Chapter 19 Eden
Eden loses track of how long he stands on the front steps, hands hanging at his side. He should knock. He needs to knock.
Or he could leave. Charlie might not even notice. There will be plenty of people here today, people Eden doesn’t know. People who know and love Charlie, who will take one look at Eden and know what Eden knows and Charlie doesn’t—that he isn’t good enough.
Fuck.
The longer he stands outside, the more impossible knocking seems. What the actual fuck is he doing here, at Charlie’s Friendsgiving?
And dressed up. Looking down at himself, he suddenly worries he should’ve worn jeans and a hoodie.
One of Charlie’s brothers is a jock—a football coach Charlie said.
Sure, he also said he’s recently come out as bisexual and has a boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean he will be chill with what Eden is wearing.
In fact, Eden has no idea how safe it’ll be to be, well—himself.
This morning, fresh out of the shower and eager to see Charlie, he let Addy and Ella help him choose his outfit.
He’d stupidly let himself get excited. He’d even let Addy talk him into borrowing one of her favorite sweaters.
It’s black, but cut in a deep v showing off Eden’s neck and throat, layered with so many necklaces they’ll probably tangle.
He’s got just as many bracelets on, the excessive jewelry and makeup feeling almost like a shield.
He also let Ella pick out his skirt, and she’d naturally picked the fanciest one he owns but has rarely worn—layers of delicate cream tulle that shimmer in the sun and a bow in the back that highlights Eden’s tiny waist. He’s longed to have an excuse to wear it somewhere besides one of Ella’s tea parties, ever since Addy got it for him last year.
He has yet to be brave enough to wear it anywhere.
When he’d looked in the mirror, the delicate skirt and form fitting sweater made him feel pretty—something he’d never, ever been allowed to want to be before.
Bile rises in his throat as he reaches up to touch his hair. He’s worn it down. It skims his shoulders, and Eden twitches with the need to put it up, to hide it. How did he think this was going to be okay?
Turning to leave, he makes it halfway down the front path when he hears the door open.
“Eden?”
Everything in him wants to run. Charlie’s voice anchors him, feet rooted to the spot. He stares at his pink Converse, at the peeling plastic on the sides and the small hole near his toe. He didn’t have nicer shoes, and even if he had, he wouldn’t have worn them.
“Where are you going?”
Eden doesn’t answer. Can’t answer. Can’t look up. If he sees Charlie’s big brown eyes and handsome smile, he’s going to cave. He knows it.
“Hey.” Charlie’s voice softens as he moves around to stand in front of Eden. “Wow.”
Braver than he feels, Eden lifts his head and locks gazes with Charlie.
He’s clearly tried to tame his hair today, his shirt something silky and soft that’s cut low at the throat.
His pants are a hideous pattern with colorful blobs, and he’s got on another pair of garish Crocs with little pie charms. The outfit is hideous, and Charlie looks perfect. The fucker.
“You look…holy shit.”
“Shut up,” Eden hisses, tugging on the sleeves of Addy’s sweater. He can’t believe he wore this. He should’ve changed. It’s too much. It’s—
“You look so beautiful.”
Oh.
Oh.
There’s a lump in Eden’s throat. It might be his breakfast trying to come back up. Might be his heart trying to figure out if this is the best or worst moment of his life. He can’t fucking tell. All he knows is no one has ever fucking looked at him the way Charlie King is right now.
Over the years, Eden has seen men look at him with arousal, with longing, with a desire to possess. He’s seen disgust and confusion in equal measure. But no one has ever looked at him like he was something special, something precious.
Definitely the worst thing to ever happen to him. Fucking Charlie. How the fuck is Eden supposed to come back from this? How is he supposed to move on when Charlie does? This is too much.
“Fuck, baby.” Charlie inches forward, crowding into Eden’s space. Eden should push him away, should hit him or yell. Should do anything it takes to make him stop looking at Eden like this. “I’m so glad you came.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Eden shrugs. It’s not the truth. It’s possibly the scariest thing Eden has ever done in his life. It’s a big fucking deal.
“Can I touch your hair?” Charlie asks, rubbing his forehead against Eden’s like a needy, overgrown cat. “Please.”
“No,” Eden snaps, pretty sure if Charlie does one more goddamn nice thing he’s going to run into oncoming traffic.
“Maybe later,” Charlie murmurs.
Why isn’t he put off by Eden? He should be.
“Don’t count on it,” Eden grumbles.
“That’s okay.” Charlie kisses his forehead, pulling back and dragging his eyes down Eden’s body. “At least I get to look at you.”
Squirming, Eden wishes he had something to cover up. He’s never worn a top like this before, and suddenly he wants to be in one of his usual oversized t-shirts.
“It’s Addy’s sweater,” he blurts.
“Looks good on you.” Charlie reaches for Eden’s hand, lifting it. “Come on, give us a spin.”
“Drop dead.”
“Please.”
“Absolutely fucking not.”
To Eden’s horror, Charlie shrugs, lifting Eden’s hand higher and keeping it in his own as he walks around Eden, whistling softly. “Fucking gorgeous.”
Heat pools low in Eden’s gut. Stupid Charlie and his stupid sexy voice.
“Can I suck your dick?”
“Everyone is inside,” Charlie says, taking another spin around Eden. He pauses behind him, fingering the bow. “I really like this.”
“You can suck my dick.”
“Everyone—”
“Is inside,” Eden finishes, pretty sure he'd rather walk into coming traffic rather than do this. He can’t believe he’s doing this. He’s not sure why he’s doing this. Actually, he does know and that makes it all so much fucking worse.
“We can fuck later,” Charlie says, “I want you to meet everyone.”
“Do we have to?” Eden grumbles, unsure why his feet are following Charlie when his brain wants to do anything but.
“You don’t have to.” Charlie stops, turning to face Eden. “I thought you wanted to come.”
I want to come for you, Eden thinks. The only thing worse than feeling this way would be admitting it out loud.
“Who’s here?”
“Almost everyone, just waiting on one friend. He’s running late.”
A full house then. Eden’s worst nightmare.
“Did you change your mind?” Charlie asks, concern evident in his tone.
Yes.
“No,” Eden says in lieu of the truth, pretty sure relationships are the worst thing in the entire world.
Stupid fucking feelings making him want to make Charlie happy, to be near him even in a house full of strangers.
Caring about another person is horrible.
Most days, Eden doesn’t even want to care about himself.
All this is doing is opening him up to more chances for hurt and rejection.
There’s no way all of Charlie’s friends and family are going to look at Eden and approve.
This might be one of the stupidest things Eden has ever done. A lifetime of self-preservation skills thrown down the drain because of dick.
Dick and a pretty face.
Dick and a pretty face and an annoying personality Eden can’t get enough of.
“Everyone is inside.” Charlie links their fingers, all but tugging him towards the front door as if he can’t wait to show Eden off. Dumbass.
Dread pools in the pit of Eden’s stomach as he’s guided inside, where he is immediately confronted with Charlie’s home filled with the rich, enticing aroma of home cooked food and the sounds of laughter.
There’s an older woman on the couch talking to a man with bright red hair.
He’s tall, folded in on himself where he’s curled in the corner with a giant dog in his lap.
Both of them look up at Charlie’s approach, and with a soft whine, the dog tries to crawl further into the red-headed man.
“It’s okay, Freddie,” the man murmurs.
“Guys, this is Eden,” Charlie says, as if they should already know who he is.
“Charlie King, you introduce me properly,” the older woman scolds.
“Sorry.” Charlie ducks his head. “Eden, this is Mabel. She’s the office assistant at Santa Leon High School where Jason works, and she can’t get enough of us King men.”
“Charlie’s full of shit,” Mabel replies without missing a beat. “I’m old, and they won’t let me retire or leave me alone.”
“But Mabel, we love you.”
Mabel scoffs, but there’s a smile on her face that is accentuated by the heavy blush on her cheeks. Eden knows exactly what shade it is, used to wear it himself when all he could afford was makeup from the pharmacy.
“Maybelline,” Eden blurts, snapping his mouth shut when everyone turns to look at him. “The uh…your blush.”
“It is.” Mabel touches her cheeks, her smile softening. “My husband Jim liked it.”
“It suits you,” Eden tells her. It’s a bit too heavy, but she’s beautiful in the way everyone who gets to be that old is. Eden never thought about growing old. He didn’t even think he’d live to be twenty. God, a therapist would have a field day with him.
“That’s Freddie hiding right there,” Charlie says, pointing out the dog. “He’s Jason’s rescue. And that pretty man is Emerson, he—”
“Anyone want a drink?” Someone asks, their booming voice making Eden jump.
That voice belongs to a mountain of a man—several inches taller than Charlie and twice as wide. His thighs alone are thicker than Eden’s waist, his arms equally massive. Everything about him, from his body to the athletic wear he’s dressed in, screams jock. Involuntarily, Eden takes a step back.
“Is this Eden?” The man says, moving directly towards Eden. “Nice to meet you. I’m this asshole’s more handsome brother. I’m sure he’s told you all about me.”
“No,” Eden says, holding Charlie’s hand so tight he’s surprised he hasn’t cut off the circulation.