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RAISED TO BE A GENTLEMAN

Hugh

MAY 31, 2003

M Y JUNIOR CERT EXAMS WERE KICKING OFF NEXT WEEK, AND INSTEAD OF REVISING like I should’ve been, I found myself entertaining two blond terrors.

“Use the cheat,” Liz instructed from her perch on my bed, while she inhaled more than her fair share of our bag of microwavable popcorn.

“Come on, Hugh,” she complained, pointing at the television screen, where I was attempting to dominate a game of GTA . “You’ll never outrun the cops with three stars.”

“Wanna bet?” I muttered under my breath, tapping furiously on the controller in my hands, while I drove through the streets of Vice City like a maniac. “Watch me.” The words were no sooner out of my mouth than three sneaky cop cars crashed into my car.

“Hah! Told you so.” Looking smug, Liz tossed a piece of popcorn in her mouth. “Should’ve listened to me, Biggs.”

This playful side of Liz was a rare and glorious sight, because life had hardened my baby, but tonight she was basking in her youth. In this moment, she looked happy .

“How are you so perfect?” Claire groaned, poking at my girlfriend’s stomach. “You eat like a full-grown man, and you get to keep that washboard stomach.”

“What are you talking about?” Liz laughed, tossing a piece of popcorn at her head only for it to get stuck in her mop of curls. “You’re the perfect one, with your Shakira hips.”

“I dance every day to keep these hips at bay. Meanwhile, you can eat whatever you want and still roll up looking like a bloody runway prodigy.”

“Oh, cop on,” my girlfriend tossed back, entirely uninterested in having the insecure-girl talk. “That’s the biggest load of bollocks I’ve ever heard.”

I grinned to myself and continued to tap on the controller.

That’s my baby .

“You know you’re a complete ride, Claire, so stop fishing for compliments.”

“No, I’m the cute and endearing one,” my sister argued. “ You’re the complete ride.”

“You’ve got that right,” I chimed in, causing Liz to snicker and Claire to groan.

“Ew, Hugh,” she snapped. “I’m legit right here.”

I shrugged unapologetically, retraining my attention on the game. It was bad enough that I couldn’t hold my girlfriend’s hand when my sister was around without sending her into a meltdown; I’d be damned if I couldn’t pay her a compliment. Because even though Claire had relaxed about our relationship in recent months, Liz still refused to participate in public displays of affection. Seriously, it was so bad, she wouldn’t even hold my hand at school, let alone kiss me. We didn’t eat lunch together, either, but that had a lot more to do with the company I kept at the rugby table than my sister.

Claire was accurate in her assessment of Liz, though.

She was a complete and utter ride of a girl.

“Okay, enough of the stinky boy’s room,” Claire declared. Bouncing to her feet, she grabbed my girlfriend’s hand and pulled her up. “We have a movie night to prepare for.”

“Okay, okay,” Liz laughed. “I’m coming.”

“Have fun,” I said, stretching up for a kiss from my girlfriend, only to receive a platonic pat on the head instead.

Thanks, Claire .

Later that night, when my mother lured me down to the lounge with the prospect of watching the movie adaption of her favorite book together, I should have known it was a trap. Instead of pressing play on Falling for a Dancer , when I joined her on the couch, Mam turned to look at me and said, “We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“You and Lizzie,” Mam confirmed, setting her reading glasses on her lap. “Are you doing things with her?”

Aw, fuck .

Here we go .

“Yeah, Mam, I’m doing things with her,” I replied, not even bothering trying to deny it. What was the point? A blind man could see that I was head over heels for the girl. “I’m with her.”

“And when you say ‘with her,’ what exactly does that entail?” Mam asked.

“It means I’m hers and she’s mine.”

“In what context, Hugh?”

“In every context, Mam.”

“I’m looking for more information on the physical, son.”

Yeah, I knew she was, and I was desperately trying to steer the conversation away from that information.

“She’s younger than you, Hugh,” Mam pushed. “You’re both very young .”

“By eight months,” I reminded her, feeling my back go up. “And I’m aware of how old we are, Mam.”

“Then you’re also aware that you’re far too young to have an intimate relationship.”

“Define intimate.”

“Sexual intimacy, Hugh.”

“We’re not doing anything like that ,” I offered, shifting in discomfort. “We kiss, Mam. That’s it.”

She arched a disbelieving brow. “Don’t lie to me.”

Aw, crap .

Aw, crap .

“We’re both virgins,” I tossed out, feeling my palms sweat. “And I intend to keep it that way for a long time.”

Her brown eyes locked on mine, clearly taking my measure, before she let out a shaky breath. “I’m relieved to hear that, son, because I raised you to be a gentleman.”

“Yeah,” I croaked out. “And I’m being one, Mam.”