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Wentworth’s smugness faded. Something akin to vulnerability stole into his posture. He looked at the marshmallows melting on top of his drink.
He might never have said the words again, but Elliot felt them in every look, in every line, in every laugh.
“I say it to you every day in my head.”
Untameable butterflies fluttered in Elliot’s chest. He ached suddenly to say it aloud. “Why do you hold back? You don’t with anything else.”
A soft chuckle, and a softer: “Because.”
“Because why?”
“Because I’m afraid.”
Elliot took Wentworth’s hand and knotted their fingers together. Those dark blue eyes met his. “Of scaring me away?”
“Saying it feels like breaking our one rule.”
Elliot swallowed.
Wentworth’s voice cracked. “What if I say the words and you don’t say them back?”
“I—”
Lips crushed against his passionately. “If they’re meant to be spoken, they will be, but not before we finish school. Okay? Either way I’ll be consumed and we need to focus.”
The urgency behind Wentworth’s request kept Elliot from speaking. He could wait. “How about a compromise? Kind of.”
Narrowed, curious eyes. “Go on.”
“How about we talk about our plans for the summer?”
“That’s a whole three months of our future.”
Elliot nodded. “So it is.”
Wentworth whisked him into his arms and spun around until Elliot was dizzy and shrieking to be put down.
“Your throat-cutting possessiveness in the library. Planning our summer. . . . This is better than the day we had sex on the cliffs and discovered a crowd of penguins gawking at us.”
Elliot shook his head. “Fun day for you. I felt like an unhinged caveman.”
“Today? Or with the penguins?”
“Today!” Elliot laughed and winked.
Wentworth lifted his cup and took a sip.
Elliot contemplated. “Although . . .”
Wentworth choked on his hot chocolate and spluttered all over the kitchen island.
“Oh dear, is he all right?” Mum came into the room and dropped her keys next to the fruit bowl. She looked red around the eyes, exhausted.
“He’ll be fine. Coffee?”
She shook her head. “I’m knackered. I’m just gonna take a nap.” She kissed them both on the cheek and Wentworth’s whole body contorted as he fought not to cough all over her.
He finally recovered and wagged his finger. “Your son will be the death of me.”
“That’s nice. Write a song about it.”
“Shhh, don’t wake up my, my . . . mum. That’s the word. Ha. Mum.” Elliot tripped over his feet.
Hands tightened around his waist and he laughed. Wentworth, his hero. Saving him from face-planting onto the hallway runner.
“Whoever would’ve thought this day would come,” Wentworth murmured. “My Bumblebee, drunk off his very cute arse.”
“School’s over. Done. No more uniforms ever. I can’t see.”
Fingers touched his face and pulled off the tightness around his eyes. Colour flooded his world again. Mostly a gorgeous rusty red. Lips twitched and Wentworth lifted a shiny masquerade mask—from the themed party they’d just been at. “You knocked this over your eyes.”
“Where’s yours?”
“I took it off in your car to drive.”
“You hate driving my car!”
“I stalled three times. I’m no changing my mind about that bloody contraption anytime soon.”
“You do things you hate because you love me.”
Wentworth grumbled and ushered him into Elliot’s bedroom.
Elliot collapsed onto his bed singing Wentworth’s song while Wentworth went about stripping off Elliot’s shoes.
“My boyfriend wrote and sang that,” he announced proudly. “I helped him come up with the word intern—Internable. Interimmable—In—”
“Interminable.”
“That’s it. Interimmable.” Elliot started singing again. “Interimmable love! You sing it better.”
“I hope so.”
“Sing it for me?”
Wentworth unzipped Elliot’s jeans and peeled them off, singing softly.
Elliot pushed up into a sitting position and managed to grab a handful of Wentworth’s shirt. “Kiss me. Kiss me like it’s the last time you’ll ever do it.”
Wentworth slung himself lengthwise on the bed beside him, cradled his head in those big, careful hands and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips.
“That’s what a last kiss would look like?”
Wentworth stroked the hair out of Elliot’s face and stared intently at him. “I hope I never know what a last kiss with you looks like. But if we have to have one, we’ll be old and crotchety, arthritic perhaps, and we’ll be careful touching one another. The softest kiss will be the kindest.”
Elliot curled against him and looked up into those beautiful eyes. “Will you stay the night?”
“Can’t. Job interview tomorrow, remember?”
“You’ll get it and then so much for our summer backpacking the South Island.”
“So we’ll pivot our plans. We’ll figure it out together, okay?”
“Give me another arthritic kiss.”
Laughter vibrated through Elliot, and a soft kiss touched the other corner of his lips.
Elliot had his hand fisted around Wentworth’s shirt, holding him close, and Wentworth groaned and placed a final kiss on the bow of Elliot’s lips.
They stared into each other’s eyes. Elliot’s heart pounded. “Are you going to say it now?” he whispered.
Wentworth shook his head. “Tomorrow, Bumblebee. When you’re sober.”
Elliot groaned and rolled over, fishing for Wentworth in the bed—
