Page 113 of Oleander

He’d say these things as though they were friends of mine who’d moved away and I’d normally offer one-word answers until I couldn’t take anymore and say something like: “Can we stop talking about them, Gideon, please?” To which he’d reply, gasping, “Oh, goodness, yes, of course, how indelicate of me.”

I hadn’t responded yet to his last email. I’d only glanced over it: he’d wished me a happy birthday and told me that there was a card and small gift on the way to Oxford for me, described some minor restoration work he was having done to the first floor of the house, and then, to part, a few lines informing me that Cas had passed some important exam at Lervairè with flying colours.

I knew for all Gideon’s talk, that Cas rarely called or wrote to him. The fact was a lot of these updates came via Blackwell himself, and this hurt Gideon. But still, he sounded proud of Cas’s achievements.

And I was proud too until I realised I had no right to be anything of the sort.

The following Friday, Finn invited me out again for a drink. He was with some people from Pembroke – Finn was studying Environmental Research there – and his housemate, Alex. Bast was having dinner with family who were in London and who’dtravelled up to see him. Irish Conn was ill, and Nika had a late paper due.

Ultimately, I said yes because I needed to get drunk, and I didn’t like the idea of doing it alone. In the end, I didn’t reply to his text; I just searched the bar he’d told me to meet him in – a wine bar on Little Clarendon Street – threw on my nicest shirt, dragged my fingers through my hair, and pulled my dorm door closed behind me. Finn was in a loud group seated right at the back of Marcello’s, four girls and three guys, including him. As I did the numbers, I wondered if this was why he was so keen for me to come. He was one guy short.

Finn was deep in conversation with a tall Asian guy who looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine. Skin polished like glass, black horn-rimmed glasses, and wearing a long Burberry overcoat.

A glance around the others settled me a little. They looked normal. Like students, at least. I stood like a dick for a few minutes wondering the smoothest way to introduce myself when Finn looked up. His face lit up, and he waved me over.

“Alcotttttt! You made it!” He shouted as though I’d dragged myself away from something critical to be here and as though Alcotttttt were a nickname he’d called me since forever. Which, as the others turned to inspect me, suspicious and unimpressed, I appreciated.

“Guys, this is Jude, he’s a friend. Shift over, Pete.” He pointed at a guy who looked to be about 6 ft 8 sitting down.

I slid in next to Pete, who lifted his chin in greeting. Finlay went around the table, telling me everyone’s names – names that all seemed to end in ‘Y’s: Maisy, Poppy, Olly, Mary, and Cally. He introduced the guy next to him as Alex, the housemate, who was even more intimidating from this angle,and added my order to the next round Olly was standing to go get.

A half hour or so later of nodding politely and drinking too quickly, I was at the bar when I felt someone squeeze into the space next to me.

“Stick it on our tab,” Finn said as the server placed a pint of Guinness down in front of me. “And two shots of tequila.”

I groaned. “This is not going to end well.”

“We’ve not even started yet.” Finlay grinned. “So, you ever hear from our favourite cuntiest cousin these days?”

My entire body went stiff, and I kept my eye on my pint. I’d been expecting it, obviously, but had been momentarily distracted by the glittering newness of strangers.

“He’s notmycousin,” I said lightly.

“No, no, he isn’t,” said Finn. “Bet you’d still fuck him if he were though.”

My head whipped around, eyes widening.

Finn was smiling mischievously. “Oh, come on. I saw the way you looked at him.” He made a weird eye rolling face.Everything you feel is in your eyes.

Heat crept up my neck.

“So, did you know about him and Blackwell?” He lifted his own drink and took a gulp. “You ever see him about? Apparently, it was all very quick.”

Caspien’s back arched, the dark gold tan of Xavier’s hand. A sharp pain in my chest.

I lifted the small golden glass of tequila the server had just put down and knocked it back in one.

My throat burned hot and resentful. I avoided directly answering the question. “Guess it was pretty obvious now I look back.”

“Fucking Cas.” Finn laughed. He was a little drunk, his cheeks pink and eyes heavy from alcohol. “I mean, what does a guy like Blackwell – hot, smart and successful – see in that little prick, seriously? Like okay, I get that he’s some loaded tragic orphan – although, maybe his dad is out there somewhere, who knows – but it’s not as if Blackwell’s into him for the money.”

Finn had no idea at this point that I also had a ‘tragic orphan thing’ going on.

“And I get that he’s got the perfect bone structure and the moody supermodel thing.” He shook his head. “But he’s just a truly awful person, you know? I hated him my entire life. Probably still do. I don’t know.”

“Why’d you go to his birthday then?” I asked. “If you hated him?”

“Well, Gideon invited me.”