, who couldn't get out from underneath Charlie if he tried. This knowledge makes him want to break something, an overwhelming sense of panic flooding him.
The last time he’d been stuck under another guy had beenthe last time.Eden isn’t going to let someone else have that level of control over him again. He’d been deluded into thinking things like safe words and monetary agreements meant shit to people who could afford to buy a night with someone.
“I was only joking,” Charlie says, his expression shuttering. He looks genuinely apologetic, and Eden would care more if unwanted memories weren’t trying to claw their way out of the recesses of Eden’s mind where he’d buried them.
“Then get the fuck off me,” Eden hisses, trying not to make a scene but close to losing his shit.
Bile rises up the back of Eden’s throat. Eden focuses on the tang, using his discomfort to avoid spiraling. He’s safe—has been for years. He doesn’t need to run away, though fuck knows he wishes he could. All he needs is for Charlie tomove.
“Sorry,” Charlie whispers, finally rolling off Eden and onto the floor. His pale purple pants darken where the water from where Eden just mopped soaks into the material at his knees and ass. Honestly, where did he even get lilac-colored pants? Ella owns pants that color, but she’s four years old. Focusing on how stupid Charlie’s pants are calms the erratic thrumming of Eden’s heart. This is fine, everything is fine.
“At least let me help you up.” Charlie extends his hand towards Eden, who has apparently lost his damn mind and is still lying on the floor. The only excuse Eden has is that he’scurrently experiencing a range of emotions that feel far too vast for one brain to handle. From panic to annoyance to confusion, all he can do is marvel at the fact that somehow Charlie is still attractive to him, even after barreling over him while dressed like a brightly colored paint palette.
“I don’t need help,” Eden grumbles, ignoring Charlie’s hand in favor of hefting himself up off the slippery floor through sheer stubbornness alone.
Once he’s off the floor, he becomes uncomfortably aware that his back and ass are now damp. His only relief from embarrassment is that since his jeans are as black as his long shirt is, he doesn’t look as bad as Charlie.
“I really am sorry about knocking you over,” Charlie apologizes, shoving both hands in his pockets.
Frowning, Eden snatches the mop off the floor before fixing the caution sign. Charlie isn’t supposed to be apologizing to him; he should be pointing out what a dick Eden was and going away.
“Did you not see the giant yellow warning sign letting you know the floor was wet?” Eden grumbles, deeply uncomfortable with the turn of conversation. This would be so much easier if Charlie was a dick.
