Page 22 of The Good Boy

“I’d have come over sooner, but it looked like you were into her for a while there,” I explain.

“I told you, I’m waiting for a certain someone.”

“Oh, Miles,” I say teasingly, cupping my palm to his cheek. “You should have invited Claudia-from-work, if you are that keen. We wouldn’t have minded!”

“Genie.” Miles sighs, gently removing my hand. “I’ve lived next door to you for half my life, more or less. And yet still, you do not get me at all, do you?”

“I do, I do,” I promise him, warming to the subject, which means I can avoid feeling feelings. “Is it that you don’t know how to ask her out on a date because you like her, and if it all goes wrong, it will be awkward because you work together?”

For a moment I am locked into his eyes. The colored lights cast a rainbow of colors across his skin. That ache I felt when I saw him talking to that girl seems to intensify, and the edge of the thought I’m trying so hard to have comes into focus. But, that’s just crazy, right?

“Yeah,” Miles says, his shoulders falling. “That’s basically the problem. We geologists are rarely known for our dating game.”

“You’ll never get anywhere if you don’t tell her how you feel,” I tell him, running as fast as I can from those confusing almost-thoughts. “Like, sure, everything might go tits up and be a terrible disaster and ruin your life forever, but you have to try. Apparently. That’s what everyone says.”

“It’s the ruining my life forever bit that makes me a tad uncertain,” he confesses.

Miles looks like he’s about to say something when Rory crashes in between us.

“Stop talking!” he says, leaping up and down like a human pogo stick. “Talking is boring, do the dancing instead. The dancing is tremendous!”

“Shall we, Milesington?” I offer Miles my hand. He hesitates for a fraction of a second before breaking into a huge smile. Suddenly everything feels better.

“We shall, Eugenie,” he says. That funny little thought wafts away and out of my mind and is replaced by the all-consuming joy that is unplanned choreography.

Funnily enough, if someone had ever asked me if going to a club with my dog would be fun, I would definitely have said, No, are you mad? What a terrible idea. But Rory’s got moves. And he’s properly smiling for the first time since he transformed. That’s the best birthday present I could hope for.

Kelly goes to hand him a beer and I swoop in and snatch it from her, giving her a stern warning look. Because I can take a lot of things, as it turns out, but not a drunk former dog. A girl has to draw the line somewhere.

We fall in the front door at about a quarter to four in the morning, and somehow Miles comes in behind us. Maybe he forgot which house he lives in. Fortunately, the hallway wall catches me and I lean against it hard as Rory dances past me.

“I don’t see why it has to close,” Rory says. “Why do things close?”

“Honestly, I have never thought about it,” I say as Miles goes through to the kitchen and puts on the kettle. “I suppose people have to sleep sometimes?”

“What was your favorite part of the evening, Rory?” Miles asks him, popping four slices of toast in the toaster.

“When we went for a kebab,” Rory tells him, adding proudly, “and I chose my own kebab without any lettuce. But anyway, you are in the wrong house. If I went to the bathroom for a drink, and then came out and saw you, I might forget you are a friend and accidentally tear you limb from limb.”

“Not my chief concern, I’ll admit,” Miles tells him.

“Genie needs a protector,” Rory goes on, warming to his subject. “There are so many dangers out there. What about postpeople, right? Sure, in the morning they are shoving death threats through the inexplicable door hole, but where do they go to at night? Have you ever thought about that?” He peers out of a gap in the curtain. “I think they live in the trees...”

“Are you sure Kelly didn’t give him anything?” Miles asks.

“No, I think it’s a mixture of excitement and the additives in kebab shop chili sauce,” I say, fishing his toy out from under the sofa. “Come on, Rory, here is Diego. Why don’t you sit down and watch telly? I’ll put David Attenborough on—I know he’s your favorite.”

“He has a kind voice,” Rory says as he sinks onto the sofa hugging Diego to his chest.

“So, I know you’ve had a few things on but did you like the gift I got you?” Miles asks, buttering the toast and cutting it into triangles just how I like. He hands me the plate.

“Oh, what with one thing and another I haven’t opened it yet!” I say, shoving one triangle of toast into my mouth. “Let’s open it now!”

“Oh, while I’m watching?” Miles looks alarmed.

“Yes, while you’re watching.” I laugh. “Why, what is it? Does it require batteries or something?”

“What? Oh god, no. No. I just... what if you don’t like it?”

---