MY WIFE Turned Me Into Her Wife To Show Me Off To Her Friends. part 1 (Patreon)

Covers Comic Pages 1–36

Friday nights at Alex and Elliot Hart's house were rarely quiet when Alex invited her friends over.

Elliot had learned that years ago.

Alexandra Hart could turn a casual drink into something that looked like it had been organized by a luxury hotel. Candles burned on the coffee table. Expensive bottles appeared from cupboards Elliot had forgotten existed. The women arrived dressed like they might accidentally end up photographed somewhere important.

Celeste, Naomi, Charlotte and Emilia had taken over the living room before eight.

Elliot had chosen the safest corner of the sofa.

Laptop open.

Head down.

Invisible, ideally.

That was usually possible until alcohol made Alex's friends start discussing their husbands.

"My husband asked me what shirt goes with black trousers," Celeste complained.

Naomi looked horrified. "Please tell me the shirt wasn't white."

"It was white."

Charlotte groaned.

Alex took an elegant sip of her drink, looking far too pleased with herself.

"Elliot dresses himself," she said. "Cooks too."

Elliot slowly looked over the top of his laptop.

"Can my performance review happen when I'm not here?"

The women laughed.

He returned to his screen.

That should have been the end of it.

It wasn't.

Charlotte stared across the room at him for a moment.

Elliot could practically feel it.

"He's too quiet," she decided. "Alex could put him in a skirt and he'd probably apologize to it."

Elliot stopped typing.

Very slowly, he lowered the laptop.

"There it is," he muttered. "The sentence I'm going to regret."

Celeste laughed.

Then she made the mistake.

"Please. He'd look ridiculous."

Alex looked at her.

Celeste gestured casually toward Elliot.

"His face is obviously masculine."

Elliot knew his wife extremely well.

He knew the difference between Alex being amused and Alex becoming competitive.

One eyebrow rose.

That was enough.

"Alexandra," Elliot warned. "Don't."

"I haven't done anything."

"Your face has."

Naomi covered her mouth to hide a laugh.

Alex calmly put her glass on the table and stood.

She held one hand toward Elliot.

"Upstairs."

"No."

"Elliot."

"No, because I understand exactly what happened. Celeste bruised your ego, so somehow I'm being punished."

The women laughed harder.

Alex simply wiggled her fingers.

"Come on."

Elliot stared at her hand.

Then at her face.

There was that expression.

Beautiful, excited, absolutely unreasonable.

He sighed and closed the laptop.

"You weaponize being my wife."

"Works, doesn't it?"

Unfortunately, it did.

The first thing Elliot said when Alex opened her wardrobe was, "I'm not wearing a dress."

"Good."

Alex pushed several hangers aside.

"I wasn't looking for one."

"That isn't reassuring."

She ignored him.

Elliot stood near the bedroom doorway with his arms folded while Alex went through skirts one by one.

Too long.

Too formal.

Too dark.

Too fitted.

Then she stopped.

"Oh."

Elliot immediately disliked that sound.

Alex pulled out a soft pink pleated skirt.

It was aggressively cute.

Not elegant.

Not subtle.

Pink, light, slightly flared, with neat little pleats that moved when Alex lifted it.

She walked directly toward him and held it against his waist.

"Oh, this is perfect."

"Put that back."

Instead, Alex tilted her head.

The pink looked surprisingly good against his skin.

That seemed to annoy her in the most delighted possible way.

She found a soft fitted white top and placed both pieces on the bed.

"Five minutes."

"You say that before every terrible decision."

Alex smiled.

"Please?"

Elliot stared at her.

Then at the clothes.

Then back at her.

He had always been terrible at refusing Alex when she was genuinely excited.

"Five minutes."

"Of course."

"You've already lied with that tone."

A few minutes later, Elliot stepped back into the room.

The result was strange.

His face remained entirely his.

His short dark hair remained messy and boyish.

His shoulders still held the slightly closed posture he always had when embarrassed.

But below that?

The white top fit more closely than his usual clothes.

The pink skirt sat around his waist and spread into neat pleats over his thighs.

Elliot immediately grabbed the hem and tugged it downward.

"My legs feel incredibly exposed."

Alex looked down.

"Your knees will survive."

"It doesn't feel like they will."

She walked around him.

Elliot remained stiff while Alex adjusted the waistband slightly higher.

"Alex."

"Stand still."

She straightened one pleat.

Then another.

Then another.

Elliot watched her in the mirror.

"You're enjoying this."

"Immensely."

"At least you're honest."

Alex tucked the top more neatly around his waist, smoothed the fabric, then stepped backward.

Elliot seized the opportunity.

"See? Doesn't work."

Alex looked him up and down.

"No."

"Excellent. I'll change."

"The clothes work."

Elliot stopped.

Alex pointed at his head.

"Your head doesn't."

His eyes closed.

"Of course."

Alex sat him at her vanity.

That somehow made everything worse.

Her dressing table was covered with things Elliot didn't know how to identify. Brushes. Bottles. clips. Compacts. Small jars. Hair products. Jewelry dishes.

Alex stood behind him with a comb.

"Only hair," Elliot said.

"Only hair."

"Nothing weird."

She picked up a spray bottle.

Elliot immediately frowned.

"It's water, darling."

"I don't trust anything in this room anymore."

Alex dampened the front of his hair.

His normal hairstyle was simple. Short, slightly messy, naturally falling toward one side.

She changed the part first.

Combed the front neatly across.

Flattened one side.

Lifted the other.

Then stared.

"No."

Elliot brightened.

"Wonderful. Failure."

Alex combed everything back out.

Elliot started to rise.

Her hand landed on his shoulder and pressed him gently back down.

"I rejected the hairstyle, not the project."

"That distinction worries me."

The second attempt was slower.

Alex drew part of his fringe forward.

Instead of making it sharp and neat, she curved small pieces around his temples.

"Softer."

"It looks unfinished."

"That's because you're accustomed to every hair being ordered to behave like an office employee."

She shifted the part again.

Used her fingers this time.

Lifted the crown just slightly.

Then tucked one side behind his ear.

The difference startled Elliot.

His face suddenly looked narrower.

Softer.

More exposed.

He immediately lifted his hand to undo it.

Alex slapped his fingers lightly away.

"Don't touch it."

"It's my head."

"Currently under management."

"That isn't a legal concept."

Alex opened one of her drawers.

Elliot saw the pale-pink hairband before she even picked it up.

"No."

"Oh, absolutely."

"Alex."

She slid it carefully over his head.

Then adjusted it so it didn't flatten everything.

She brought a few pieces of fringe forward again.

The tucked side began to loosen.

Alex leaned closer and personally pushed the hair back behind his ear.

"There."

Elliot stared into the mirror.

Pink skirt.

White top.

Soft fringe.

One exposed ear.

Pink hairband.

He hated something about the fact that none of it looked ridiculous.

"Take it off."

"Absolutely not."

"I look stupid."

Alex smiled at his reflection.

"You look cute enough to make Celeste furious."

The room downstairs went quiet.

That was worse than laughter.

Elliot stayed half-hidden behind Alex when they entered.

Naomi sat forward.

"Wait."

Elliot immediately wanted to retreat.

"You did that with his actual hair?"

Alex's smile became unbearably smug.

"Obviously."

Naomi stood.

She came closer.

Far too close.

Elliot looked toward Alex for rescue.

None arrived.

Naomi examined the pink hairband, then the softened fringe.

She carefully lifted the tucked side and let it fall back behind his ear.

"That's annoyingly cute."

"Can the inspection end now?"

"No."

"Wonderful."

Celeste leaned back with her drink.

She looked genuinely irritated.

"Fine."

Alex turned.

"Fine what?"

"The hair works."

Alex slipped an arm around Elliot's shoulders.

"Told you."

Elliot felt like a display item.

That feeling became much stronger when Charlotte pointed directly at his face.

"Cute outfit. Cute hair. Still completely Elliot from here up."

Finally.

Elliot smiled.

"Good news."

Then Alex looked at him.

His smile disappeared.

"No."

"Light makeup."

"No."

"Very light."

"You people are impossible."

Alex took his hand.

This time her voice softened.

"Really light. If you genuinely hate it, we stop."

Elliot studied her.

That mattered.

Alex could be pushy.

She could be competitive.

She could drive him insane.

But she meant it when she said that.

He sighed.

"Light means light."

"Light means light."

Back upstairs, Alex clipped his fringe completely away from his face using two tiny pink clips.

Elliot stared at his reflection.

"Somehow these are more humiliating than the skirt."

"Temporary suffering."

"Very easy to say when they're not in your hair."

Alex started with concealer.

Just a little beneath his eyes.

He followed the sponge suspiciously.

"Look up."

Elliot tilted his entire head toward the ceiling.

Alex stopped.

"Eyes, Elliot."

He lowered his head.

Only his eyes moved upward.

"Give precise instructions."

She smiled and continued.

The foundation surprised him even more.

It wasn't thick.

It wasn't theatrical.

Alex worked a thin layer across his skin until redness disappeared and everything looked unusually even.

Elliot leaned toward the mirror.

"That's... surprisingly normal."

Alex froze.

"Careful. That sounded like approval."

"It wasn't."

"It absolutely was."

Next came his brows.

Alex brushed them upward and outward.

Elliot watched.

"They're eyebrows. Why do they need styling?"

"Because yours arrived without supervision."

"That makes no sense."

She added a little product and shaped them more neatly.

Then came his eyes.

A subtle brown line near the lashes.

Elliot blinked constantly.

"Stop fighting me."

"My eyes disagree with this activity."

"Your eyes are dramatic."

Then Alex produced the mascara wand.

Elliot physically leaned backward.

"That thing has teeth."

"Bristles."

"Near my eye. Same problem."

Alex laughed and gently held his chin.

By the time she moved on to blush, Elliot had stopped arguing quite so frequently.

Then the blush went on.

Soft.

Barely there.

Except it changed the entire impression of his face.

Elliot stared.

"Why did that make such a difference?"

"Because I know what I'm doing."

The lip tint was natural pink.

Alex tapped it on carefully.

Elliot pressed his lips together.

"Stop eating it."

"I'm not eating anything."

"You are rubbing half of it away."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do with my mouth."

"Nothing."

"That seems unrealistic."

Finally, Alex removed the little temporary clips.

She restored the soft hairstyle.

Returned the pink hairband.

Tucked one side behind his ear again.

Then stepped away.

Elliot looked at the mirror.

For several seconds, he said nothing.

He still recognized himself.

That was perhaps the strangest part.

Nothing had completely replaced him.

It was still his nose.

His eyes.

His mouth.

His short hair.

But everything had been shifted slightly.

Softened.

Reframed.

Alex looked delighted.

"You're adorable."

"I specifically asked you not to enjoy this."

The second reveal was significantly worse.

Charlotte's eyes widened.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

Emilia wasn't laughing at all.

She simply smiled at him.

"You actually look really pretty."

Elliot's cheeks grew hot beneath the blush.

"Please don't say that while looking directly at me."

That only made Emilia laugh.

Celeste finally surrendered.

"Fine. He's cute."

Alex positively glowed.

"My husband is cuter than all of you."

"Leave me out of this war."

Alex didn't.

"Look at him. Pink skirt. Little hairband. Perfect face."

"I am twenty-nine."

Naomi leaned in and studied his eyes.

"His lashes are better than Charlotte's."

Charlotte gasped.

"Traitor."

Elliot rubbed his forehead and then remembered the makeup.

His hand stopped before touching it.

That tiny hesitation did not escape Alex.

Thankfully, nobody mentioned it.

Celeste crossed her arms.

"Fine. He can look cute standing still."

Elliot pointed at her.

"Excellent. Stop there."

"Make him pose."

His hand dropped.

"I dislike you again."

Posing turned out to be significantly more humiliating than makeup.

Elliot stood in the middle of the living room like someone waiting for a bus.

Alex frowned.

"Relax."

"Five women are evaluating my skirt. I am not relaxed."

She moved closer.

Shifted his weight onto one leg.

Bent the opposite knee slightly.

"Softer here."

"I feel like furniture you're rearranging."

His shoulders were next.

Then his hands.

Then his chin.

He still looked uncomfortable.

Naomi studied him.

"He looks like a hostage."

Elliot nodded.

"Finally. Accurate feedback."

Alex demonstrated the pose herself.

To Elliot's annoyance, it looked effortless on her.

"Like this."

"It looks natural when you do it."

"Copy me."

He tried again.

Better.

Not good.

But better.

Then Naomi got involved.

She turned his wrist slightly.

Alex moved his elbow.

"Why am I a group project now?"

Naomi stared at his hand.

"Because your hands are ruining everything."

"My hands were fine before tonight."

The women stepped back.

Celeste narrowed her eyes.

Something still bothered her.

"The silhouette is wrong."

Elliot immediately shook his head.

"No."

Nobody had said what would happen yet.

"Whatever comes next, no."

Celeste gestured toward the white top.

"The shirt is hanging straight. That's what looks off."

"It's a shirt. Shirts hang."

Alex suddenly went very still.

Elliot saw the idea arrive.

"I have a padded camisole."

"Of course you do."

Alex went upstairs and returned with it.

She explained it calmly.

Soft underlayer.

Removable silicone forms.

Nothing exposed.

Everything completely underneath the clothes.

Elliot stared at her.

"You are describing breasts like accessories."

Charlotte lifted her glass.

"Tonight, they are."

Elliot changed privately.

When he returned, his arms were crossed tightly over his chest.

The padded camisole and modest silicone forms sat beneath the same white top.

Nothing revealing.

Nothing dramatic.

But the difference was immediate.

"Move your arms," Alex said.

"They're defensive equipment."

"I need to see whether both sides are even."

"That sentence alone is reason to keep them there."

Eventually he lowered them.

Alex adjusted everything through the clothing.

She looked at his reflection.

"This side is sitting higher."

"A sentence I never expected about myself."

She corrected it.

Smoothed the top.

Straightened the pink skirt.

Then stepped away.

The shirt no longer fell directly downward.

The shape of the entire outfit had changed.

More curve through the upper body.

A narrower impression at the waist.

The pleated skirt suddenly looked as though it belonged with the rest.

Charlotte blinked.

"Oh. That fixed it."

Elliot stared downward.

Unfortunately, he could see it too.

"Unfortunately, I can see that."

Then Alex put him back into the same pose.

Shoulder lowered.

Weight shifted.

Hand softer.

"My hand is already doing its best."

Alex moved one loose piece of hair beside his face.

"Don't look terrified."

Emilia smiled.

"Just look at Alex."

Elliot did.

His face softened without him intending it to.

Naomi took the photo.

Everyone crowded around the phone.

Celeste stared.

"Okay. That's unfairly good."

Elliot leaned forward.

Alex noticed immediately.

"You looked."

"I'm checking evidence."

Celeste wasn't finished.

She studied the photograph.

"Fine. You win inside your own house."

Alex's smile changed.

"Meaning?"

Celeste gestured toward Elliot.

"He'd never actually go outside looking like that."

"Correct," Elliot said immediately. "Wonderful conclusion."

Alex looked at him.

He knew that expression.

Again.

"He could."

Elliot turned toward her.

"Please stop volunteering my theoretical abilities."

Charlotte laughed.

"How long do you need? A week? A month?"

Alex shook her head.

"No deadline."

That somehow sounded worse.

She studied Elliot thoughtfully.

"I'll take however long I need."

Elliot stared.

"That sounded like a threat."

Alex carefully removed the pink hairband from his head.

"We'll do it properly."

"Whenever you say 'we,' I seem to do all the suffering."

Elliot assumed the entire thing might disappear by morning.

Alcohol wore off.

Friends went home.

Normal life returned.

Surely Alex would wake up and realize that challenging wealthy bored women to see whether her husband could convincingly dress femininely in public was ridiculous.

Saturday morning proved otherwise.

Elliot walked into the kitchen wearing a normal T-shirt and comfortable trousers.

His hair was messy again.

His face was bare.

He felt normal.

Alex looked up from her coffee.

"Morning, pretty boy."

"No."

She smiled.

"We're not starting that."

Then Elliot noticed the kitchen island.

Face-pack tube.

Hair clips.

Tweezers.

Comb.

Notebook.

He stared.

"Why are tweezers having breakfast with us?"

Alex took another sip of coffee.

Elliot opened the notebook.

HAIR.

FACE.

BROWS.

PUBLIC OUTFIT.

JEWELRY.

OFFICE?

He pointed.

"There is a question mark after office."

"I was being considerate."

"Remove the entire word."

"No."

The face pack came first.

Alex clipped all of Elliot's short hair completely away from his forehead.

The clips were ridiculous.

Tiny.

Pink.

Far too many of them.

Elliot looked in the mirror.

"Private humiliation is still humiliation."

Alex opened the face-mask tube.

She used a flat brush to spread the cool product over one cheek.

"What does this actually do?"

"Mostly makes your skin feel nice."

"That's it?"

"That's enough."

She covered the other cheek.

His forehead.

His nose.

Elliot stared at himself.

"It looks like wall paint."

"Sit still, princess."

He glared.

That only made Alex smile more.

Then came the waiting.

Which Elliot considered the worst part.

"How long?"

"Three minutes."

"It feels like twenty."

As the mask dried, the skin across his face tightened.

He attempted to move his mouth.

"My face is becoming concrete."

Alex looked at her phone.

"Finally. Some peace."

"You're terrible."

Five minutes later, Alex touched one cheek.

"Five more minutes."

"If I die like this, tell my mother I fought bravely."

Eventually she removed it with a warm cloth.

One cheek first.

Half his face still covered.

Half clean.

"This part I approve of."

Alex wiped around his nose.

Then his chin.

Elliot closed his eyes.

The warmth was unexpectedly pleasant.

"You're enjoying it."

"I'm resting."

When she finished, Alex lightly brushed her fingertips across his cheek.

"Soft."

Elliot touched it.

Once.

Again.

"...Fine. It feels good."

Alex smiled.

He regretted admitting it immediately.

Then she reached for the tweezers.

Elliot saw them.

"No."

"You've got a few dark hairs already."

"That's normal."

"Just the obvious ones. They'll stay cleaner longer."

"Shaving exists for a reason."

Alex studied his chin.

Elliot covered it protectively.

"Those hairs have lived peacefully there for years."

"They're four hairs, Elliot."

"Four innocent hairs."

The first pluck changed his argument into a yelp.

"OW!"

"One."

"You pulled part of my face out."

Alex went for another along his jaw.

"At least warn me."

"You'll tense up."

"I'm already tense."

By the time she finished, Elliot looked personally betrayed.

Alex wiped the area gently.

"Done."

"You say that like I should thank you."

Then she looked at his upper lip.

Elliot covered it immediately.

"No. The face has suffered enough."

Alex gently lowered his hand.

The first hair came out.

His eyes watered.

"Jesus."

"Two more."

"Cruel woman."

When it was over, Alex dabbed the area carefully.

Then kissed his forehead.

"Finished."

Elliot leaned into her before realizing he was doing it.

"Marriage was a mistake."

Alex smiled against his hair.

"You say that while leaning into me."

He straightened immediately.

A little later, Alex began experimenting with his hair again.

She lifted the back.

Paused.

"Your nape is messy."

Elliot stared at her through the mirror.

"My nape has never been a household issue before."

Alex showed him with a hand mirror.

Tiny stray hairs grew beneath the main hairline.

Normally invisible.

But whenever she tucked his sides back, they became obvious.

"These show whenever I tuck the sides back."

"Then stop tucking them back."

Alex simply looked at him.

Elliot knew that look.

Then she produced a trimmer.

"You are holding machinery behind my neck."

"Just cleaning the edge."

Alex clipped the upper hair out of the way.

The trimmer started.

Bzzzz.

Elliot's shoulders tightened.

"That sound is extremely close to my skull."

"Because your neck is connected to it."

"Comforting."

The trimmer passed across the lowest hairs.

Tiny dark pieces fell.

Elliot couldn't see what she was doing.

That made it worse.

"How much are you removing?"

"Almost nothing. Stop panicking."

"I can't see!"

"Exactly why you should stop moving."

Alex worked slowly.

She wasn't shaving high into his hairstyle.

She was simply making the lowest line deliberate.

Clean.

Neat.

Afterward she used a small razor on the faintest stray hairs at the bottom.

The cool touch made Elliot shiver.

"Don't move."

"I'm trying."

Finally, Alex removed the clips.

His hair fell back down.

Elliot immediately reached behind his neck.

His fingertips touched smooth skin.

"Oh."

Alex looked at him.

"What?"

He rubbed the area again.

The fuzzy little hairs he was used to finding were gone.

The cleaned neckline felt strangely exposed beneath his fingers.

Alex watched him touch it a third time.

"You like it."

"It's... strangely smooth."

She smiled.

Elliot's short hairstyle had started taking on something closer to a feminine bob shape as it softened around his face, and the newly cleaned nape made that shape far more deliberate.

Alex tucked one side behind his ear.

The back looked clean.

Almost like the beginning of a short women's nape-trimmed bob.

"Much cleaner."

Elliot studied himself from several angles using the hand mirror.

He resisted.

For approximately ten seconds.

"Okay."

Alex's eyebrows rose.

"This one I'll admit looks better."

Her smile became enormous.

"Don't."

"I didn't say anything."

"You don't need to."

A few days later Alex returned home with a shopping bag.

Elliot saw it.

"What did you buy?"

"Nothing."

"That is visibly a bag full of something."

She emptied it onto the vanity.

Hairbands.

Clips.

Thin black band.

Cream.

Pink.

Pearl.

Several little neutral clips.

Several not-neutral clips.

Elliot stared.

"How many heads do you think I have?"

Alex ignored him.

She held the cream band against his hair.

"Cream?"

"Black."

"Pink?"

"Black."

"Pearl?"

"Alex."

She laughed.

"Fine."

The thin black hairband went in.

Alex softened his fringe around it instead of slicking everything backward.

She adjusted one side.

Then the other.

Elliot stared.

It was noticeably feminine.

But subtle.

He hated that the word came out before he could stop it.

"That's... not terrible."

Alex smiled.

Elliot closed his eyes.

"I really need to stop saying that."

Monday morning brought the first consequence outside the house.

Elliot stood at Alex's vanity wearing his office clothes.

At this point his hair was still short, but the softened bob-like shape and cleaned nape made it easier for Alex to style.

"I have a meeting," Elliot reminded her. "I need to look normal."

"You do look normal."

"Your definition of normal has suffered serious damage."

She gave him a soft side sweep.

Then reached for the black hairband.

Elliot caught her wrist.

"Not at work."

Alex paused.

"Fine."

Elliot relaxed.

That was his mistake.

Alex put the band down.

Picked up two tiny neutral clips instead.

Elliot stared.

"That's cheating."

"You banned the band."

"Same category."

"Be more specific next time."

She clipped one side neatly back.

From the front, it looked subtle.

Professional.

Almost like an intentional women's short office style.

Elliot stood.

Looked.

Adjusted his jacket.

And went to work.

He sat in his parked car for several minutes.

Black suit.

White shirt.

Hair clipped neatly on one side.

Normal enough.

Probably.

Maybe.

His fingers touched one of the clips.

He nearly removed it.

Stopped.

It's just hair, he told himself.

He got out.

Daniel caught up near the entrance.

"Morning."

"Morning."

Daniel looked once.

Then twice.

"New hairstyle?"

Elliot sighed.

"My wife happened."

Daniel laughed.

In the elevator, he looked again.

"Actually suits you."

Elliot immediately turned toward him.

"Do not say that where Alex can somehow hear you."

Daniel grinned.

"She doesn't work here."

"You underestimate her."

The real trouble began at his desk.

Maya stopped while walking past.

Then actually backed up.

"Wait. Your hair."

Elliot kept typing.

"Yes. Still attached."

Maya leaned closer.

She saw the clips.

Her smile widened.

"That's cute."

Elliot closed his eyes.

"Please don't use that word. My wife has weaponized it."

Maya laughed.

Another coworker noticed.

"Alex did this?"

"Obviously."

Maya nodded approvingly.

"Tell her I approve."

"Absolutely not."

By lunch, Daniel was still teasing him.

"You're taking this very seriously."

Elliot poked at his lunch.

"Four rich women turned my face into a committee decision."

Daniel nearly choked laughing.

Maya passed again.

"Seriously. The style works."

Elliot pointed at her.

"Please stop validating my wife."

Later, Elliot finally had a few quiet minutes alone.

He opened his phone.

The dark screen reflected his face faintly.

One clip had shifted.

His hair no longer sat the way Alex had arranged it.

He stared at it.

Then carefully moved the clip.

Slightly up.

Slightly backward.

Exactly where Alex had placed it that morning.

"There."

Maya walked past.

Stopped.

She had seen everything.

Elliot looked at her.

"Not a word."

"I didn't say anything."

"Your face did."

That evening, Alex ran a comb through Elliot's hair.

He was home now, comfortable, away from coworkers and staring.

His clothes had gradually changed at home too.

He no longer immediately changed into oversized men's T-shirts whenever he walked through the door. Alex had introduced softer feminine tops, little camisole-style home pieces and supportive underlayers that made the house feel different from the outside world.

Private.

Safe.

His.

He still complained.

He just complained while wearing them now.

Alex combed through the top section of his short bob.

"Don't cut it this weekend."

Elliot looked at her through the mirror.

"No."

"A little more length."

"No."

She gathered the top between her fingers.

"With another bit of growth, I can do proper half-up styles."

Elliot narrowed his eyes.

"Tiny ties."

"Alex."

"Maybe little buns."

Elliot turned his head.

"You said 'buns' with alarming enthusiasm."

Alex laughed.

She let the hair fall.

Then rested her chin gently on his shoulder.

The teasing disappeared from her voice.

"Skip one trim."

Elliot watched her reflection.

"If you hate it," she continued, "cut it."

He studied his hair.

The cleaner nape.

The softened sides.

The little clips still sitting on the vanity.

The black hairband nearby.

All the things that would have sounded ridiculous to him only a short time ago.

"One trim," he finally said.

Alex's face immediately brightened.

"Don't celebrate."

She smiled anyway.

Elliot saw it in the mirror.

And despite himself, the corner of his mouth lifted too.

He had no idea what Alex planned to do with that extra length.

That was probably why he should have been worried.

But for the first time since this ridiculous challenge began, curiosity was starting to sit beside the embarrassment.

And that was considerably more dangerous.

END OF PART ONE