‘Thank you, fans!’ Josh yells.
Despite his best efforts, Owen crawls behind Josh for the final lap and the race ends with a howl of victory from Josh. I sigh and force myself to applaud him.
‘An honour,’ Josh announces, going to shake Owen’s hand with a luminous smile. Owen just looks at it with disdain.
‘Rigged,’ he scoffs as he stands up to pass the controller to the next player.
‘Agreed,’ I say, shooting a glare Elliot’s way.
He lounges happily beside me and strokes his chin in thought. ‘So many possibilities… what will I make you do?’ he mutters to himself.
An incredibly unwelcome fire lights in the centre of my belly at his words combined with his dark rasp. This is torturous.
‘You’re not daring me to give up the stick, I’ll say that.’
‘I’m thinking of something much more interesting than that,’ he retorts.
I use my shoulder to shove him off the edge of the armchair and delight at the light yelp that escapes him. He catches himself and lands on his feet but for a moment he looks beautifully dishevelled, his hair falling over his eyes as they shoot me a glare.
Owen and Josh approach, still bickering.
‘Are you feeling okay? That was quite humiliating,’ Josh says.
‘Humiliating? I practically gave you the win by crashing out, you didn’t even have to race.’
‘Gosh, you’re very rattled. Would you like to sit down?’ Josh replies with delight.
‘Nice racing, lads,’ Hennie says, as we all stand to leave. ‘Devastating blow, Owen.’
‘Okay, I’d beat all the rest of you in a heartbeat so you’d better shut up,’ he quips, resulting in us breaking out in giggles. ‘Especially you, Walker.’
‘You’re not wrong, buddy,’ Elliot says, patting his back consolingly.
We make our way back outside with one of Josh’s annual tasks on his checklist completed, and he has an even greater spring in his step as a result. A quick discussion takes place on where to head next, and we make a loose plan to walk towards The Warren to see what’s happening around there.
Elliot and I trail behind the others when he suddenly turns to me with a knowing glimmer in his eye.
Oh no.
‘What now?’ I demand, exasperated.
‘I think I might have just had a small breakthrough,’ he says, a hint of deviousness in his tone. I frown.
‘What? On the last clue?’
‘No.’ He grins. ‘But I do have a dare for you.’
31
Great. It only took Elliot ten minutes to come up with a new method to torture me. This ought to be good. I plant my hands on my hips.
‘No need to give me that look, princess. It’s not a mean dare.’ His lips twitch, but he takes slow, hesitant steps. ‘If anything, it’s generous.’
‘I’ll believe that when I hear it.’
‘Okay, so hear me out.’ He swallows hard, all humour gone from his expression. ‘I want you to do a photoshoot with Owen.’
‘Right.’ I blink. Blink again. ‘Wait, what?’
