Page 80 of The Good Boys Club

Fur What It’s Worth

Thirteen Years Earlier

Cian

“Happy Winter Fest,” Mum said, handing me a wallet-sized black gift box.

I gave them their present. A Cecil Reece lithograph of a woman bathing. They’d seen it at an exhibition preview one time, but the gallery owner had said they’d sold out of the limited-editionprints. I’d tracked one down in Remy and brought it home with me. Last year I gifted them spa day passes, but both Mum and Dad had claimed they were too busy to use them, so Mash and I ended up going to the spa together.

It turned out to be both the most relaxing and chaotic experience of my life. Mash had never had a massage or a facial before, or even been in a steam room, and it was fun to be there for his firsts, even if he had ended up slinking off with one of the massage therapists.

“Thank you,” Dad said, after he opened their gift and placed it against the table leg.

“That’s the one we liked. Very thoughtful, Ci,” Mum said.

We’d just had our Winter Fest lunch—roast salmon and potatoes—and had decided to exchange gifts while we waited for the pomegranate-semifreddo dessert to be brought to us.

Mum made a gesture for me to open mine, so I peeled back the ribbon and removed the lid of the box. Inside was a plastic card, not unlike a credit card.

“It’s a key for your new apartment,” Mum said, her smile tight . . . forced. Dad remained impassive.

“My new apartment?” I repeated slowly, as I tried to make sense of it.

“Yes, well, it won’t be ready until June. They’re still finalising construction and furnishings, but we’ve picked everything out for you already, so you don’t have to.”

“Um, thank you,” I said, not wanting to come across as impolite. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind. “But . . . where is this apartment?”

“Newtown. It’s close to the uni so it won’t be too much of a trek. Great building. Has a communal pool and gym,” Mum said.

The pieces began slotting themselves together. “In Bordalis?”

“Yes, sweetie. In Bordalis. The computer science program is world-leading. It wouldn’t make any sense to study elsewhere.”She paused and tilted her head to the side. “You are still interested in studying computer science, aren’t you? Or if you’re not, your father can always find you a position at Chimera Chambers?”

At that moment, Ryan, the young waiter who on occasion worked for my parents, brought out three plates of dessert, one balancing on his forearm. He put a dish in front of Dad, and then me, then Mum.

“I do want to continue studying, but I’ve already applied to Remy.” I nodded my thanks and picked up my dessert fork.

Mash and I had talked about it. Extensively. He’d said that in order to become a tree surgeon, he needed to take a master’s degree in natural sciences. I didn’t question the validity or truth of his statement. He and I both knew we were jointly finding reasons not to return to our hometowns. We’d applied for our master’s programs at Remy and had both received conditional offers. Mash had accepted his the second the email hit his inbox, but I was yet to click on that little button. I’d wanted to talk it over with my parents first.

“There’s still time to apply to Bordalis,” Dad said. “I have connections. I could get you an interview with the dean of sciences. It’s as good as yours.”

I waited for him to add, “if you want it,” but he never did. I should have known better.

“I’ll consider it,” I said.

We ate our semifreddoes in stony silence. Winter Fest music played softly through the sound system.

Mash:

There’s no signal in this fucking house, so if I don’t get to speak with you tomorrow, Happy Winter Fest. Love you, mate. Don’t forget to think of me when you have your Winter Fest wank. I’ll tug one out whilst picturing your beautiful face ;) Also, thanks for my gift, I opened it already. I cannot fucking wait.

I read Mash’s text again and smiled to myself. I hadn’t heard from him since last night. I’d sent him a couple of messages and a selfie with the caption:Thinking of you so hard rn.I didn’t think he meant for me to take his wanking joke literally, but little did he know . . .

For his gift, I’d bought him two tickets to Swooncon, Remy’s annual rom-com film festival, which took place over Valentine’s weekend. I hadn’t opened his present to me yet, but I didn’t need to. He’d already told me what he got for me. He was crap at surprises.

“It’s a fifty-silver voucher to that tattoo shop you go to. And some chocolate liquorice because I know how much you like gross, bitter shit.”

He was right. I loved those liquorice bullets.

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