Page 91 of The Good Boys Club

“MASHEW KEYLAND CASSIDY!”Cian screamed. I spared a glance over my shoulder and saw him abandoning his car. He was pulling his jumper over his head. Why was he undressing?

“DON’T MAKE ME SHIFT!”Oh, that’s why. He’d never reach me that quickly on human feet.

I couldn’t risk people seeing him in his shifted form two weeks outside the full moon, so I ground to a stop.“FINE! I SURRENDER!”I yelled. Besides, when he changed back to his human form, he’d be naked, and I’d have to look at him and I didn’t want that.

Did want it. But didn’t trust myself.

I walked into a small clearing and sat on the trunk of a felled tree. I felled the tree in fact, about six years ago. We’d left it where it landed—for nature. It was now its own ecosystem, with fungi and flora and insects all claiming their own patch. I’d even seen stag beetles making their home here one summer. One time, Juno and Felix and I counted the rings in the centre of the trunk. The tree was over a hundred years old.

Cian’s footsteps drew closer, and I turned to face the opposite side of the forest. Childish? Yes, but I couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in his eyes.

“Mash,” he said again, breathing heavily as his boots crunched over the woodland floor.

I said nothing.

“Mash, come on.” It was giving distinctI’m not angry, I’m just disappointedvibes. He sat next to me, facing the opposite way. The rush of gratitude that I wouldn’t have to look him in the eye as I confessed everything was nearly overwhelming. He knew me so well. Knew this kind of chat would make me uncomfortable. It made my heart ache all the more.

“So, you’re bi?” he said.

I shrugged. “I think . . . maybe. I just . . .” I let my sentence trail off.

“And how long have you known? Was it really Charley’s house party? Or was that something you were telling Felix to make him feel less alone?”

I ran the back of my trainer up the decaying bark of the tree. I never used to wear shoes out here, not when playing about or just going for a stroll. The shoes were all Cian’s doing.

Ci huffed out a long sigh. “And you never thought to tell me?”

“Didn’t want to bore you,” I said, suddenly super interested in the diamond pattern on the rubber soles of my trainers.

“Oh, fuck off, Mash, I’m not buying that for a second. You didn’t want to bore me? The man who once asked me to sit through his two-hour-long uni lecture on identifying lichen. The man who once, for an entire car ride to Bordalis, spoke of nothing except how pines are an infinitely superior tree and all the other trees were dogshit kindling in comparison. The man who insists on recounting the plot of every single rom com he’s ever seen, minute by minute, even though I fucking watched them with you.”

I winced. I did do all of that.

“In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never once thought, ‘Am I boring Ci?’”

“Shit, I’m sorry.” What if I’d been driving him to the brink of his patience over and over and he’d been too polite to tell me?

As though reading my thoughts, he said, “You haven’t been boring me, by the way. I could listen to you recite shampoo ingredients.” My shoulders eased. “But that’s not the real reason you’ve never told me, is it?”

I stared into the trees for a few minutes. Cian said nothing, he simply waited, as patient and unflappable as ever.

Eventually, I spoke. “It’s just that I . . . still don’t know if I am bi. It’s fucking ridiculous. I’m thirty-four and I have no idea what to think right now.” I dug my fingernails into the tree bark. Okay, here went nothing. “There’s only ever been one guy I’ve . . . thought about that way.”

Cian remained silent, but I felt his body shift, turning towards me slightly.

“I don’t think it’s enough to make me bi.”

“That’s not what you told Felix,” Ci said, his voice soft and understanding.

“Felix is twenty years younger than me. He has forever to figure his shit out.” And he’s not in love with his best friend . . . or the alpha of a pack who’d have to live seven hours away from said best friend.

“You don’t need to figure any shit out either.” Cian’s fingers nudged at mine.

“I know,” I said, resigned. “I wasn’t gonna.” I turned to him and gave him a lopsided smile.

Cian rolled his eyes, but smiled regardless. “This one guy you’ve had thoughts about . . . Is he me?”

I searched his face, unable to read his expression. I looked away. “Yes,” I said in a whisper, as though whispering it would stop it from tearing our friendship apart.

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