Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 101168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
It was beautiful. And Edgar wished he could appreciate it instead of every sculpture and plant registering as a threat.
He let his gaze relax and scanned the area. Nothing but people enjoying their food.
“Hey!”
Edgar startled, so intent on looking for ghosts, he hadn’t noticed Jamie approach.
“Shit, sorry,” Jamie said and put a comforting hand on his arm.
Jamie looked amazing, in tight black trousers, pointy-toed black boots, and a pale pink velvet vest. Their hair looked like they just rolled out of bed, and their blue eyes glowed.
“Wow,” was all Edgar could say.
When Jamie smiled, their gazes locked. Edgar could see now that Jamie had a light spray of freckles under their eyes. He wanted to kiss them.
“Hi,” they said. “Shall we go in?”
Edgar followed Jamie inside, admiring the play of their muscles beneath tattooed skin.
“Wendon-Dale, for two,” Jamie said, and a man dressed in all black led them to a table in the corner of the dining room.
Edgar couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to a restaurant like this. A napkin-in-your-lap, would-you-like-to-see-the-wine-menu, very-good-sir place.
Jamie seemed perfectly at home, making polite small talk with the maître d’ and ordering water for the table.
Edgar had scanned the place when they walked to their table, but now that they were seated, he had the opportunity to check things out more thoroughly. The huge painting of a shipwreck on the nearest wall, the drape of white tablecloths on each table, the freestanding ice buckets for champagne. Chances were that to everyone else in the restaurant, the decor spoke of luxury. To Edgar, however, it was just a collection of lines and textures he had to ignore so that he could search for beings that shouldn’t be there.
“You want to see the wine list?” Jamie was asking him, holding out a slim folder.
“Not for me, thanks. Go ahead though,” he told Jamie.
Jamie ordered a glass of white wine and thanked the waiter. “I was worried you might not show,” they said with a wry smile.
“What? I would never do that.”
“Well, I don’t really know you yet.”
“I guess that’s what dates are for,” Edgar said.
They pored over their menus instead of talking, though Edgar wasn’t really seeing the words in front of him, too occupied with trying to divide his attention between Jamie and keeping a vigilant watch on his surroundings. As a result, he pointed to something when the waiter came and instantly forgot what he’d ordered. Then, with no business left to attend to, they were left in silence once again.
Edgar searched his mind for questions to ask on a date. Suddenly he regretted the amount of time he’d spent scoping out the restaurant, wishing he’d spent it memorizing conversational topics instead.
“So,” he began, hoping that somehow when next he opened his mouth, something interesting would come out. “What do you do?”
Oh, excellent. Truly inspired. Definitely not the most banal question of all time.
But Jamie’s eyes lit, and they leaned in. “I’m a haunter. I design haunted houses. Well, any haunt, really, but my main gig is working on House of Screams, the haunted house just outside the city. D’you know it?”
Edgar’s brain screeched to a halt. Haunted houses? Haunted, like, by ghosts. His first date in forever… The first person he was excited about in forever. And their job was making the world scarier? His heart sank.
“I’m not familiar,” Edgar managed, flustered, hoping his voice sounded normal.
Jamie’s expression suggested it had not.
“Are you nervous?” Jamie’s expression was so kind it made him squirm.
“Yes,” Edgar said. “That obvious?” But he knew it was.
“Yeah, pretty much,” Jamie said. “Can I ask why?”
Even putting aside his experiences with ghosts, Edgar had never been good with people. He hadn’t needed to be, because he’d had his siblings and Cameron and Antoine, a built-in friend group that had accepted him as he was. It was only after losing Antoine, then Cameron, then Poe, that Edgar realized how unusual such acceptance had been.
“Because I don’t really do this. Dating thing. Talking thing. People can never tell when I’m kidding. Sometimes it takes me a long time to think of what to ask because I don’t want to intrude, but then people think I’m not interested in them. Um.” I get distracted looking for ghosts and may need to flee at any moment. Just your ordinary haunted shit.
Jamie looked thoughtful. “How do you feel about truth or dare?”
“Um. The game?” Edgar asked.
“Yeah, y’know, sleepovers and middle school parties. Truth or dare.”
Poe and Allie and Cameron and Antoine, kicking rocks and running wild, daring each other absurdly. Jump over that fallen log, steal a pack of gum, sneak into the church at midnight, jump off the highest branch and into the—no, don’t think about that. Don’t think.
“It’s definitely been a while.”
“The people I work with,” Jamie said, “they dare each other constantly. It’s silly, but when I started doing it to connect with my coworkers, it actually worked. Might help break the ice?”