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)
***
When Edgar got to Helen and Veronica’s house to start his delivery run the next day, Helen narrowed their eyes at him.
“What’s wrong with you?”
It was a verbalization of what he assumed everyone was always thinking about him, but it was startling to hear it spoken aloud.
“Um. Nothing?”
“Exactly. Usually, you look like you’re about to cry, dissociate, or have a panic attack. But right now, you look strangely neutral, which I’m assuming is your version of glowing.”
“Have I mentioned lately that I enjoy the particular way in which you’re rude?”
“You have. Well, not lately. But really, someone only has to say it once, and I extrapolate it to every encounter I have with them.”
Edgar smiled.
“Holy crap, a real smile. Are you on drugs?”
Edgar shook his head, and they leaned in.
“Do you wanna be? Cuz V and Greta started growing weed in the backyard, and they’re, like, super good at it.”
“I’m okay, thanks.”
“Oh, right. You’re about to go deliver our product, packaged in glass, on a bike, to our important customers. Of course you can’t have weed.”
They said it loudly, and Edgar turned around. His hunch was correct. Veronica stood in the doorway, one eyebrow raised.
“Quit telling literally everyone that we’re growing weed, bro,” she said. “Edgar doesn’t even smoke.”
“I’m impressed,” Helen insisted.
Meanwhile, Veronica was looking at Edgar with her brow furrowed. “Did you win the lottery or something?” she asked finally. “You look all…” She gestured in the air toward him.
“Right?” Helen exclaimed. “That’s what I was saying. He doesn’t look like he’s about to cry or puke or run away!”
Veronica snickered. “You’re an asshole, but you’re not wrong.”
“Is that really what I look like?” Edgar asked.
“Yes,” Helen said immediately.
“Kinda,” Veronica concluded.
Edgar hoped he didn’t look as mortified as he felt. “Okay. Well. I’m gonna grab the stuff and get going. Have a good one.”
“See ya!” they chorused.
Edgar took the bike around to the back entrance where they stored the boxes of Lagniappe Lemonade and checked the clipboard for the printed delivery route. As he loaded boxes onto the bike, he could hear Veronica and Helen talking in the kitchen.
“—our employee,” Veronica was saying. “He could sue us!”
“Aw, Ronnie, he’s not gonna sue us.”
“Not the point. We all like him, but he hasn’t returned our overtures of friendship. You can’t force someone to be your friend.”
“I know,” Helen grumbled. “I just feel like…he seems so fucking lonely and sad all the time. And I don’t want anyone to feel like that. Especially another queer person.”
“I know, boo,” Veronica said. “But think about it from his perspective. Maybe to him, we’re being the creepy bosses who make personal comments about him and try to get him to do drugs.”
“Ugh. Yeah, from that perspective, we suck. Okay. I’ll be the picture of professionalism henceforth.”
“I hope you and Henceforth will be happy together. Pass me that pipe. Wait ’til you try the new strain Greta and I…”
Veronica’s voice trailed off, and Edgar figured they’d gone into the living room. He sighed. Was that really how he seemed to people?
Isn’t that how you feel? Why wouldn’t people be able to see it?
Usually, that would be the point at which Edgar went on his delivery run and never spoke about their interaction ever again. But Jamie had taken his nod in the hotel room as a complete rejection of their night together until he’d explained. He genuinely liked Helen and Veronica. He didn’t want them to think otherwise.
Edgar leaned the bike against the house and went back into the kitchen, then through to the living room. Helen and Veronica were passing the pipe back and forth and looking at a spreadsheet projected onto the large television.
He knocked on the doorframe, not wanting to startle them.
“Hey!” Helen said, a bit too chipper. “Everything okay with the bike? And the lemonade? Just all the professionally relevant things…”
Veronica snorted and shook her head.
“I like you both,” Edgar blurted. “I heard you talking in there, and I just want you to know that. I don’t think you’re creepy. I don’t feel pressured to do drugs. I’m not gonna sue you. And I—actually, I am in a good mood today. So. Thanks. For noticing.”
Helen’s grin was wide and sunny, an instant reward. Veronica’s smile was softer, more knowing.
“Yes, I knew it!” Helen crowed, punching the air. “I knew you liked us, and I knew something was different today.” They elbowed Veronica in the ribs. “I’m always fucking right about this shit.” Then, to Edgar, “Spill!”
“Huh? Oh. Um.”
“What my dear business partner meant to say,” Veronica drawled, “is that we’d love to celebrate any happiness or good fortune with you, should you choose to entrust us with the information.”
Helen snorted. “Yup. That’s exactly what I meant to say.”
They patted the couch next to them.
“I… The lemonade…?”
“Omigod, it’s fine, you can take ten minutes and tell us what’s changed your whole personality.”