Page 8 of The Good Boy

“Well done, Rory,” I say. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

“I know, Genie,” he says. “I know you’d never let me down. Love you.”

“I...” I choke, “will be back in a second.”

Chapter Five

“Here.” Miles is standing on my doorstep holding a reusable coffee cup when I open the front door. I grab it gratefully. It saysGeologists rockon the side but I am too traumatized by the collapse of reality to be able to tease him about his nerdery. “Get this down your neck. Black, no sugar, just how you like it. Mind you, it’s really—”

“Thank you.” I take a big gulp.

“Hot,” he says. “So, what’s this all about, then? Is it that you are old now?”

“Firstly, take that back,” I tell him. I don’t know how to explain what is going on to him. So, I decide to start from the middle. Seems logical. “I need to borrow some clothes, if that’s okay? Not for me, you understand—for a man. He’s...” I look Miles up and down. “He’s a bit taller than you and quite broad-shouldered. Muscular.” Though he is almost thirty Miles dresses like a pensioner who is about to go onCountdown. I think there is some kind of dress code for geologists that a secret underground organization, like a sort of nerd Illuminati, enforces, because I have visited Miles at the Rotunda Museum, where he chose to work for some reason, even though there are many museums all over the world that tried to give him a job, and the geologists all have the fashionsense of a duffle bag that’s been put away wet. Even at this early stage I can’t imagine human Rory being into this look at all. “I haven’t really had a good look at the dude I need to lend them to yet, but he’s very fit, so if you have some stretchy stuff, say joggers and a T-shirt, some socks and... I don’t know what size feet he has but if you have some sliders maybe... ?” I look at his lace-up shoes and wonder if geologists know about sliders. “You know—like flip-flops?”

I drain the last of the coffee.

Miles’s face falls and he takes back his coffee cup.

“You have had a one-night stand with a tall muscley man who you haven’t really looked at properly and you want to borrow my clothes for your... whatever it is? How did you manage that, when you came home alone?”

His frown has deepened, his chin dropped.

“Miles!” I’m shocked. “Don’t be so judgy. It’s not cool.”

“I’m not judgy,” Miles says, “but I gave you your present and you went in and... What, did you go on Tinder drunk? Because if you...”

“If I what?” I ask him.

“It’s none of my business,” he says.

“You’re right, it is none of your business. Butno, I haven’t had a ‘one-night stand.’Ew.”

The thought of being intimate with a stranger gives my queasy tummy an extra squeeze. And that Miles could misjudge who I am isn’t a good feeling either. If a girl wants a fleeting encounter, good for her. But I am not that girl. I’m a girl who just wants a quiet life with her dog. Her DOG.

I still do not know how to explain this to Miles, so I go withthe truth in the hopes that it still has at least some gravity in one small corner of the world.

“The thing is, Miles, my nanna granted me a wish for my birthday, and I didn’t pay attention to the rules, so I accidentally turned my dog into a man.”

Miles looks at me through his tortoiseshell glasses with his dark, serious eyes, and for a moment his frown is replaced with confusion and, yes, surprise, unsurprisingly.

“Eugenie, have you taken any narcotics?” he asks me very slowly and loudly, like I might be French or on narcotics.

“No!” I don’t know how to make him believe this. “Look, you have known my nan a long time. What is the one thing she always tells people within eleven seconds of knowing them?”

“That she comes from a long line of magical women who possess the power to read fortunes and some other stuff,” Miles says.

“Right. Well, turns out she isn’t a total fantasist,” I say. “I appreciate that what I just said sounds completely mad, I do. But the fact remains there is a naked man under my bed and I really do think he’s my dog and I have to at least put clothes on him as a responsible pet owner. Although I’m not sure how that’s going to go based on the whole drama when he had to wear the cone of shame for three days. Neither one of us is over that debacle yet.”

Matilda chooses this moment to slink out of Miles’s front door, weaving in and out of his legs and eyeing me with an expression that tells me she would like nothing more than to hook my eyeballs out with one of her long claws. Tempting, but too late. Everything I’ve seen today is burned into my retinas.

“There’s a man in your flat and you don’t know who he is?” Miles repeats the information as if he is trying to get it straight inhis own head. “Why aren’t you more afraid? We need to call the police, now!”

“No, I don’t need the police,” I say. “I just need something with an elasticated waist, honestly.”

“You have an intruder in your house and you seem to be trying your best to make him feel at home. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Just friendly, I guess.” I shrug. “I’m not scared, because itsRory. I’m serious, Miles! Can I borrow some clothes or what?”

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