Page 49 of The Good Boy

“Whoa, whoa, whoa there.” Crossing to the door I flip the sign toOpen. Rory flips it back again, crosses his arms, and gives me a just-try-it look. I narrow my eyes at him, but he is resolute. “Me acknowledging a feeling for a moment, before I repress it right back to where it belongs, does not mean that I am going on your stupid quest to ‘find myself’ or whatever it is. I have found myself, I am right here, being just below average. I am not the girl who goes on journeys of discoveries. I am the girl who watches other people do it on TV. I’m just a dumb, stupid, nothing special human.”

“Tell me about it,” Rory mutters.

“I see,” Nanna Maria says, giving me that look of hers that says she knows something I don’t. “Why don’t you just ask him how he feels now?”

“Ask who what now?” I ask as my phone rings and I see Miles’s name appear on my phone screen. Nanna preens. Narrowing my eyes, I turn my back on her and answer the phone.

“Milesington,” I say.

“Eugenie,” he replies.

“I had an idea about how to help Rory,” he says. “I thought we could talk about it.”

“Oh?”

“I thought in person might be better,” Miles tells me.

“In case the phone is being tapped?” I ask. I’m not sure what it’s going to be like being near to him, now that I definitely know I want to be near to him all the time. But I suppose I can’t avoid him for the rest of my life either.

“You never know,” he says, so deadpan that for a moment I think he’s being serious. And then he chuckles, a deep warmthroaty laugh that makes me think about what it would be like to kiss his neck and, anyway, shut up.

“Then come and meet us on our lunch break, about noon? Eleven-thirty if Rory gets his way. We’ll be over the road with chips. Code word: ‘seagull.’”

“Excellent. Goodbye, Eugenie.”

“Goodbye Milesington,” I say. I do my best not to smile with the pleasure I feel after our exchange as I turn back to Nanna and Rory, but it takes effort, and like everything that takes effort with me, I fail miserably.

“I see,” Nanna repeats herself, arching an eyebrow.

“They’ve had special feelings for each other for years,” Rory adds with a grin. “And don’t think I’ve been too busy with my security duties to notice all the long lingering looks and pregnant pauses whenever you see Miles.”

“My pauses are not pregnant,” I protest. “My pauses are positively virginal. And don’t forget Claudia-from-work. Miles has told me to my literal face that he really likes her.”

“I really like dried pig’s ears, what’s your point?” Rory says.

“Not really the same thing...”

“What I don’t get is why all this is so hard just because you are human. I never fancied anyone in that way, but I’ve seen other dogs who wish to mate, and so they do mate. It’s usually quite weird, and it makes small talk awkward, you know, when they are there getting it on, and you’re just passing, but anyway, they do it and then it is done, and the dog’s sperm travels up the girl dog’s—”

“Enough with theDavid Attenborough!” I say. “Being a human is much more complicated than being a dog.”

“Tell me about it,” Rory says. “I can see that, but I don’t seewhy. You like someone, so tell them. If they like you, yay! If they don’t, oh well, you tried. Everything out in the open, no secrets, no games, no nonsense. Done.”

“Because that is not how society works,” I say. “Civilization is built on secrets, lies, and mistrust. Miles and me... maybe once, but not now. Now we are just friends and that is it. And it’s best we stay friends. I like him, he’s a good neighbor. Don’t want to ruin that and I don’t want to interfere in this Claudia-from-work thing. Miles deserves a nice geologist girl who is not weird and tangentially magical-adjacent.”

“Today you are friends and neighbors,” Nanna says. “Who knows about tomorrow?”

“Who knows?” Rory echoes.

“I’m telling you right now,” I say, pointing at both of them in turn, “that this double act is not happening. You are not bullying me into a quest. I am not the sort of person who goes on quests. So knock it off.”

“Very well,” Nanna concedes. “Besides, it doesn’t matter if your feelings are fleeting—at least you have them. Like I said, a good sign.”

“Ugh, I hate feelings!” I proclaim as a gaggle of giggling hens tumbles in through the door.

“Can you tell our Steph if her marriage is gonna last?” one of the girls asks Nanna. “We’ve got a sweepstake.”

“Of course.” Nanna waves regally at the table. “Take a seat, ladies, and let me reveal the secrets of your love lives to you.”

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