Page 27 of The Good Boys Club

Sure, it would mean taking two months off work. Two months away from a sinking ship.

But the life raft might just be in Howling Pines—at least temporarily.

Instead of thinking up reasons not to be Mash’s fake boyfriend, my thoughts were overrun with Dylan West, Howl Ya Doing, Byte Tech . . . two months of not going into the office, two months of not catching the U-Rail, two-months of fresh air, and beautiful forestry, and that fucking ravine where Mash and I spent that one evening . . .

And two months of Mash. Of “pretending.” Of his almost undivided attention.

Two months where he couldn’t leave me at the bar, or party, to go back to some woman’s apartment.

I took the elevator down to the tenth floor.

Mash was crouched next to Gideon’s chair. “Wait . . . wait . . . wait . . . not yet . . . not yet . . . now! Bid now!”

Gideon smashed a button on his mouse, paused for one second, two seconds, then, “I won it!”

“Of course you did. You’re a goth boss.” Mash ruffled the fur on Giddy’s head.

Oh my gods, was Gideon Cinnabar actually smiling? “Thank you. I’ve wanted one of these lamps for years.”

“I’ll do it!” I said, interrupting their moment. “I’ll come with you to Howling Pines.”

“YES!” Mash shouted, jumping to his feet, running over to me and wrapping his enormous arms around me. “I fucking love you, Bangers. This is going to be epic!” He pulled away from the embrace but still held me. “It’s gonna be fun, right? We’re gonna have so much fun.”

I found myself smiling too. I guessed we would have fun.

Howl I Met Your Mother

Fourteen-and-a-Bit Years Earlier

Cian

“This one has Lucy Stirling and Timothy What’s His Face in,” Mash said. He cracked open a bottle of beer and flicked the cap towards the kitchen bin.

“Timothy Everhart?”

“Yeah.”

“I like him,” I said.

“I know you do. Stirling’s fit as fuck too.”

It was a Sunday afternoon in the middle of March, and we were lying on the sofa watching a movie. My feet were in his lap, which according to Mash wasn’t gay because it was only feet and he gave everyone in his pack foot rubs. His legs were stretched out onto the pouffe in front of him.

The pouffe didn’t come with the furnishings. I’d purchased it separately because Mash’s limbs were so ridiculously long we needed the extra surface space, but it came in handy for additional seating if we ever had guests over. He wore sweatpants and a workout vest. I wore cords, a slouchy black tee, and a woollen lumberjack shirt. I wore socks. Mash was barefoot, as always.

He only ever wore shoes outside. And even then he sometimes forgot, and I had to remind him. One time he called me from outside the canteen to tell me he’d sat through two lectures and a workshop and had only noticed he’d forgotten his footwear when the canteen supervisor refused him entry. I bought him sliders and left them by the front door so he’d remember them. Even still, he had writtenFUCKING SHOESon a sticky note and fixed it to the wall by the light switch. He wore size twenty shoes.

Each Sunday, we took it in turns to choose movies. This week was Mash’s pick, so we were watchingHowl I Met Your Mother,because even though Mash was a gigantic muscular intimidating-as-fuck werewolf, he had a soft spot for rom coms. He’d said he only watched them for the “lols,” but I saw the way his eyes grew wide when the couple’s pinkies brushed together. And I pretended I didn’t know that he sat on his tail to hide its wagging when they confessed their love.

It was strange, because Mash himself had no interest in love. Literally none. We’d been living in our halls, studying ourdegrees for six months now, and I must have seen Mash bring home at least fifty different girls.

He was a love ’em then leave ’em kind of guy. A one and done. No repeats. Half the time, the girls would be lucky if he knew their names. Whenever I asked him if he liked this girl enough to see her again, he’d laugh. “Uni’s for fucking about. I’m not gonna waste the best years of my life by falling in love,” he’d say.

I took a sip of my beer. “Is this a sci-fi? Weren’t they in a sci-fi together?”

“No, that was Dawn Gosling. She’s fit too. This is the one where they swap houses and fall in love with each other’s neighbours.”

“Okay,” I said, hiding my smile behind the neck of my bottle.

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