Jack and I just stare at him.
“Shower’s free,” Elliot says, once the towel is safely around him again. “Also, guess what?”
“I don’t know, Elliot, what?” Jack says, pouring hot water into the cups.
“Guess.”
Jack sighs, clearly not quite up for this yet. “The complimentary shampoo is to die for?”
Elliot grins and shakes his head. “Actually, it’s not bad, but it’s not that.”
Jack tips some sugar into my cup.
“News of the day!” Elliot declares, clearly bored of waiting. “I’ve booked us all a group massage! Usually they’re for hen parties, but they know we’re boys. It’s an hour long and it’s to promote relaxation and calm. My treat!” he continues. “Gonna use some of my big cash prize from last night! Have you had a massage before? I had one when we went on holiday to Lanzarote last year.” He lowers his voice pointlessly. “Wear some tight boxers, that’s my tip. Just in case.”
I’ll be honest, I’m not in love with the idea of a random stranger touching me, but it’s thoughtful of Elliot and very kind of him to pay, so I do my best to smile and look grateful.
After a cup of tea, I have a shower. Except I secretly check Instagram in the bathroom, and I see a post from Tariq, and now I just feel like spending the whole day under the duvet. It’s a picture of him laughing, a candid sort of shot, which genuinely looks candid, just Tariq, relaxed, utterly joyful, and the caption: Yesterday ranks as one of my Top Five Best Days Ever.
I already know that his number one Best Day Ever was the time he went to Disneyland, and his number two Best Day Ever was the day he found out he was going to Disneyland. That leaves three further Best Days Ever, and if one of those is taken up with whatever he was doing yesterday with Dylan, my question is, is one of the remaining two anything to do with me? Because, here’s the thing – most of my Best Days Ever are connected with Tariq. Pretty much every single time he came to find me in the library was a Best Day – seriously, just that short interaction with him would put a smile on my face for hours. I would be walking on air I was so happy he spoke to me. The day I actually got together with Tariq is obviously a top Best Day Ever. Mum thought I’d taken up drugs because I was “acting out of character” – that’s how happy I was. Kissing Tariq – Best Day Ever. Spending the day with Tariq in the shopping centre, and even though we didn’t do anything that would make anyone think we were boyfriends, just knowing, having that little secret? Best. Day. Ever.
But do I feature in his top five? Did I ever? Or did I once, but have now been replaced by better memories, better days, a better boy?
Anyway, all this is playing on my mind as Dad signs the massage consent forms, (“Ooh, it says there may be intimate touching! I’m signing a form giving permission for my teenage son to be ‘intimately touched’! Go on, son, go and get ‘intimately touched’!”) and we are introduced to the people who will be doing our massages. Elliot is with a very kind-looking young woman called Maria, who oozes gentleness. Jack is with Javier, who is Spanish and beautiful, with devastating eyes and an aura of calm. And I’m with Olga, who is exactly like you’d imagine. Before I know it, we’re all lying face down on massage tables, boxers on (I took Elliot’s advice), and towels over us from the waist down, in this candlelit room which smells of lavender and other herbs I don’t know the names of, with gentle music playing – mainly the odd ripple of water, some wind, the sound of a quiet bell, some whales shagging, I don’t know.
“Is this pressure OK?” Maria purrs at Elliot.
“Mmm,” he replies.
“This feels all right?” Javier asks Jack.
“Huh, yeeeeah,” Jack moans. “Ahhh, yeeeeeah…”
Olga whacks me hard on the back. “YOU HAVE MANY KNOTS! WE NEED MUCH PRESSURE!”
I grimace and bite into the pillow. I’m not sure what the protocol is, but I sense I’m just meant to take it. We lie in silence for a bit, the other two making occasional groans of what definitely sounds like pleasure, while Olga works away on me like a pneumatic drill, pummelling my flesh and muttering things like, “So many knots!” and, “Ach! So tight!”
Of course, Elliot can’t stay quiet for long, so after about five minutes he pipes up with, “So, we can spend the day in the spa here, if you boys fancy it? Jack?”
“Yes, perfect,” he moans. “Oh my god, this is better than red velvet cake.”
“Nate? Or do you think your folks will want to get away?”
“I mean, ARGH! AH! AH! I’m sure they’ll AHHH! HA! ARGH! UG! Be happy to stick around for a—WAAAAA AHH! Christ!”
“RELAX!” commands Olga. “So TENSE! These knots!”
I release a breath. “I’ll do whatever.”
“We could swim for a bit,” Elliot says.
“Yeah.”
“And there’s a sauna, steam room and some relaxation pods…”
“Hm,” I mutter, finding it hard to muster the enthusiasm for anything because all I can think about is, AM I ONE OF TARIQ’S TOP FIVE DAYS? And, to a lesser extent: Am I just one giant bruise at this point?
“What’s up, Nate?” Jack asks.
It almost makes me smile, the way Jack just knows something is up. He’s always had this sort of sixth sense. He’d know when I was worrying about a test, or upset about something. But what I’m upset about today is stupid. And I don’t really want to share it. So I just say, “Nothing.”
“’Cause you sound kinda sad,” he continues.
I don’t know what Olga does, but something pings sharply, by my spine. “ARGH! I’m fine.”
“Sometimes it’s good to talk,” Elliot adds. “If you’re sad.”
“I’m not sad.” I take
