Filthy Foreign Exchange

by Angela Graham

  And the quote he leaves on the mirror? Well, let’s just say it stokes the fire that simmered inside me all night to fully aflame, hazardous levels.

  No man knows how bad he is till he has tried very hard to be good.

  I wipe it away instantly, growling to myself. To hell with his “nobility” and mixed messages, storming into my life and dangling his charm and everything else I can’t have right in front of my face!

  He texts me several times throughout the day; no girl pictures this time, just completely random stuff, like a bird bathing in a puddle, a tree whose leaves are caught between summer green and fall yellow, and even one of his untied boot. I don’t respond to any of them.

  Finally, in last period, he uses words.

  Kingston: You’re angry.

  I am, along with a heavy mixture of upset and bewildered, though I’ll never admit that to him. But I also won’t act like the immature schoolgirl he already seems to think I am.

  So to prove that—and because he used words this time—I respond.

  Me: No, I’m not. Why would you think that?

  Not entirely a lie. I’m not just angry.

  Kingston: Because you’re glaring at your phone, blemishing your beautiful face with that scowl I fear I caused.

  My head pops up, eyes scanning frantically until they land on his, which are watching me through the glass pane in the classroom door.

  What are you doing here? I mouth.

  Waiting for you, he mouths back with an irresistible smirk and wink.

  It’s a double-whammy reminder of all I can’t have. But he’s here, because he knows I’m upset. Who could stay mad after that?

  Not this girl.

  Of course, I have to wait for the swarm around him to scatter before I can get close enough to speak to him after class.

  He’s wearing his combat boots, dark jeans, and a gray shirt, which is wrinkled from all the pawing. His nearly black hair sticks out in many delicious directions…and those smoky eyes are anchored to mine.

  “You spend more time in this high school than half the guys who actually go here,” I say with a laugh as I approach him.

  “I don’t enjoy being ignored,” he states.

  “I imagine you don’t. Droves of attention seem more your thing,” I tease, now walking to my locker to put my stuff away.

  He follows and leans one shoulder against the locker beside mine, his arms crossed over his chest. “Jealous?”

  “No more than you were about Craig.”

  I can’t believe I just said that! I don’t actually think he was jealous anymore—in fact, I’ve spent all day in a grumpy shame spiral, because his very specific advice and abrupt departure last night made it perfectly clear he wasn’t. And yet, I’d put it out there anyway.

  No wonder he mystifies me. I can’t even figure myself out.

  “Touché,” he chuckles, taking my hand in his.

  I’m baffled all over again, because his reply implies he was jealous. But actions speak louder than words, and considering the dialect barrier, he’s probably just using that one wrong.

  “Are we done fighting now?” he asks.

  I roll my eyes and close the locker with my free hand. “We were never fighting. I had a brief lapse in sensibility, but I’m over it, so let’s move on.”

  “As did I.” He kisses the inside of my wrist. “So we agree—it’s forgotten. What are your plans now?”

  “I need to go pick up a few things for next week’s show.”

  “Such as?” he asks.

  I explain as we walk to my truck; his parked right beside it.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  I shrug. “You can if you want. Want to ride with me, or follow?”

  “I’ll follow. Then perhaps we—”

  “Kingston!” The squeal echoes across the parking lot, and I have no doubt that somewhere, glass has to be shattering from the unnatural octave.

  Courtney, a blonde cheerleader in my grade, comes bouncing up to him, her hands immediately connecting with his arm and chest. “What are you doing here?”

  I’d give her a two, but he might misunderstand and think I was saying “Peace out,” so I generously hold up three fingers.

  “I gotta go,” I say before climbing into my truck, no longer caring whether he follows me.

  But when I stop at the first light and happen to look in my rearview mirror, he’s right behind me, accompanied only by a smug grin.

  Chapter 16

  Savannah rides home with me on Friday, and wastes no time in revealing her agenda.

  “There’s a party tonight and I really want you to go with me, Echo. I can’t go by myself, and—”

  “Okay,” I say, saving her the convincing spiel.

  “But you didn’t even—wait, did you say okay?”

  I laugh as her prepped argument dies and disbelief settles across her face.

  “Yep, I’ll go with you.” I’m in a great mood today. Kingston and I had a great time shopping yesterday, his texts today were all light and funny, and I aced the calc quiz. Why not try out a party for once?

  “You’re serious? You’re actually agreeing, just like that, to go to a party tonight with me?”

  “Yes.” I look over at her and smile. “Why are you repeating everything?”

  She holds up her hands. “Just making sure you understood the question. Kinda feel like you either missed the key details, or I’m in the Twilight Zone right now.”

  “I understood,” I say, laughing. “I’ll go, and I’ll drive. What time should I pick you up?”

  “Eight-ish?” Her pinched face makes it clear that she still doesn’t believe me, and in the back of her mind, I know she’s forming a plan B for when I don’t show up to give her a ride.

  “Savannah, I’ll be here,” I assure her as I pull up to her house. “I promise.”

  “Okaaay,” she drawls as she climbs out of my truck. “What are you going to tell your parents?”

  “The truth: that I’m spending the evening with you. But,” I continue, pointing a finger at her and leaving no room for argument in my tone, “Sebastian isn’t my parent. So if he asks, don’t tell him I’m going with you.”

  “Yeah, of course, no worries there.” She dodges my stare, then runs to her door. “See ya at eight!”

  When I get home, Kingston’s truck isn’t there, and only my mom and Sammy are sitting on the couch. Perfect. I can get this over with right now.

  “Hey, Mom!” I call over my shoulder, pretending to be digging for a snack in the pantry. “Is it okay if I hang out with Savannah tonight? We haven’t spent much time together lately.”

  “Of course it is, honey. What do you girls have planned?”

  “You know Savannah—no tellin’ what the night will hold.” I laugh past my stitch of guilt.

  I didn’t lie…but I do trim around the edges of the truth more and more these days.

  “All right, you girls just be smart. Are you sleeping over?”

  “Um…not sure yet. I doubt it. But if I change my mind, I’ll call you.”

  That was easier than expected, and as I climb the stairs to my room, I feel more my age than I ever have. I’m going out on a Friday night…to a party. I don’t even know what to think, but I know I’m tingling with excitement. I’m finally going to explore this whole best-years-of-your-life stuff my mom’s always talking about.

  It doesn’t take much for me to get ready; I own very little makeup, and my hair is a short pixie cut that pretty much styles itself. I dress in jeans, a lightweight but long-sleeved sweater, and ankle boots. I feel pretty good about my ensemble.

  That is, until I honk from Savannah’s driveway and she strolls out to my truck. Not that I’d ever wear anything close to what she has on—I think her “dress” was manufactured with the intent of being worn as a shirt—but if all the girls tonight are similarly scantily clad, I’m going to stick out like a plain, boring thumb, thus drawing attention to myself by trying not to draw attenti
on to myself.

  Yeah, I suck at this social stuff.

  “Are you wearing makeup?” she asks as she climbs in the truck.

  “Are you wearing a bra?” I retort.

  “No,” she scoffs, looking at me like I’m crazy. “You can’t wear a bra with this dress, Echo.”

  “I think you may be using the word ‘dress’ wrong,” I grumble, wondering what my brother would think of her outfit. “So where am I going?”

  She rattles off the address and I start down the street, beginning to rethink this whole night.

  “Please promise you won’t leave me standing alone in a corner like a social leper tonight, okay?” I plea, my anxiety mounting.

  “Of course I won’t, silly. Plus, Clay will be there. And Crai-aig,” she sing-songs. “You’ll have plenty of people to talk to, don’t worry.”

  Fantastic. Hearing that Clay and Craig will be there actually has my stomach twisting even harder.

  “This is it.” She points. “Turn right. It’s the house with all the cars out front.”

  “Which house? The whole street’s lined with cars. My God, the whole town must be here.” I creep down the street, unsure what the hell I was thinking when I agreed to this. “Whose party is this, anyway?”

  “I don’t know. I heard about it from Sadie. There’s a spot—park there!”

  Sadie? Did I hear her correctly? There’s only one girl I know of by that name, because Savannah hangs out with her on campus. That means…I’m at a college party?

  I park and switch off the ignition with numb, tortured movements. If my brother or parents find out about this...

  I inhale deeply, futilely searching my depths for optimism. Tonight better be worth it.

  It’s a good five-minute walk from our parking spot to the actual party. The front door’s wide open when we get there, and Savannah saunters right in like she owns the place, with me glued to her back.

  “Hey! Aren’t you Sebastian’s little sister?” a huge guy with blond hair and beer breath asks me immediately.

  “No, sorry. You must have me confused with someone else,” I mumble, ducking my head and pressing myself tighter against Savannah’s back.

  She reaches behind her and finds my hand to drag me through the jam-packed house. Music is blaring, mixing terribly with the stench of sweat, liquor, and catastrophe. There’s barely room to walk without playing bumper-bodies with a bunch of strangers.

  Once we make it through the living room and into a sunken den, the crowd thins out. Some of the tension eases from my body and I release Savannah’s hand, standing up straight to take a look around.

  “Isn’t this great?” she yells, using the word ‘great’ wrong too. But I smile weakly, and nod. “Oh, I see Clay! Come on!”

  And, once again, I’m being dragged by the hand through what has to be a preview of hell.

  Clay whistles at Savannah. “Hey, look at you! Want me to get you a beer?”

  “Um...” she dillydallies, turning to give me a questioning look—which seems to be the only reason Clay finally notices that I, too, am standing there.

  “Echo?” His eyes double in size, and his jaw drops. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Nice to see you too, Clay.” I cross my arms and narrow my eyes. “And I’ll pass on a beer, in case you were about to offer.”

  He wasn’t nearly as shocked to see Savannah as he was me—even though, last time I checked, she goes to the same high school I do. He also thought nothing of offering her booze.

  What else do I not know about my friends?

  “Ah, baby girl, don’t be mad at me.” His arms snare my waist before I see it coming and can stop him, pulling me in for a hug. My face is smooshed into his shirt, which smells like an ashtray. “I can’t believe you’re here, is all. But I’m happy as hell you are.”

  “Uh-huh,” I say, pushing off him and turning back to Savannah—who’s already found another guy to get her a drink. A red cup is in her hand, a giggle on her lips.

  I stomp over, about to chew her ass out for drinking, when her “new friend” sizes me up with a creepy leer. “Well hello there, gorgeous. Can I get you a drink too?”

  “No.”

  That threatening growl didn’t come from my mouth, but I know exactly from whose it did. I spin slowly, my nose nearly brushing his chest since he’s standing so close to me.

  It’s Kingston—scary Kingston, tugging me flush against his side and glaring at the guy who just offered me a drink.

  “Piss off, Cody,” he snarls. “This one is not drinking, and is also completely off limits.”

  “Jesus, bro, relax.” The Cody guy backs up. “I didn’t know. Damn, should’ve just pissed on her leg.”

  Just then, Clay barges over. “I had that shit covered,” he snaps at Kingston.

  “Looked like it,” Kingston sneers back before grabbing both my arms, maneuvering me to fully face him. “What in the bloody hell are you doing here, Echo?” He stares down at me, his face red and eyes blazing.

  “I came with Savannah,” I reply dumbly, still processing his reaction.

  “And where might she be, then?”

  “Right—” I glance over my shoulder, expecting to find her in the same spot she’d just been in, not a foot away, but coming up empty. “Well, she was right here.”

  He dips his head and I feel his mouth brush against my ear, his whisper warm on my skin. “You shouldn’t be here, Love. This is no place for you.”

  I pull back and look up to meet his eyes. I’m suddenly fuming. “And why not? I’m not ten, Kingston, and you’re not that much older than me. I’m allowed to have fun, just like everyone else.”

  “Of course you are. I simply meant—”

  “There you are!”

  Some girl wearing even less than Savannah, which I would’ve sworn was impossible, bounces over and literally pushes herself between us. She reaches up to wrap her arms around Kingston’s neck and coos, “You owe me a dance, sexy. Let’s go.”

  Clay capitalizes on the distraction by grabbing my hand. “I’ve got Echo. Go back to your girl, mate,” he goads Kingston, tugging me in the opposite direction.

  And I let him, because I have no desire to watch Kingston dance, or do anything else, with that girl. But I peek back over my shoulder before I can stop myself, to find that Kingston hasn’t moved. His eyes are locked on me, an annoyed frown marring his face.

  I look at the girl, then back at him, and hold up one finger—not the middle one, although I’m tempted.

  ~~~~~

  My head is pounding, and I’m positive this is at least the fourth time this same freaking song has played since I’ve been here. Shuffle All, anyone?

  Clay shows me to the bathroom, promising to wait right outside the door for me. But I’m not at all surprised to find, when I walk out, that he didn’t. So now I’m left wandering on my own through God only knows whose house to find Savannah, beyond ready to leave.

  I make it halfway down the hall when the commotion in a room to my right snags my attention. I stand just outside the door, peeking around the jamb to figure out what it is I’m hearing. Oh, surely not.

  From what I can gather, a group has assembled to play what they’re calling Shot or Dare—a very lame adaptation of Truth or Dare, which I didn’t realize anyone beyond the age of fifteen still played. More disturbing than the pathetic game, however, is the fact that Clay and Savannah are both in there, neither seeming concerned with my whereabouts.

  “I dare you to play.”

  The husky challenge scorches the back of my neck. Kingston.

  I shake my head quickly. “I need to get home. No way I’m staying with Savannah after the way she’s treated me tonight, and weekend curfew is midnight,” I answer while still facing away, watching the room in disgusted fascination as one girl takes her shirt off.

  “I’m aware. We still have plenty of time.” He spreads his palm across my lower back. “Come, let’s play. I won’t leave your side. I sw
ear.”

  I don’t stop him when he urges me forward.

  Savannah notices us enter. I take that back—Savannah notices Kingston enter and jumps up, running over to us.

  “Echo, I was looking everywhere for you! Where’ve you been?”

  I abandon every manner I’ve ever been taught and answer immediately—and bluntly.

  “No, you weren’t. You’ve not given a single damn where I’ve been all night. But I’m a good friend, so if you’d like a ride home, I’m ready to leave.”

  “Oh, um…” She bites her nail, dropping her gaze. “I’m gonna sleep at Adrianna’s. I thought I told you that. And I did look for you, I swear.” She peers up at me through a liar’s lashes and offers a small, apologetic smile. “Come on, stay a little longer. Craig’s over there—maybe he’ll pick you for a dare.”

  Every muscle in Kingston’s body goes rigid when she says that. I can feel it from where he stands behind me, his front flush against my back.

  “Brilliant,” he says with a bite of sarcasm. I feel his hand move to my hip, flexing and holding me tightly. “Savannah has a ride sorted, and we have some time to play. Come then, Echo. Let’s see what it’s about.”

  Savannah claps. “Yay!”

  Seriously? Did she miss the part where I insinuated she was a terrible friend and I was upset about it?

  “Whatever,” I concede, not resisting as Kingston moves us farther into the room.

  We share a beanbag for a seat and watch a few rounds of the foolishness. A guy named Bryce, whom I remember from him having played football with Seb, dares a pretty redhead to give him a lap dance. And she does, with no shame, in the roomful of people.

  It’s her turn next, and she dares a guy I don’t know to drop his pants. He has the modesty to instead opt for a shot…from her cleavage. But he doesn’t just take the shot—he spends a whole lot of time “stuck” between her breasts.

  Well, nix the modesty credit I just gave him.

  Next, he dares another girl to flash her breasts. Did he not get his fill from the last pair? Of course, the entire room is cheering her on—not that the encouragement’s needed, considering she’s already standing and giving a little ass shake while she raises her top.