Page 53 of Break the Rule
“Where did you get this?” He asks, snatching the bracelet up and pushing it onto his left arm.
“Under my bed. Must’ve fallen off when you fucked my brains out.” Charlie grins, but the expression isn’t returned. Instead, he stares at the bracelet, running his fingers over the letter beads.
“Eden,” he whispers so quietly Charlie almost thinks he’s misheard.
“Did you say?—”
“Eden,” he repeats, louder this time. He lifts his pretty blue eyes up to meet Charlie’s gaze, and Charlie nearly staggers under the intensity of that look. “That’s my name.”
“Eden,” Charlie repeats, tasting the syllables on his tongue. It sounds the way painting feels, melodic almost. “Who’s Ella?”
“Why did you bring it back?” Eden demands, in lieu of an answer.
“It’s yours, any decent person would have.” He doesn’t mention that it took him a week to return or that he wore it during that time. He’s a decent person, but he’s no fucking saint.
“It means a lot to me,” Eden says in a way that suggests that confessing cost him something. “I—thank you,”
Charlie smiles, stepping closer. “You don’t have to thank me, Eden.”
Something about Eden draws him in, like a moth to a flame. He’s so goddamn beautiful that Charlie can’t look away, doesn’t want to look away.
“Eden.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t, my favorite word.” Charlie inches closer, the pull damn near making him collapse. He curls himself around Eden, tempting fate by getting as close into his personal space as he can without actually touching.
He’s so fucking close that Charlie can almost taste him, can see his lip gloss sparkling, can smell the faintest hint of something sweet like cherry or bubblegum on his mouth.
Suddenly, he has to know.
“Do you use flavored chapstick?”
Eden’s chin juts out, like he’s gearing for a fight. “Why?”
“Because I like it.”
“Didn’t fucking ask if you liked it,” Eden grits out. Despite the sharpness of his words, Eden rises on tiptoes, his mouth slightly parted. He’s responsive, but it’s clear he doesn’t want to be because he seems to catch himself, dropping his heels to the ground and frowning.
“I like it, Eden.”
“Just because you know my name doesn't mean you get to use it.”
A smile tries to pull across Charlie’s lips. He never thought he’d meet anyone who argued more pointlessly than he did, but Eden could make an art of it. Eden is a goddamn work of art with his pretty facade and heart wrapped in barbed wire.
Suddenly one night doesn’t seem like enough.
“Go on a date with me,” Charlie blurts, uttering the kind of sentence he never thought he would.
“No.”
“Please.”
“No,” Eden repeats.
Charlie bows his head, lowering himself down so close he can pick up the lingering scent of tortillas and oil from working in the restaurant, but something sweeter on his lips is there too.
“I’ll take anything you give me,” Charlie tells him, not above admitting how desperate he is.
