Page 26 of Break the Rule
“Speaking of my wonderful brother who you love so much. Can I get?—”
“An order ofpollo de caldo, no onions and no cilantro. A side ofarroz e frijoles, in separate containers and an order of flour tortillas wrapped separately.”
“Yes, that,” Charlie claps his hands together. “Maybe a double order of tortillas. He was stressed earlier. Tortillas fix everything.”
Juanita sighs. “He’s too stressed lately.”
“What do you mean, lately?” Charlie frowns.
“What do I look like, achismosa? Lesschisme, more eating,” Juanita chastises. “I’ll go get your brother’s order going.”
“Thanks.” Charlie offers her a smile, but even Eden, who hardly knows him, can see it doesn’t reach his face the way his earlier smiles did. Is it because of his brother? They seem awfully close, more than any siblings he’s ever seen, but then Eden’s never known a set of identical twins before. Maybe it’s always like that.
Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, Eden grabs a tray and begins clearing the booth on the opposite side of the room. He wipes the table, trying not to watch Charlie eat and definitely not thinking about how he should apologize. Eden doesn’t apologize to people. Not because he’s an asshole but because he just doesn’t talk to people who aren’t Addy. Even his coworkers at his weekend serving gig don’t know anything about him, which is how he likes it. So why the fuck can’t he stop thinking about telling Charlie he’s sorry, or worse, his name?
Angry at himself, and Charlie even if it's not his fault, Eden scrubs away at the tables until every single empty one is squeaky clean. He moves to the counters next, pushing aside the plastic tubs ofcocadasand plastic wrappedmazapanthat are kept by the register.
“You’re going to wear away the paint,mijo.”
Eden jumps, dropping the cloth and forcing away the sick feeling in his gut.
“I was just cleaning,” Eden mumbles, unable to make eye contact with Juanita. She’d been so nice during his interview, which is exactly the problem. Eden has no problem interacting with people he doesn’t like. It's why he was able to keep his part time serving gig where he met Charlie for so long. His supervisor was a dick, and his coworkers were annoying. Interacting with people he doesn’t care about is easy.
Juanita is kind in the way someone’s mom or grandma might be, and it makes Eden want to quit.
“You can take this to one of the customers,” she tells him, setting a plastic bag on the counter beside him. “The man in the corner.”
“Charlie,” Eden supplies automatically.
“You know Charlie?” Juanita’s smile grows, and Eden can’t imagine what it must be like to be the kind of person people are happy to know. The knot in his stomach twists. “Mybest customer. He’s a good man. He can’t cook, keeps me in business.”
She laughs before picking up the tongs and placing twococadosin a small paper bag. She folds over the top then places it with the to-go order of food. “You’ll take this to Charlie then.”
“Uh-huh.” Eden curls his fingers around the plastic handle, focusing on the hefty weight of the order as he carries it towards Charlie, who is scraping the last bits ofmoleoff his plate with a tortilla. He pops it into his mouth, licking his finger clean. There’s no reason at all his fingers need to go so deep into his mouth.
There’s also no reason for what Eden says next. Maybe it’s watching Charlie lickmolefrom his fingers, or knowing he cares about his twin brother. Maybe it’s that he’s Juanita’s favorite customer, or maybe it’s that he’s just really fucking sexy. Or maybe Eden is a walking trauma response who only makes decisions guaranteed to blow up in his face.
Whatever the reason, there’s no taking back the words Eden blurts as he plops the to-go order of food on Charlie’s table.
“We can fuck.”
6CHARLIE
Of all theways Charlie has been propositioned over the years, and there have beena lot, having someone slam a bag of takeout on his table and glare at him while blurting ‘we can fuck’is going to go down in the history books as the strangest.
Pulling his fingers out of his mouth, Charlie wipes them on a napkin before gulping down the last of his Coke. He licks his lips and stares at the guy beside him whose real name he still doesn’t know.
“You don’t sound entirely sure.”
“If I said it, I’m sure,” he asserts, jaw clenching. He looks kind of pissed off, which is hot, especially because it makes him narrow those gorgeous blue eyes of his. He’s got eyeliner on again, only this time it’s a deep blue that makes his eyes pop. He really is beautiful if you like small, pretty, angry guys who look like they want to punch you, which apparently Charlie does. He likes all guys, and girls, and nonbinary hotties. But he definitely, really likes this guy.
Before Charlie had been distracted by knocking him over and their verbal sparring, but now there’s nothing to distract him from staring, and he takes in the juxtaposition of his boxy clothing and sharp, delicate eye makeup. The contrast doessomething to Charlie’s brain, lighting it up with dopamine and arousal.
There is no doubt that Charlie wants to fuck him still, even if he did stand him up. The problem is Charlie’s not entirely surehewants it.
“Look, if this is some kind of guilt complex for standing me up, then don’t worry about it. I’m a big boy, and I can handle rejection just fine. I’m not going to be bitter or mad if you changed your mind. A heads up would’ve been nice, but considering we didn’t exchange numbers you probably couldn’t.”
Impossibly, the guy's frown deepens, and he crosses his arms over his chest. Given how form-fitting the uniform at the gallery was, both the night he wore dress slacks and the night he wore a skirt, Charlie knows exactly how petite he is. The urge to touch is strong, but Charlie has impeccable self-control, at least when it comes to respecting people’s boundaries. When it comes to shit like food and shopping and annoying his brothers, that self-control goes out the window.
