Ride the Wreck (Stonewall Investigations Blue Creek 2)

“That’s the first time I tried that effect on the eyes. Looks pretty lit, huh?”

“I feel like a fucking supermodel.” Ryan batted his lashes, which were long enough to justify not using fake ones.

“Here, put this on.” I went over to the hanging wardrobe rack and picked the largest dress I had: a flowery and flowy piece that I used for a “We’re serving the full fantasy tonight.”

Ryan was seemingly down for anything. He was already standing and working on taking his shirt off without messing up the wig or the makeup. “Let me help.” I went over and grabbed the collar of his shirt, stretching it a bit, making sure it didn’t touch his face as he took it off and over the wig. Somehow, I ended up with the shirt in my hand and a half-naked and half-dragged Ryan standing inches away from me.

And… holy fucking shit, wow. A sickening queen wasn’t the only thing Ryan had been hiding.

I pried my gaze off his tantalizing six-pack to see that he was already working on the button of his pants. “Oh, you don’t—okay, sure.” No point in stopping him. He had kicked off his shoes and pulled off his pants in a move that was way too smooth and left my pussy fucking quaking. Seriously, I felt faint. Like I was a milkmaid walking in on a Calvin Klein commercial.

He picked up his pants, muscular thighs twitching as he bent. He wore a simple pair of gray briefs that were cut as close as possible to his package without risking a wardrobe malfunction. I handed him the dress, regretfully. If it were up to me and my tightening core, I would have had him walk over to my bedroom, and we could have explored an entirely different type of fantasy tonight.

Ryan slipped into the dress easily and even gave a twirl. It looked way tighter on him than on me, and somehow, it also looked way better. “You’re such a bitch,” I said, crossing my arms and shaking my head.

“What? Why?”

“Because you look better in drag than I do.”

He smirked and waved a hand in the air before turning around and checking himself out in the floor-length mirror. There was definitely something beautiful in Ryan’s powerful frame, softened by the pastel-colored daisies and poppies printed across the white dress. His face had been completely transformed into someone who could easily grace the cover of any high-fashion mag—if he learned how to find his light. There were a few things that drag queens feared more than death itself, one of them being bad lighting (overhead fluorescent bulbs should be outlawed). Humidity was also a top contender for worst fears, but ghoulish lighting beat it out.

“You’ve created a monster,” he said, turning to me, a strand of hair falling across his forehead. Ryan tucked it behind his ear in a move that seemed like second nature to him.

“I’ve created a queen, honey.” I still couldn’t get over how good Ryan looked. Nor how good he looked out of that dress either. “You need a name. We can go with the street you were raised on and the name of your first pet, or we can be less Buzzfeed quiz and come up with something more creative.”

“Yeah, I don’t think Fairview Snowflake would work anyway.”

“No, no it wouldn’t.”

Ryan went back to looking at himself in the mirror. Like a parrot admiring his feathers after forgetting he’d just done it. I couldn’t hold back the chuckle. Or the happiness, for that matter. I really didn’t think I’d get so much enjoyment out of putting Ryan in drag for the first time, but this was actually turning into one of the better nights out of any in recent memory.

“How about Channel Vuitton,” Ryan said, eyes finding mine in the mirror.

“Ohhh, okay, so you’re expensive, then, huh?”

Ryan nodded, and I laughed. “Nah, I feel like I’ve heard something similar before.” I leaned against the big green chair, trying to take in Ryan’s drag essence. He carried himself like a look queen, but I also knew there was a comedy queen waiting to strike underneath the full-face serve. Plus, his overflowing well of positivity made him approachable, which was usually the opposite when it came to the icy-cold fashion queens.

That’s when it hit me, like a comet annihilating the dinosaurs: “Sunshine Divine.”

Ryan looked at me, painted brows drawing up toward that snatched hairline. Not a lace in sight. “Sunshine Divine,” he said, trying it out on his tongue. He turned to me, face beaming. “Sunshine Divine. I like it. I think we got it.”

“I think so, too,” I said, matching the wide grin on Sunshine Divine’s face. Damn, hanging out with Ryan really came easy to me. It felt like I was sharing space with a long-lost friend. Someone who had been in my life as long as Amelia had. It bordered on scary if I thought about it too much. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like feeling so connected to someone with barely a week’s worth of time spent between us. It reminded me of my early twenties, where I’d fall for guys after one single date and then get my heart broken a few dates after the first. Never failed. Now, being on the latter end of my twenties, I felt like I didn’t have the time or energy to get caught up so quick on guys who’d let me off the hook even quicker.