Page 239 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

Oh, holy fuck.

Every single eye in the Training Centre is fixed on us.

“And that goes for the rest of you, too.” Scotty’s voice slices through the tense silence and echoes around the main room. “These two are off limits.” A thumb points over his shoulder.

Blinking, I look around me for the third person, but, as I already thought, it’s just me and Tiger.

He’s protecting me.

I look to the brother on my right.

Tiger flashes a megawatt grin at me along with an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

My lips twitch into a small, hesitant smile, his sunshine too bright to not have an effect on me.

Maybe the short time I have left in this life won’t be so bad after all.

***

“Great job, big bro! You’re my hero!” Tiger throws himself at Scotty and smacks a loud kiss on his cheek.

“Fuck’s sake.” Scotty’s tone could sound annoyed to some, but there’s no mistaking the affection in it and his eyes as he shoves his brother back by his head.

The crowd that had gathered outside the private room is gone now, and although the door’s been left open, no one’s attention is lingering on us. Scotty’s words worked wonders.

Words I still can’t believe included me in his bubble of protection.

“So, what’s your name, my guy?”

I startle as I take in the extreme close-up of Tiger’s face. How I didn’t notice him before he got there, I don’t know.

“Uh . . . Alby. Alby White.”

“Nice to meet you! I’m Tiger, and this is Scotty!” An eager finger points to his brother, who stands to the right with his arms folded over his chest. “We’re the Gold brothers! And now that there’s three of us, we can be the Powerpuff Girls!”

Scotty winces. “Absolutely not.”

“The Three Musketeers?”

“No.”

“The Three Amigos?”

That’s met with a heavy sigh.

“Boooo! You Debbie Downer!”

“Okay, we need to get back to training—it could be any minute now that the first Evot is taken in for the live recording,” Scotty says before Tiger can spew out any more word vomit. Not that I wasn’t enjoying it, because I was. Immensely.

“Of course, of course,” Tiger says with a careless wave of his hand. “So what’s your Score?”

I stiffen with his attention back on me.

“Oh, don’t worry, you don’t have to answer. I wasn’t going to judge you. It doesn’t matter if you have a Score of 1 or 100.” My scepticism must be obvious because he continues in a softer tone, “I’m serious—having a high or low Score doesn’t tell me who you are as a person, and that’s all I care about when making new friends.”

Friends.

He wants to be my friend?