Page 25 of Break the Rule
To his utter mortification, Charlie lets out an unmistakably soft bark. It’s ridiculous as fuck, but his lack of concern with the opinions of anyone else is definitely a turn on. Eden reallywishes it wasn’t a fireable offence to whack customers with a wet mop because that’s what he wants to do to Charlie right now.
“I’ll wait for you to come back,” Charlie calls.
The small restaurant only has a few customers but all of them turn to stare.
“Don’t bother,” Eden replies, refusing to turn around and look to see if Charlie is watching him.
Not wanting to appear lazy on his first day, Eden hurries to the back room to clean up the mopping supplies before taking a quick restroom break to wash his hands and check his makeup. Though he’d worn some makeup during his interview, he made sure to keep it a bit more subtle until he was sure how it might be received. He did it again today too, forgoing his usual skirts and favorite hot pink glitter eyeshadow in favor of a midnight blue eyeliner and a smidgen of silver eyeshadow. Given that his all black outfit—consisting of his favorite oversized band tee from a thrift store with a thermal underneath to hide his tattoos, worn jeans with holes in the knees, and scuffed up Converse—makes him look like he’s a ragtag teenager, the makeup is probably a little jarring, but Eden’s never cared about what people thought of him.
Based on the way Charlie’s gaze roamed all over Eden before, he clearly liked what he saw. And maybe Eden doesn’t give a flying fuck what men think of him, but he’s also not immune to the glimmer of power it gives him when someone like Charlie—definitely older, handsome, has his shit together, and is a functioning adult—wantshim.
Any pleasure is short lived the moment Eden realizes his gaze is lingering on his reflection in the mirror. He doesnotcare what Charlie thinks of his clothes or makeup. He doesn’t care what Charlie thinks of him period.
Liar,his subconscious screams at him as he drags his thumb over the corner of his eye where his liner has smudged. Ugh.
Eden can’t even remember the last time he wanted to fuck anyone. He gets horny plenty, but either he’s too tired to care or he handles it alone. The same way he handles everything else. It’s been months since he fucked someone and even then it was mostly desperation and the absolute fucking mood crash he experiences on his birthday every year. His birthday isn’t for a couple of months, so he can’t even blame whatever the hell is going on with him right now on that. He’s definitely not drunk, but he sure as fuck must be desperate.
Tugging on his hair, he barely resists the urge to scream. This isn’t like Eden, and he hates it. Wanting someone else, even just their body, is way too close to surrender for his liking.
Taking several steadying breaths, Eden reminds himself that he is the one in control of this situation. He just needs to get over whatever the fuck preoccupation he has going on with Charlie. The fact that he almost fucked him means nothing. Eden came to his senses before anything happened. Charlie being here now is a needed reminder that Eden should absolutely never have physical relations with anyone in close proximity to his daily life. He did the right thing standing Charlie up, albeit an asshole thing, but still the right thing for Eden. That’s all that matters.
Fucking men should only happen a great distance from Santa Leon, where there’s no chance of running into anyone he’s engaged in sex with. Ever. He’s grateful the sex work he did while living on the street was done far away from Santa Leon. He’s not ashamed of it, but he never wants to see those men again. He survived, and that’s all that fucking matters. Hated the loss of control, hated being touched when he wasn’t in the mood, hated the way men thought buying sex meant they were buyinghim. Contrary to what some of his poor decision-making skills might suggest, Eden is not a total imbecile. He knows his current issues with control and sex are related to the shit he endured on the streets, but that doesn’t change jack shit. Honestly, thisis exactly why Eden doesn’t make new friends or fuck people he knows. It makes him think things and feel things, and honestly fucking fuck that.
Shaking off his thoughts, he forces himself to make a mental list of what else he needs to do before his shift ends today. He should hurry back out and bus the tables. For all he knows, Charlie might even be gone when Eden returns to the dining room. Hell, maybe this is his first time here and he won’t ever see him again.
When Eden comes back out to the front, his hopes of avoiding Charlie are dashed when he spots a familiar head of unruly dark hair. Charlie’s long, lanky body is hunched over in one of the smaller booths in the corner, making him appear slightly smaller than he is. Eyes on his phone and elbows on the table, he’s completely unaware of Eden’s return, giving him ample opportunity to stare.
His hopes are further dashed when his boss, Juanita, comes out of the kitchen to hand deliver a steaming plate ofpollocon mole y arrozto Charlie.
“Your usual,mijo.” Juanita sets down the plate in front of him before patting his cheek. “You need to eat more. You’re too skinny. You and that brother of yours. Where is he?”
Hisusual. Not his first time here then. Fuck Eden’s entire fucking life. Looks like he’s going to be running into Charlie a lot more then.
“Andrew is at home, ma’am.”
“Ma’am,” Juanita snorts. “Call me ma’am again and I’ll tell Armando not to makemoleanymore.”
Charlie gasps. “You would never.”
“I wouldn’t,” Juanita agrees, “but only because it makes me money, not because of you. Even if you are one of my best customers. I’d tell you to learn to cook, but you keep me in business.”
“You can tell yourself whatever you want as long as you keep feeding me.”
“Keep paying me, and I’ll feed you whatever you want.”
“This is why you’re my favorite, Juanita.”
Juanita blushes. Actually blushes. It makes her look younger, the lines on her sun-worn face softening.
“Enough sweet talking,” she grumbles, wiping her hands on hermandil. “Eat your food before it gets cold.”
“You know I love you, Juanita.”
“You love mymole,” she corrects with a shake of her head.
“That too,” Charlie grins, making him look stupidly handsome. He’s got masculine features, softened by his colorful, almost feminine clothing, and the way it fucks with gender expectations is really doing it for Eden.
“Tell Andrew I said hello.”
