“How the fuck do you know about Whaley?” He rolls his eyes. “You don’t think the pictures of him in your closet kind of tip it off?” I blanch and follow his gaze to where my clothes on the hangers are parted enough to see my Whaley collage. It’s not like they’re anything bad. Whaley just doesn’t like getting his picture taken, so I’ve had to resort to taking them when he isn’t paying attention. My favorite is the one of him leaving the shower that I managed to get through his trailer window. I promise it’s not as weird as it sounds.
