I notice him turn to me with that infuriating smirk, putting me on guard. I immediately respond with a glare.
‘What?’ I spit, already preparing myself for an irritating comment.
‘That’s the first time you’ve used my actual name, you know.’ His eyes dance with warmth as they bore into mine.
‘No, it isn’t,’ I retort with a frown.
Surely that’s not right?
‘Alright,’ he says airily, that quiet smile still firmly in place. ‘It’s seven-thirty now so if these post-its are to be believed, we have until five o’clock tomorrow to get to the next clue. Which is something to do with… lobsters?’
‘Orfromfive o’clock,’ I note.
‘Right. Good. We have a lot to consider.’
‘Okay, I don’t think there’s anything else in here. Let’s get out and brainstorm,’ I say, turning toward Elliot as he reverses back out of the phone box. He holds the door open for me wordlessly as he appears to be searching around the tent for something with a grim expression. I hop out, shooting him a grateful smile.
‘All okay?’ I ask.
His eyes are still glued to the entrance of the tent. ‘Yep.’ He nods, then guides me back toward him with a hand on my shoulder. ‘Let’s just wait here a sec.’
‘What is it?’ I ask quietly. Concern begins to crawl over me that Lee has decided to make a reappearance.
His eyes flick back to me before nodding his head towards the table where we had been standing earlier.
I immediately recognise large eyes framed with purple shadow, and a head of long, blonde hair. It looks like our followers have officially made a comeback.
‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding,’ I hiss. ‘What shall we do? If we leave now, they’ll see and probably follow us out.’
Elliot grimaces before ducking down and gently tugging my arm down to follow suit.
‘Let’s just try to not let them see us,’ he says calmly.
I spin around to see the telephone box still empty and retreat back inside it, pulling Elliot with me. I hope the vivid red lighting mixed with the lamplight reflecting off the sides of the glass would hide us well enough.
‘This will do,’ I murmur, as Elliot leans back to pull the door firmly closed behind him. It is amuchmore snug fit thanearlier with the door shut, given that Elliot’s broad form is now enclosed next to mine.
Oh. Oh no.
I mentally scold myself for getting stuck in the same position for the second time today, noticing that Elliot seems to be doing the same; he briefly closes his eyes with a resigned sigh.
I prefer not to bear witness to the pain he is obviously in, so I turn my attention to look outside through the small glass panes. I wonder if the girls are planning to wait around to see if they can spot us, or if they’re actually attempting to look for the clues themselves. Not ideal, given the clue is in here.
Unfortunately, the edge of Elliot’s hip grazing mine is rapidly becoming all I can think about.
I try to avoid facing him so as not to create more unnecessary discomfort for him, but my neck is already starting to ache slightly from staring out of the glass at an odd angle. Elliot appears to be looking outside our small prison to look for the two girls too. I swear I feel a whisper of his breath tickle my cheek. I draw in a deep breath and attempt to release it normally, with pleasing results. No audible sounds of wheezing or any shakiness. Good work!
Christ. Applauding myself for breathing. I’ve reached a new low.
It feels like we’ve been standing in close proximity for several years, when in reality it can’t have been longer than a full minute. I almost feel bad for the guy. It probably feels like a millennia for him.
My eyes desperately fight for a reason to look at him, and for a moment in the corner of my vision I swear I see his cool gaze sweep over me before glancing away.
I quietly wonder if I’ll last much longer engaging in breathing exercises without passing out. Icannotbe the girl who faintsinto the arms of Elliot Walker because I am unable to physically withstand two minutes enclosed in a telephone box with him.
But then a sudden shout erupts from somewhere nearby that forcefully jolts my body upright in shock and Elliot fully turns to me with wide, dazzling eyes.
My body goes completely still, his stare pinning me into place. My cheeks flare with heat as his gaze runs across my face and lingers painfully around my lips. He’s devastatingly beautiful, the red lights dancing across his cheeks and lighting his hair with a vivid fire – looking like an apparition or something straight out of a dream. In the midst of deciding whether to let myself happily stare at him or throw him backwards out of the telephone box, I realise his eyelids are suddenly heavier and his face is moving closer to mine. Then I’m not thinking anything at all, because the space between us is gone, and his lips meet mine.
