Page 76 of Break the Rule
Eden doesn’t flinch, lifting his chin to meet Charlie’s gaze head on. “As a child, you saidwatch mea lot, didn’t you?”
“Guilty,” Charlie confirms.
“Attention whore,” Eden mutters under his breath.
“Just admit it, you wanna watch me,” Charlie asks, hardly even sure what he’s asking. Watch him, what? Paint? Jerk off? The opportunities are endless. He wants Eden to do them all. The idea of Eden in his studio watching him paint is as thrilling as the idea of putting on a show for him in a far more salacious manner.
“I’d rather watch paint dry,” Eden grumbles. It’s a bold face lie because his lips are parted and his fingers twitching at his sides. There’s no mistaking he wants Charlie.
“So are you ready to see it?”
“You still haven’t said whatitis.”
“It’s a surprise.” Charlie winks for good measure, but it clearly doesn’t help because Eden looks like he’d rather be walked off a plank.
“I don’t like surprises.”
“Just come with me,” Charlie urges, not above begging. “Please.”
He can’t explain why he’s so desperate to show Eden what’s in his studio when there’s a very high possibility it’ll weird him out, and he’ll run away as fast as he did after kissing Charlie.
If Charlie were being methodical about this, he might wait it out, but he’s not methodical or patient. He knows what he wants and goes for it, and he wants Eden. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t understand the full scope of it.
There was a lot of truth to Eden’s earlier teasing. As a child, Charliehadwanted to be watched, near constantly. Luckily that need was usually met by Andrew who would happily sit and watch Charlie play or do art for hours. As they got older, he used to sit and study or read while Charlie painted. At least, until hissleeping issues got worse in high school, when most of Charlie’s art was done while the rest of his family was asleep. Well, except for Alec, who used to wake up at all hours of the night and drag his blanket into Charlie’s room to fall asleep while he painted.
Time has changed a lot since Charlie was younger, but not his deep-seated desire for attention and validation, especially where his art is concerned. For Charlie, the act of creating is a part of who he is—an expression of how he experiences the world and something that makes him deeply fulfilled. There’s also a loneliness to it—the hours spent holed up in his studio creating something that makes him think and feel with no outlet to verbally process. There’s no doubt in Charlie that even if he hadn’t lucked out and turned his passion into a career that he would still paint as much, but the truth is, sharing his work with the world is something that thrills him as much as the process of its inception.
Right now, he wants to share it with Eden. Even if the prospect makes him slightly anxious. The buzz of anticipation makes him eager, and desperate, and he can’t stop himself from reaching for Eden’s hands, thrilled when Eden doesn’t protest.
“Trust me, I think you’ll like it. Or maybe, I want you to like it, is more accurate. To be honest, I have no fucking idea what you’re going to think. But if you hate it you have full permission to leave.”
“You’re being weirdly ominous,” Eden says, eyes locked on where their fingers are touching. It’s not quite holding hands, but it’s close enough that Charlie’s heart beats faster at the sight of Eden’s fingers compared to his own—smaller, more delicate, yet covered in scars and calluses.
Experimentally, Charlie hooks his pinkie around Eden’s, as close to holding hands as he dares. He holds his breath, waiting, but Eden doesn’t pull away. He’s not sure he’s ever been as thrilled by such a small amount of physical contact.
“Let me show you, and you can decide for yourself.”
“Fine.”
“Yeah?”
“I said yes, don’t make me repeat myself, Charlie.”
“Thank you.”
“No. Don’t thank me. That’s weird. Don’t be weird. Or weirder than you always are. Your other weird is good, that’s…not good.”
“I was just being polite.”
“Well, stop it.” Eden huffs, pulling his hands back and crossing them over his chest. “Just…let’s go see whatever it is that’s in the fucking yard. It better not be anything weird.”
“You just said you liked my weird.”
“That’s literally not even what I said.”
“You totally did,” Charlie counters, taking two steps towards the back door. When Eden follows, he takes two more, unlocking the door in the kitchen that leads to his backyard. “I think your exact words were ‘Charlie King, I adore your vibrant and unique personality and can’t get enough of your weirdness.’”
“Shut the fuck up, Charlie.”
