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Louisa sighed. “If Brandon even looked my way I’d swoon.”
“I thought you were all about a certain singer songwriter?”
Her face lit up. “You must have heard us flirting. Think I have a chance?”
Someone was whacking out a drum solo on Elliot’s stomach.
Fifteen years. It had been fifteen years since they’d known one another. It was absurd to be feeling like this, so flustered, so agitated. Fifteen years should have cured any painful feelings on both sides. His palms were damp and his knees were close to buckling like his arm had earlier.
Louisa arched a brow, waiting for his reply.
“I—I—all my attention was on Honey.”
“Hmpf. Well, there was definite flirting. And saving Honey like he did! He’s been so warm and friendly to everyone.” She eyed him, frowning. “Except you. He was different with you.”
“The whole Honey thing surprised him. That’s all.”
“Could have, yeah. Or maybe he was surprised to see his high-school classmate again?” She punched his arm. “How could you not tell me such a vital piece of information?”
“We’ve only known one another three weeks?”
“We were talking about him earlier!” She patted Honey. “He certainly had no trouble telling me about you.”
Elliot’s step stuttered.
He wished he didn’t want to know what Wentworth had said about him, but alas. It was all he could think about.
Suspense worked a number on his pulse. He was going to ask. Shit, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself—
“He told me,” Louisa supplied all on her own, bless her, “that you look so different, he almost didn’t recognise you.”
It stung.
“So different,” Elliot murmured. This time he let the heat burning at his throat rise and consume him.
“Now tell me everything there is to know about teenage Wentworth McAllister. What did you do that he doesn’t like you? Were you a bully?”
They’d reached the small music room and Elliot turned his back on Louisa as he fussed with setting Honey up.
Elliot was so different, and Wentworth had barely changed—or if he had, only in ways that made him seem bigger, livelier, more handsome than ever. He shut his eyes.
Never mind. Wentworth could think of him however he liked. So what Elliot had grown gaunt and weary while Wentworth had bloomed into something the world found wondrous?
So different he almost didn’t recognise you.
The words were painful but . . . a certain closure came with them, and that was a good thing. Yes. Very good. They were sobering, and abated some of his flustering.
He’d seen it already. Wentworth had not forgiven Elliot. Elliot had hurt him too deeply. There was nothing to be repaired, because it couldn’t be.
They were two puzzle pieces, each broken. They’d never fit together again.
Fifteen years, Elliot! This is ridiculous.
“Aaaaaaand?” Louisa was curled up on the couch, waiting. He’d hoped she’d forgotten.
“Do you ever actually work, Louisa?”
She grinned. “Technical difficulties. I have to wait for repairs before I can get back on set. Now spill.”
“How convenient on the day of Wentworth’s arrival.”
“I’m sworn to secrecy.” She smirked. “Now spill.”
“There’s nothing to spill. I barely remember our time from high school.”
A hard knock came at the open door and they both turned toward it. To Cameron, with Wentworth.
There was simply no hoping they hadn’t been overheard.
“This is the second, smaller music room you were told about,” Cameron explained, while Wentworth’s cool gaze found Elliot’s and locked on.
Cameron’s phone buzzed. “Emergency meeting on set.” He glanced at Louisa. “You’ll need to be there too. Mr McAllister—”
“Wentworth, please. Everyone should call me Wentworth.” A smile toward Louisa.
“Wentworth,” Cameron acknowledged. “Feel free to poke around and tell me where you’d prefer to set up.”
Elliot lurched to his feet. “Set up?”
Cameron gestured to Elliot, continuing his conversation with Wentworth. “As you see we’re tight for space so whichever you choose, I’m afraid you’ll be sharing.” Cameron smiled warmly at Elliot. “Don’t worry, the headsets are wonderfully soundproof.”
Wentworth glanced to the sound table, Elliot, Honey curled up napping by the pot plant, back to the sound table. Something like resolve tightened his expression. He didn’t look at Elliot again. “This fits my needs better.”
“Wonderful. Elliot, if you could make Wentworth comfortable? Louisa, you ready?”
Louisa left with Cameron, flashing a big smile as she passed Wentworth.
Their footsteps retreated down the hall, and then Wentworth stepped into the room and kicked the door closed with his heel.
Like lightning it thrilled
Like lightning it burns
Cast from the sky
Dunno how to fly
W. McAllister, “Bumblebee Breakup”
The door shut with a punctuating thunk.
Wentworth paced the length of his new desk, body taut.
Elliot murmured, “If this room fits your needs better, I’ll see about shifting.”
“No. You can stay right where you are.”
“I don’t feel like you particularly want to be sharing with me.”
Wentworth’s eyes flashed to his. “I can survive a few weeks. God knows I’m good at that.”
“I can move to the larger music room.”
“You’d be sharing in there, too. And there’s no couch.”
