Chapter 3 #3
His boss was less than impressed when Eden pointed out he shouldn’t have to field sexual harassment to serve people food, insisting if Eden was actually uncomfortable he should have gone through the proper channels with HR.
As if Eden would ever. There’s not a chance in hell HR would have cared that Eden gets treated like a thing by rich people, not when it would jeopardize their entire catering contract.
The only person who is going to protect Eden is Eden, and tonight, protecting himself means shutting off his feelings and resisting the urge to tell this douche canoe to ride off Niagara Falls, which would definitely not be a smart thing to do.
Eden isn’t really that smart, but he’s got self-preservation instincts, and all of them are telling him to shut his fucking mouth and pretend this guy doesn't make his skin crawl.
“You should let me draw you,” he suggests, clearly having no problem with Eden’s lack of response to his earlier question.
At this point, Eden strongly suspects consent is not a word this fucker understands.
Then again, people like him rarely do. When you have enough money, you can do anything, have anything.
“No” isn’t a word men like this understand, even if Eden was allowed to say it.
Eden might be standing in the middle of a well-lit gallery but the darkness in his head is oppressive as he fights off unwanted memories. He did what he had to survive then, and he will do it again. The same way he’s always done.
“Are you an artist?” Eden asks with a forced smile, wishing Addy were here to witness this monumental display of self-restraint.
“I’m not,” the man replies, lifting his champagne glass towards one of the gallery walls. “I’m more of a connoisseur. I bought quite a few pieces tonight, not that I’m bragging mind you. But looking at you, well what can I say. You make me want to become an artist.”
It’s a miracle Eden doesn’t throw up in his mouth. Fuck this fucking dickbag.
“I’m sure with your…wealth, you can learn,” Eden replies, desperately trying to figure out how to get out of this conversation without getting in trouble. He cannot curse out this asshole or tell him that his overinflated ego is the single most unattractive thing Eden has ever seen. Unfortunately.
“You could be my canvas,” he smirks.
Bile rises up the back of his throat, gagging him.
“They offer beginners art classes at the museum across town.”
As if appearing out of thin air, Charlie is beside him and smiling that handsome fucking smile of his. Eden hates him a little for it. Goddamn this nice fucker. Eden doesn’t need to be rescued. Okay well, maybe he did, but that won’t stop him from being surly about it.
“I’m more interested in private lessons,” the man replies, eying Charlie like one might eye something unsavory.
“I think they offer those as well, though if you hit on the teachers there and make them as uncomfortable as you’re making him, they’d probably drop you.”
“How dare you,” the man hisses, fingers clenched so tightly around the stem of his glass it’s a wonder the thing doesn’t shatter.
“Oh I dare,” Charlie grins, crossing his arms.
Up close his outfit is even more outrageous. Eden watched him from across the room all night, noticing the way he weaves in and out of conversations, flirts and flatters without staying in one place. His clothing draws attention, though unlike Eden, he seems to revel in it.
“You might think twice about speaking to me like this in the future.”
“I promise you, I won’t think twice about you at all,” Charlie replies, his congenial expression never wavering.
It’s such a concise and brutal take down that Eden hardly knows what to do with himself. Gratitude is not an emotion he has any idea how to handle, nor is the simmering attraction he feels to the man standing beside him.
Eden does not want men, at least not specific men; especially not one who looks like he got dressed using an Andy Warhol painting as inspiration.
Even his Crocs are eye-catchingly bold. Something that Eden is annoyed he’s attracted to.
Sure sometimes Eden wants sex, but in that vague way someone might want food when they’re hungry; a craving that anything can fill—or in Eden’s case filling someone else up anyway, since he hasn’t let anyone fuck him in years.
Not since—well, Eden doesn’t like to think about that.
Sex has always been transactional, emotionally and financially, and nothing else.
Sure, Eden has been attracted to his partners before because he’s gay, and men are sexy.
Men are also stupid fuckers and not always safe, so Eden avoids them like the plague when he can.
On the rare occasions his loneliness or horniness gets out of hand, he seeks out release from the first easy, non-threatening man he can find.
There was a time when sex was the only way anyone would touch Eden. When he had no say in how things happened, no power. It’s been a long time since then, but the memories sometimes feel like yesterday.
“Good, he’s gone,” Charlie announces once the other man realizes nothing he says is going to get a rise out of Eden or Charlie and finally departs. “Hmm, Addy.”
Glancing down at his name tag, Eden blows out a heavy breath. This isn’t the first time he’s worn Addy’s name tag when she couldn’t work the same shift as Eden, but it is the first time anyone has called him on it. He’s not sure he enjoys being perceived.
“My name could be Addy,” Eden asserts.
“Could be,” Charlie grins. He doesn’t lean closer or move into Eden’s personal space. “But we both know it’s not.”
“Whatever,” Eden grumbles. Sure he was full of shit, but he doesn’t need to be called on it.
“So are you going to give me your real name tonight?” Charlie asks with a smile. His teeth are so straight he probably had regular dental care or braces. Maybe both. Eden runs his tongue along his own uneven teeth, reminding him of why he so rarely smiles.
Charlie really is stupidly handsome with his messy hair and tan skin and a blinding smile. The fucker.
“What, you think just because you rescued me from some dickhead making unwanted advances you deserve my name?”
“Here I was hoping you’d give it to me just because you thought I was cute.
” Charlie’s expression softens in a way that makes Eden want to run away.
People don’t look at Eden like this. They look at him with attraction or annoyance.
Hell, even confusion sometimes, depending on what he wears.
Definitely not with whatever the fuck expression is on Charlie’s face right now.
“You don’t owe me anything for intervening, especially not your name. ”
It’s a very decent thing to say; Eden has no idea how to reply. He can’t even be rude right now because that would make him an asshole, and while he’s half-feral and definitely uncultured, he doesn’t want to be a dick when it’s unwarranted.
Charlie shoves his hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders. “Look I’m the first to admit I’m a flirt, but I don’t ever want to direct that somewhere it’s not wanted. I thought maybe you were a little interested in me, but if you’re not that’s alright. I can leave and—”
“One night,” Eden interrupts, because if he has to listen to Charlie for one more second, he’s going to get himself fired. Whether that’s from dropping to his knees or getting in a fight, Eden has no fucking idea.
“Huh?”
“One night.” Eden squares his shoulders, refusing to show an ounce of the insecurity he feels. “One fuck, with rules.”
“Okay,” Charlie agrees, even easier than he expected.
“You don’t even know what my rules are yet,” Eden points out.
“I’m still in,” Charlie says.
He’s either a masochist or a dipshit. Somehow his reckless stupidity turns Eden on, which is absolutely fucking ridiculous.
“I can’t tell if you’re that desperate or—”
“A slut,” Charlie finishes loudly, earning them several confused stares.
“I mean I wasn’t going to say it out loud.”
“But you were thinking it,” Charlie laughs.
Eden shrugs. He can be polite sometimes, but he sure as shit isn’t a liar.
“What makes you so sure it’s not just me being mesmerized by you?” Charlie asks.
Well, that settles that question. Charlie’s a dipshit with questionable judgment and taste.
Eden is a walking red flag. He knows it, other people know it.
Charlie must know it. Why he wants to fuck is beyond Eden, but he’s too grumpy and horny to care about someone else making questionable life choices.
Charlie is clearly old enough to make his own decisions.
For whatever reason, he wants Eden, and Eden wants him too.
There’s no point in denying it when he’s got a golden opportunity for a no-strings-attached fuck with a hot guy who will likely move on to someone new tomorrow.
The only thing holding Eden back is that he doesn’t like running into the people he’s had sex with.
Fucking someone with such a close degree of separation from his only job is exactly the kind of messy entanglement Eden normally avoids.
He should just say thank you and move on.
Then again, Eden’s been working this serving job for a few months, and this is the first time he’s seen Charlie at this gallery.
After tonight, he might never see him again.
In fact, he hopes he never sees him again.
Just because he’s itching for sex doesn’t mean he needs to fuck Charlie. He shouldn’t fuck Charlie. He could pick someone up at a club or anywhere else. He should pick up anyone else.
Alas, Eden rarely does what he should.
“Tonight. One and done. No phone numbers. No feelings. No repeats. You in?”
Charlie’s smirk is unfairly sexy. “I’m in.”