Page 89 of Break the Rule
“Possibly.”
“You look like shit, why are you here?”
Charlie jumps, slamming his head on the roof of the car and blinking. Where the fuck had Eden come from?
“Who’s that? That’s not Andrew.”
“I have to go, bye Amanda.” Charlie hangs up without waiting for a response, praying she loves both the money he makes her—and Andrew—enough not to fire him after the shithead he’s been the last few weeks.
“Who’s Amanda?” Eden asks, sliding into the passenger seat. There’s a plastic bag in his hands that he passes it to Charlie.
“My agent. I need to sign some stuff for her. What’s this?”
“Illegal paraphernalia,” Eden deadpans. “It’s food, dumbass. Knowing you, you haven’t eaten today, have you?”
“I don’t wanna answer that question on account of it incriminating me,” Charlie grumbles, refusing to admit that hemaybe, possibly, hasn’t eaten since last night, and that could also probably be why he feels like shit. Maybe if he eats, he won’t feel on the verge of crying for no reason. Andrew likes to point out how erratic eating can cause low blood sugar and mood swings. When given food, Charlie can always eat; when left to his own devices, he often forgets.
“What is it?” Charlie asks, lifting the bag and trying to guess by the weight.
“It’s a loaded chicken burrito withmoleadded.”
“Oh my god, I love?—”
“Shut the fuck up and eat your damn burrito.”
“You literally just walked out the door,” Charlie points out, opening the bag to find a burrito the size of his head wrapped in foil. He peels the foil back, taking a huge bite and groaning. “This is so fucking good. How did you have time?”
“First of all, I didn’t make it, I just put the order in. Second of all, I saw you pull up in the parking lot twenty-five minutes ago, and then sit there like a stalker. What are you doing?”
“Can’t talk,” Charlie replies around a massive bite, pointing to his full mouth in lieu of having to lie to Eden. His behaviorisverging dangerously into stalker territory. He'd rather call it boyfriend territory, but somehow Eden seems to prefer the idea of a stalker to a boyfriend.
“Mhmm,” Eden hums. He reaches out to pluck Charlie’s sunglasses off his head, sliding them onto his own face to shield his eyes from the midafternoon sun. They look sexy as fuck on him, and Charlie ends up dribbling rice andmoledown the front of his floral shirt because he can’t take his eyes off Eden long enough to pay attention to where he’s stuffing his burrito.
“Eye-fuck me any harder and I might come in my pants.”
“You’re wearing a skirt,” Charlie points out, eyes drawn to the way the skirt is rucked up at his upper thighs, exposing thefair hair there. Charlie wishes he could bury his face in between them and sniff. “And very well I might add.”
“Skirt, pants, boxers, whatever.” Eden waves a hand, the sleeve of his massively oversized black hoodie sliding down over his hand. Though Charlie can’t see his wrists, the jingle of beads lets him know Eden’s got a stack of bracelets underneath. “You’re eye-fucking me like you haven’t had sex in a month, and we both know that isn’t true.”
“Definitely not true,” Charlie smirks, thinking of how vigorously he and Eden had fucked on the couch and the bed and in the kitchen, just yesterday.
“Surprised you can get horny with how tired you look.”
“Ouch,” Charlie laughs, before filling his mouth full of food. Judging by the speed he’s eating his burrito, this is one of those times he went so long without eating he didn’t even notice he was hungry anymore, his stomach suddenly like an empty pit.
“Seriously, did you sleep at all?”
“Course I did,” Charlie lies.
It’s a bad habit, and he doesn’t lie about things thatmatter, but his erratic sleep schedule always makes people—namely Alec and Andrew—worry in ways that leave Charlie feeling guilty. Alec is his younger brother, he shouldn’t be worrying about Charlie, and Andrew worries too much about everything as it is. When he was a teenager, going on a few hours sleep or days without it was fine. In his thirties, not so much.
“If I jerk you off, will you go home and take a nap?”
Charlie chokes on his burrito, coughing out bits of rice onto his steering wheel. Eden wipes them away with a napkin from the bag without preamble.
“Don’t look scandalized. I’ve seen your dick enough times.”
“I’m not scandalized,” Charlie grunts, swallowing his mouthful. “Just surprised.”
