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)
“Your brother is named Poe?”
Allie and Edgar nodded as they always had when people noticed.
“And you’re Allie.”
They nodded again.
“So you’re Edgar, Allie, and…Poe. Is that—that has to be on purpose, right?”
“Yes,” Allie said. “Our mom was a big fan.”
At the same time, Edgar said, “Our mom was in a cult.”
Jamie’s expression froze at the word cult, their blue eyes so wide and bright that Edgar almost laughed. Being the subject of Jamie’s fascination was a heady drug.
“We didn’t grow up in the cult,” Edgar explained.
“It was when she was younger,” Allie clarified. “But she was out by the time I was born. Mostly,” she added.
Jamie’s eyes got wider.
“She and our dad met there. Anyway, they asked everyone to choose a new name when they joined, one better suited to who they wanted to become, and Mom chose Lenore. So she named us to fit with her. My legal name is Allan—with an a.”
Jamie blew out an impressed breath. “Damn. I would really like to be invited over to hear many stories from y’all’s childhood.”
“You’ve got it,” Allie said. “Now, as much as I deeply—and I do mean deeply—want to watch Edgar try on clothes he wouldn’t ordinarily wear, I’m at the end of my ability to remain upright and will now drag my ass home.”
“Want me to walk you?” Edgar asked. She did look more tired than usual.
Allie gave him a quiet smile. “No. I’m good.” She turned to Jamie. “Listen. I am going to need some photographic evidence that this happened. Please. In fact.” She pulled out her phone. “Lemme give you my number so that you can text them to me.”
Jamie brandished their phone in what was clearly a promise.
When the door finally closed behind Allie, Edgar let out a sigh. He adored his sister, but he’d been looking forward to seeing Jamie all day.
Jamie held out their arms, smiling softly, and Edgar walked into them. He nuzzled into Jamie’s scent—something zingy and delicious—and breathed deeply for what felt like the first time in days.
He and Jamie had texted all week, but Edgar hadn’t wanted to focus on the bad shit. Now though, in Jamie’s arms, he let the waves of the week break over him.
“Hey, hey,” Jamie murmured, stroking his back. “You okay? What’s up?”
Trying to keep it light, Edgar said, “Just a ghost-heavy week.”
Jamie squeezed him tighter. “I’m so sorry. Want to tell me about it?”
Exhaustion swept over Edgar at the idea of describing the incidents. One of the loneliest things about his encounters was that to tell someone about them was to relive them, with no real sense of relief.
“No thanks. Not just now. I’m okay.”
Jamie pulled away enough to examine his face. “Yeah?” They didn’t seem convinced.
“I’m ready to try on clothes, so.”
“Okay. Let’s see who Edgar Lovejoy is.”
They pushed the rack of clothes in front of the door so no one could see in, and Jamie changed the music to something Edgar didn’t know. It was low and smoky and seductive. It reminded Edgar of Jamie.
Jamie asked questions. A lot of questions. Mostly questions to which Edgar didn’t know the answers—“How do you want to feel in your clothes?” “What makes you feel powerful?” “How do you want others to perceive you?”—but just having Jamie’s full attention on him was intoxicating.
Between questions, Jamie wandered around the store muttering, pulling things from racks and off shelves and adding them to the pieces Allie had left them.
Finally, they turned to him.
“Okay. I think we should just try a lot of different things, because you have no idea what you want. Right?”
Edgar felt a pang of anxiety. “Right.”
Jamie clapped, eyes shining. “This is gonna be so fucking fun. I want you to close your eyes, and I’m gonna hand you stuff to put on.”
Edgar didn’t like to close his eyes. Closing your eyes was how you got snuck up on.
“Why?”
“Because I want you to get the full effect of the whole outfit on you as opposed to forming opinions about the individual pieces in the abstract.”
For the first time, Edgar was struck by how much thought Jamie was putting into this. He’d gotten the sense this was a fun excuse for Jamie to dress him up, see how he’d look. And he’d been fine with that. More than fine. Jamie’s eyes on him, no matter the reason, were very welcome. But although he had no doubt Jamie was having fun, this was something more.
Jamie dressed to express themself—gender, personality, interests, style, opinions. It was something that had drawn him to Jamie when they’d first met, the sense that Jamie knew exactly who they were and had no interest in hiding it.
Now Jamie was trying to give Edgar the chance to stop hiding. The chance to show himself to the world instead of trying to be invisible. It was a scary but intoxicating proposition.