Page 62 of Break the Rule
So fucking easy.
“I guess you can stay,” Eden grumbles. “You’re better company than Charlie.”
“Please let me tell him that,” Andrew laughs, sliding the plate of tortillas between them. Eden sees it for what it is, a peace offering. He takes one, stomach suddenly grumbling. Andrew pushes the rice and beans across the table.
“What are you doing?” Eden asks.
“Making sure you eat. You work here, so I’m sure you know how good the food is but?—”
“I haven’t had any yet,” Eden admits, the steam from the rice flooding his nose with its savory aroma. There’s no huge reason Eden hasn’t tried the food yet. He’s been offered some enough times, always brushing it off with lies about having just eaten or not being hungry. He’s not even sure why. Or perhaps he is, and he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. Growing up, food had often been held over his head. Growing up with food used as a punishment or reward left Eden with more than a few food issues.
He’s gotten used to refusing to let anyone give him food he didn’t make himself if only because it felt safer. The only exception is Addy. He can’t remember the last person besides her who tried to feed Eden.
“Does Juanita know? I feel like she doesn’t know or she’d have cooked the entire menu for you. Unless you don’t likeMexican food. That might be a deal breaker for Charlie. I think he’d cry if you don’t likearroz con mole, but he’s a dramatic fucker.”
“I like Mexican food,” Eden answers, allowing himself to pull the bowls in front of him. Shit, he really is hungry.
“I’m not a salsa guy myself, the texture grosses me out, but Charlie swears the salsa here is life changing, if you like that kind of thing.”
Eden shrugs, and before he knows it, Andrew is off to the front counter, smiling at Rosio, returning a few minutes later with a plate. On top are half a dozen little plastic to-go containers they use for carry out orders. In each one is a different kind of salsa. Without making a big deal about it, he sets it down beside Eden—no elaborate explanation, no posturing about doing something nice. He doesn’t even demand Eden try them, just starts talking about something else. He has the same voice as Charlie, rich and warm, and Eden focuses on the oddly soothing cadence of his voice as he eats, surprised to find himself finishing it all. Once the plates have been all but licked clean, Eden’s mood has improved. Whether from the full belly or Andrew’s unexpectedly soothing presence, he isn’t sure.
“So, Charlie,” Andrew says once he, too, has finished.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Eden protests automatically, but it’s half-hearted at best. Maybe a warm meal and some human kindness wore him down.
“It’s not my place to say if there is or isn’t.”
“Yet you’re here,” Eden points out.
“Touché,” Andrew grins. “Look, my brother is something else. He’s bigger than life. He always has been, and I love him for that. Charlie was born to shine. He lives life loudly and unapologetically. But sometimes…sometimes it’s hard to love someone who lives so loudly.”
“I don’t love Charlie,” Eden declares, flushing at the very idea.
“I do though.” Andrew’s smile softens into something almost sad. “I’m just saying that caring about someone like him, it’s not always easy. He’s loud and in your face, and he can be kind of exhausting.”
“I thought you were here to talk Charlie up.”
“I’m here to be honest with you,” Andrew counters. “Everything I said is true. What’s also true is that Charlie is the single greatest person I know. Heisloud and demanding. He’s also passionate and creative and funny and kind, and he doesn’t do anything by halves. Charlie is a lot because he has a lot to give. Everything he does, everything he is, will always be a lot. He needs someone who can handle that. Someone who won’t be turned off by his intensity and who can challenge him and go toe to toe with him. He needs someone special.”
Someone special.Sure as fuck not Eden then.
“Why are you telling me this?” Eden asks.
“Because I think you can handle Charlie. I think youwantto handle Charlie, or you wouldn’t be having lunch with me.” Andrew reaches for his drink, taking a long, slow sip while watching Eden. “I swore I’d never do this, never get involved in Charlie's love life, and it’s been easy because Charlie didn’t have one. He’s been happy, slutting it up then moving on. He swears he still is, but I know him better than he knows himself, and he’s not happy. Something changed.”
“What changed?” Eden finds himself asking.
“He met you.”
“I’m not special,” Eden protests, struggling to fathom what Andrew is saying. Charlie can’t possibly still be thinking about Eden? Not after one night, after one kiss. Not after what he did. Eden isn’t worth all that.
“Take it from someone who knows what it’s like to be loved by Charlie. I don’t think I’m special either. What I think doesn’t seem to matter. Charlie’s always seen the beauty in things others dismissed. It’s what makes him so special. He’s not just an artist by trade, it’s what he is. He has an artist's heart, and nothing in the world can change the beauty he sees in the mundane.”
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that,” Eden admits.
“You don’t have to say anything, not to me. Just—think about it. Think about Charlie.”
“I’ve done nothing but think about Charlie,” Eden snaps.
