Chapter 5 Eden #2
Between Eden’s don’t-look-at-me baggy black clothing, which is in stark contrast to his notice-me eye makeup and his resting bitch face, people usually have no idea what to do with him, so they do nothing.
They look once then look away, which is how he likes it.
Charlie looked and hasn’t stopped looking, and while Eden’s dick is on board with the attention, his brain is definitely not.
“Those are some impressive observational skills, what, did you major in the obvious?”
“Actually I got my degree in fine arts with a concentration in painting,” Charlie answers. “I almost went for my masters but decided I wanted to experience art over learning about it which is how I got a job at the Santa Leon Art Museum. Although I work freelance now.”
Ugh. Handsome and educated. Yet another reason it was a good idea not to fuck him.
Eden didn’t even graduate high school. Not that he’s embarrassed by his lack of education.
Not exactly. It’s not Eden’s fault the foster system and by extension the public school system is broken.
A few times—usually when he struggled to find a decent paying job—he considered trying to get his GED.
The classes themselves aren’t too expensive, but he can’t afford to pay for classes and lose work attending them.
Besides, as far as Eden is concerned, it’s not worth stressing out over a stupid ass piece of paper that won’t change anything.
“Why exactly are you telling me all this?”
“Because we’re having a conversation,” Charlie answers like it’s obvious.
This man is the poster boy for being a well-adjusted member of society. It’s horrible.
“No, we’re not,” Eden challenges. “I’m mopping, and you’re talking. This is not a conversation.”
“By definition a conversation is two or more people engaging in back and forth dialogue, so technically we are.”
“Oh my god, are you always like this?” Eden groans, abandoning all pretenses of pretending to mop in favor of glaring at Charlie.
It would be more effective if he weren’t so stupidly tall and Eden didn’t have to tip his chin up so high.
He narrows his eyes, annoyed at Charlie’s audacity to be handsome and tall.
Fuck this asshole and his conversation and niceness.
“I suppose it depends on who you ask,” Charlie says. “But probably yes. Are you always like this?”
“What? Difficult? Unapproachable? Rude?”
“I was going to say sexy and challenging,” Charlie says with a wink.
Before this day is over Eden’s either going to walk himself into traffic or fuck Charlie, and he has no idea which would be worse.
The way Charlie is looking at him, playful and flirty, like he’s enjoying talking to Eden, is kind of a turn on.
Maybe Eden is attracted to stupidity because Charlie’s clearly a fucking moron if he’s still attracted to Eden after being insulted, stood up and then insulted again. Maybe he has a degradation kink.
The headache Eden’s been fighting off rears its ugly head, throbbing between his eyes.
It could be that he only slept four hours last night, or that he hasn’t ingested anything today except an energy drink which is definitely not food.
Or maybe it’s that he is still, for reasons entirely unknown, attracted to Charlie, which pisses him the fuck off.
Santa Leon is full of men, and Eden does a really fucking knockout job of ignoring all of them.
Or at least he did. Before Charlie. Fucking Charlie, ugh.
Maybe it’s his clothing. It attracts attention like a fucking traffic cone in the middle of the freeway.
It’s got to be the clothes. Maybe naked he’d be less.
Less what, Eden exactly isn’t sure. Less attractive maybe.
Less noticeable or maybe just less Charlie-ish.
The burgeoning headache makes it difficult to think clearly.
“Look,” Eden sighs. “Today is my first day on the job, I didn’t sleep last night, and I’m pretty sure I’m testing the limits of how much caffeine one person can safely ingest.”
Charlie opens his mouth, but Eden makes a noise to cut him off.
“No, I don't want anyone’s opinion on that, especially not yours. Yes, I’m kind of an asshole. Yes, I’m always like this. Yes, I’m a little bit sorry for being a dick. No, you’re not special. No, I won’t apologize a second time, take it or leave it. Does that answer all your questions?”
“To be honest, you answered a lot of questions I didn’t even have.”
“Look,” Eden exhales. “Just…don’t complain to my boss. Addy knows the owner’s daughter, which is the only reason I got the job, and I really fucking need it. Seriously, I can’t fucking lose this job.”
Expecting a witty retort, Eden is unsure what to make of the silence that follows instead.
“Are you going to say anything?”
“Wasn’t sure if I was allowed to,” Charlie answers. “You’re a little scary for someone so small.”
“Don’t call me small,” Eden demands, jabbing his pointer finger in Charlie’s chest. He pulls his hand back when he catches the couple at the table in the corner stop eating their chips and salsa in favor of staring.
“él es un pendejo,” Eden says by way of explanation.
The couple whisper to each other, too low and quick for Eden to pick up on.
Most of the Spanish he knows he’s picked up from living in the area.
While he can’t read or write it, he can speak enough to get by, usually.
Rosio offered to teach him more but only time will tell if that will pan out, or if he will even manage to keep this job.
“While I don’t speak very much Spanish I do, in fact, know that word,” Charlie gapes. He looks mildly offended, and Eden isn’t sure if he feels guilty or turned on. “Alec calls me that enough to have cemented it in my otherwise embarrassingly small repertoire of Spanish.”
“Who is Alec?” Eden asks before he can stop himself. “Wait, I don’t want to know. Do not answer that question.”
“Obviously you want to know or you wouldn’t have asked,” Charlie says with the air of someone very pleased. Great, Eden’s gone and encouraged him. Shit.
“I have to work, shoo.”
“What am I a dog?” Charlie chuckles.
“You said it, not me.” Eden shoves the mop into the bucket with too much force, causing some of the dirty water to splash out. He drags the caution sign over it before glaring at Charlie and dragging the mop bucket towards the back room.
To his utter mortification, Charlie lets out an unmistakably soft bark.
It’s ridiculous as fuck, but his lack of concern with the opinions of anyone else is definitely a turn on.
Eden really wishes it wasn’t a fireable offence to whack customers with a wet mop because that’s what he wants to do to Charlie right now.
“I’ll wait for you to come back,” Charlie calls.
The small restaurant only has a few customers but all of them turn to stare.
“Don’t bother,” Eden replies, refusing to turn around and look to see if Charlie is watching him.
Not wanting to appear lazy on his first day, Eden hurries to the back room to clean up the mopping supplies before taking a quick restroom break to wash his hands and check his makeup.
Though he’d worn some makeup during his interview, he made sure to keep it a bit more subtle until he was sure how it might be received.
He did it again today too, forgoing his usual skirts and favorite hot pink glitter eyeshadow in favor of a midnight blue eyeliner and a smidgen of silver eyeshadow.
Given that his all black outfit—consisting of his favorite oversized band tee from a thrift store with a thermal underneath to hide his tattoos, worn jeans with holes in the knees, and scuffed up Converse—makes him look like he’s a ragtag teenager, the makeup is probably a little jarring, but Eden’s never cared about what people thought of him.
Based on the way Charlie’s gaze roamed all over Eden before, he clearly liked what he saw.
And maybe Eden doesn’t give a flying fuck what men think of him, but he’s also not immune to the glimmer of power it gives him when someone like Charlie—definitely older, handsome, has his shit together, and is a functioning adult—wants him.
Any pleasure is short lived the moment Eden realizes his gaze is lingering on his reflection in the mirror. He does not care what Charlie thinks of his clothes or makeup. He doesn’t care what Charlie thinks of him period.
Liar, his subconscious screams at him as he drags his thumb over the corner of his eye where his liner has smudged. Ugh.
Eden can’t even remember the last time he wanted to fuck anyone.
He gets horny plenty, but either he’s too tired to care or he handles it alone.
The same way he handles everything else.
It’s been months since he fucked someone and even then it was mostly desperation and the absolute fucking mood crash he experiences on his birthday every year.
His birthday isn’t for a couple of months, so he can’t even blame whatever the hell is going on with him right now on that.
He’s definitely not drunk, but he sure as fuck must be desperate.
Tugging on his hair, he barely resists the urge to scream. This isn’t like Eden, and he hates it. Wanting someone else, even just their body, is way too close to surrender for his liking.
Taking several steadying breaths, Eden reminds himself that he is the one in control of this situation.
He just needs to get over whatever the fuck preoccupation he has going on with Charlie.
The fact that he almost fucked him means nothing.
Eden came to his senses before anything happened.
Charlie being here now is a needed reminder that Eden should absolutely never have physical relations with anyone in close proximity to his daily life.
He did the right thing standing Charlie up, albeit an asshole thing, but still the right thing for Eden. That’s all that matters.