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25
We each choose our bedrooms, and I wonder if it’s by chance or laziness or perhaps just the lack of Oscar Munro’s overbearing presence that we all end up on the same floor. Luke’s to the left of me and Danny’s to the right. Unlike the manor, this place is much lighter, so breezy and bright, a world away from mahogany and crimson-washed walls.
Like the manor, however, Rory’s bedroom door is still markedRuairidh.
I make a mental note of it, wondering if he’d be offended if I brought it up or even called him Ruairidh. Though perhaps I’d bungle the pronunciation so badly he wouldn’t have the faintest idea what I was even trying to say.
This bedroom is as similarly fancy as the one in the manor, but more contemporary and less stuck-up. There’s no four-poster bed, for example. On the contrary, everything in this apartment looks like a social media dream, all greenery and pretty sashed windows with a low large divan-style bed in the center.
It’s when I’m unpacking my suitcase that I’m sharply reminded of something from long ago. Buried in the corner, nestled between pairs of balled cotton socks and wrapped around his skull-and-crossbonesBM-monogrammed fabric, is Benji’s wooden yo-yo. I stare at it blankly for a long time and then pick it up, examining the smooth wooden discs between my fingers, apprehension tugging at my stomach as I pull the cord.
There’s a knock on my door and I quickly stash away the toy. Danny strides into the room, looking awkward. “I just dumped my kit on the floor,” he explains with a shrug, admiring the place. His hands are balled in the pockets of his chinos and he’s shed a few layers. After a moment, he gives me a serious look. “He’s a real posh twat, you know that, right?”
“They all are,” I say, knowing it full well. Especially if Finlay’s family truly does live in a crazy rich area of the country’s capital. I don’t know why, but part of me is still smarting over that particular revelation — he hadn’t exactly been forthwith with that information when he’d been banging on about Marxism and theauthentic Scotland.
Danny nods, as though this is a good enough reason. “Fair enough. As long as you know what you’re getting yourself into.” He glances around, looking like he doesn’t know how he got here, then sits wearily on the bed. “Still, I guess it’s good of him to house me here. I just don’t fancy him breathing down my neck at every wrong move I make, which somehow I imagine will be countless.”
“He won’t. I’ll make sure of it.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to bring up his kiss with Finlay. But he doesn’t know I was there — and nor does Finlay. So I keep it to myself, a locked-up jewel of knowledge that I try not to dwell on, wondering how rich it makes me. From the way Finlay and Danny have been looking at me, anyway, I don’t think I have much reason to worry about being abandoned by a pair of star-crossed lovers.
Everything’s strange. Everything’s new. I just don’t know where my head is when it comes to these boys.
Danny watches me contentedly from the bed as I hang up clothes in my new walk-in closet. There’s another knock on the door and Finlay’s tousled head peeks through.
He hands me a menu.
“We’re gonnae get a carry-oot. Rory’s treat. What d’you fancy?”
“Carry-oot?”
“Takeaway,” Danny helpfully supplies.
I stare at him, still confused. “You mean takeout?” It’s not so much the language that’s the problem but the idea of Rory even choosing to eat takeout in the first place.
Finlay rubs the back of his head. “Right. Aye. It’s funny, you think o’ takeout as food, and we think o’ it as some poor fucker gettin’ shot in the heid or something.”
I accept the menu from Finlay and note that of course it’s not your average takeout restaurant. Not if its dishes are printed on fine card and embossed with a gold butterfly and intimately addressedDear Mr. Munro.
With a roll of my eyes, I choose the first nice thing I come across. It doesn’t take long, since I could happily eat everything on it. But I go with the saag aloo, figuring it’s probably healthy enough for takeout.
“Apparently the Munros get a special deal at this place,” Finlay says, and he pauses. “I hope ye’re okay being here. I know ye probably didnae expect tae be launched halfway across the country on some magical mystery tour.”
“I don’t mind.” I pause, and then add, “The manor gave me everything it could last night. The rest of the time, it was kind of suffocating.”
“So you really were living at the Munros’ manor?” Danny asks, his eyes widening. “I’ve heard it’s this haunted place full of creepy evil spirits.”
“Aye, and he goes by the name Oscar Munro,” Finlay drawls.
After we give our orders, Finlay leaves the room, but not before I note his lack of acknowledgment toward Danny. Feeling somewhat bratty, I yell at his departing back, “Aren’t you going to say hi to Danny?”
He stops in the doorway, then slowly turns on the spot.
Danny, likewise, appears horror-struck at the idea.
“Hi, Danny,” Finlay says mechanically, not meeting his eyes. “We’ll chat later, aye?”
The awkwardness is so thick you’d need a chainsaw to slice through it.
