Elliot, Song of the Soulmate (Love Austen 5)

Elliot gave him a thumbs up. “Promise.”

“Promise, eh?”

“Champions three years running.”

Kyle dodged Wentworth’s outstretched arm. “Yeah, I’ll need more than your word, Elliot.” He looked at him, holding his gaze. “I’ll need an invitation.”

Elliot had never been so off his game in his life.

It wasn’t due to the awkward embarrassment between him and Kyle, or their stiffer-than-usual competition on the debate floor. It wasn’t even due to his mum, who’d chosen to sit in the front row, curly hair—that he hadn’t inherited—blocking the view of the parents in the row behind her.

It was due to Wentworth McAllister, Scottish transfer to Port Ratapu, who had surprised him last night and continued to surprise him by showing up to school for this debate. He leaned casually against the back wall and smiled and, mortifyingly, Elliot lost his train of thought. Stuttered in his conclusion. It took every ounce of concentration to recover from it.

When the adjudicators left the room to make their decision, Kyle released a relieved breath.

Elliot hitched his brows.

“About last night . . .” Kyle’s cheeks turned a similar burgundy to the old carpet. “I made an ass of myself. I’m sorry for, uh, everything.”

“Is this you apologising? Or is this what Wentworth told you to say when you had that private chat in the bathroom?”

Kyle dropped his chin to his chest. “Both. He said to do it after our debate, where he could see me do it.”

Elliot glanced to the back wall where Wentworth was still leaning. Parents eyed him quizzically as they crossed the aisle to chat with other parents; he smiled and nodded at everyone.

He caught Elliot’s eye and saluted him.

Elliot shook his head, grinning. Who was this guy?

“I don’t get what you see in him,” Kyle murmured. “He freaks me out.”

“That’s because he could kick your arse.”

“You’re shorter than me. Aren’t you petrified?”

“Not by the height difference.”

But there was a fair amount of fear pulsing in his veins. His body honestly didn’t know what to do with itself. He was a shivery mess inside, and he had a strange urge to laugh. It honestly didn’t matter at what. And when the adjudicators returned and favoured their opposing team, it burst out of him. A heavy laugh that went on and on. He was absolutely horrified, and it was impossible to stop.

The applauding audience trained their eyes on him and he waved away their concern. “Sorry. It’s . . . I made a promise. I’m in trouble now.”

He glanced at Wentworth, who miraculously hadn’t fled. He pushed off the wall and charged down the aisle, laughing himself, all sparkly-eyed confidence and gently bouncing hair.

He stopped at the desk in front of Elliot and grinned, bowing. “May I take you away for some much-deserved punishment?”

Another laugh escaped. “My mum heard that.”

Wentworth swung around, following Elliot’s gesturing wave. He stepped toward her. “Elliot’s mum! Your son is the reason I woke up with a sore throat this morning!”

Mum blinked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Well, Kyle is partly to blame too. I tell you, between the two of them . . . what a night.”

Elliot had never been the overly dramatic sort, but today was a day of firsts, and the implications behind Wentworth’s jolly announcements certainly required thumping his head against something hard—

“Don’t worry, I plan on returning the favour.”

—and groaning.

Mum looked positively bewildered. Her cheeks turned redder than Kyle’s.

“And trust me, he’ll get more than a sore throat!”

Elliot choked. So, it appeared, did his mum.

Wentworth clapped his hands together. “I hope you won’t mind me stealing him to get started.”

“Wentworth,” Elliot gasped. “Clarify the context immediately.”

Wentworth shot Elliot a look. “You didn’t tell her about the party?”

“No, he did not.”

“Ouch,” Wentworth said after a pause. “Looks like I’ll be the yin getting punished.”

Oh good God.

Wentworth reached out and patted his mum’s shoulder. “If it helps, he didnae drink much. We were very safe.”

“Safe. Well. I . . . I’m glad to hear that.”

“Oh for all that is holy.” Elliot rose to his feet and planted himself between them, audience gawking. “Wentworth, Mum thinks you’re . . . doing me at parties. Mum, I promise you, I absolutely promise you, when I . . . get done at parties, I will not tell you about it.”

Wentworth frowned, possibly replaying the entire conversation in his head. “Huh. That puts punishment in an entirely different light.”

“Annnnd, excuse us.” Elliot cuffed Wentworth around the arm and pulled. And pulled. “Yeah, you’re going to have to move, big boy.”

“Big boy?” Wentworth looked intrigued.

“Stop it.”

“Man, the big boy bit was all you.”

“You make me funny in the head.” Elliot pulled more insistently and Wentworth folded into it, allowing himself to be dragged out into the foyer. The heat under the soft material of his sweater made Elliot’s hand feel weirdly light. He let go hurriedly. “We can’t be friends now.”