Page 50 of Break the Rule
“You’re growing on me like a weed. Get out of here, and tell that sweetheart brother of yours I set up an appointment in December for that suit fitting.”
“What December fitting?” Charlie asks, unsure why the world seems determined to pull the rug out from under him lately. First Alec and now Andrew? Don’t his brothers understand he wants to know everything? Especially Andrew. “Where’s Andrew going? What’s he need a suit for?”
“You can ask him that yourself. Now get out of here so I can finish with Mr. Miller without you loitering around making a nuisance of yourself or worse, ruining my samples.”
“Oh for fucks sake, it was one time, Denise.” Charlie sighs. “Fine, but just know that I am only leaving because I need to call Andrew and find out about this mysterious event he’s going to that I don’t know about and not because you’re making me.”
Sure not to break eye contact with Denise, he slowly inches his way towards the front door.
Denise smiles. “You can tell yourself whatever you want, that doesn't make it true.”
“Women,” Charlie grumbles, before plastering a smile on his face and turning to look at Emerson. “It was good seeing you again. Say hi to Ariel for me.”
“Who’s Ariel?”
“Jason, obviously,” Charlie answers, unable to resist the opportunity to embarrass Jason just a little bit. He was such a cute kid with his chubby cheeks and mermaid obsession. Surely this is pertinent information for someone who has feelings for him. Especially if that someone has beautiful red hair. “That was his nickname when he was little because he was so obsessed with The Little Mermaid. I swear he used to parade around the house wrapped in a blanket saying it was his mermaid tail. He was a cute kid. In hindsight, his thing with redheads started early.”
Emerson stands there blinking at Charlie like he doesn’t have a damn clue what to do with anything Charlie just said, while Denise looks ready to throw something at him, both clear signs it’s time for him to depart.
“Great talk we had, Emerson. We should definitely do it again. Have Jason give you my number so we can get lunch.”
He barely waits for a response, shouldering his suit and high-tailing it out of the shop, intent on calling Andrew. He needs answers, and spending the evening with Andrew getting themwill be exactly the distraction he needs while waiting to see his Cinderella again.
Standingin front of Andrew’s door, Charlie gives an obligatory knock. He doesn’t wait for a response, slipping his key into the lock then turning the handle. Stepping into Andrew’s apartment is like walking through a vortex where someone sucked all the color out. The only source of color in the entire place is the massive canvas hung in the main living area. Charlie beams with pride at being the only reason there is any color in this place, even if it is only shades of blue.
Aside from the painting, everything is devoid of color. The couch is white, the rugs are white, even the counters and cupboards in the kitchen are white. Charlie cannot understand how his brother can live in such a minimalistic space. Charlie would wither and die here. Luckily, Andrew usually comes to his house, so they don’t spend much time in Andrew’s empty shoebox apartment.
Any time Charlie does come here, he has the urge to paint something. He tried once, but Andrew threatened to change the locks on him. He settles for his ritual of hiding small, brightly colored miniature ducks. So far he’s hidden close to two hundred fifty and Andrew has found, well—all of them. That fucker has a knack for spotting something out of place in his house. It’s frankly terrifying.
Running water in the bathroom lets him know that Andrew is occupied, affording him enough free time to plant his duck. He pulls today’s winner out of his pocket, grinning at the tiny blue plastic duck.
“He’s not going to find you this time, Fred.” Charlie heads directly to Andrew’s bookshelf in the corner. Careful as can be, he lowers the duck into the potted plant—fake because if a speck of real dirt made it into Andrew’s house, it would be the end of the world. Which reminds Charlie he forgot to take off his Crocs. No sooner is he kicking them off by the door then the water shuts off. He waits half a beat before?—
“Charlie?”
“Yup,” Charlie answers, pretty sure someone should study Andrew’s super hearing.
“Make sure you take your shoes off.”
“They’re not shoes, they’re?—”
“Crocs,” Andrew finishes from the bathroom, his tone making Charlie grin. He almost puts his Crocs on the shoe rack then decides to leave them in front of the door, just to be ornery.
Waiting for Andrew, he throws himself across the couch and reaches for the remote to scroll through his streaming channels. He’s still scrolling when Andrew appears in his most dressed down version—wearing a pair of white sweats and a white hoodie. Even his socks are bright white.
“Is it Halloween? Are you dressed as a cloud?”
“Says the man dressed like a fucking rainbow,” Andrew retorts, dropping down into the corner of the couch. He leaps up almost immediately when he spots Charlie’s Crocs. “That’s not where they go.”
“Yet they’re right there.”
“You’re such a pain in the ass,” Andrew sighs, adding Charlie’s Crocs to the top row of his shoe rack before returning to the couch. “Why are you here anyway?”
“I don’t need an excuse to visit you.”
“You do,” Andrew counters. “You hardly ever come over.”
“That’s because you always come to my place first,” Charlie points out. “You like visiting me, right?”
