by S. E. Hall
I’m such an idiot, getting worked up over what—Kingston being Kingston? In reality, I should’ve learned my lesson last fall, and actually remembered it. Near the end, we’d fallen into a friendly—well, cordial—indifference, and the chance of us ever being more had been ripped, blatantly and repeatedly, off the table.
So why am I letting what he does with other girls now, many months later, bother me—and consequently trying my dimwitted best to ruin this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity on the very first day? He’s clearly moved on from the emotional merry-go-round of whatever we once shared, and I thought I had too.
Time to prove it.
I take a quick shower and decide to leave my hair down, allowing it to dry naturally as I slip on a pair of cutoff shorts and red tank top. Once I’m all packed, I’ve had time to refocus my thoughts on what matters, and I’m ready for the day’s adventures to begin.
I grab my bag, sling it over both my shoulders, and head out the bedroom door.
But something stops me, hitting my leg and almost tripping me. A bell rings at the same time I catch myself from falling on my face, and I look down to see…
A booby trap. Yes, someone connected a string with a bell attached to it across the doorframe. And I don’t have to ring it again—that one tiny sound is enough for the door directly across from me to open instantly.
Kingston stands there in black pajama bottoms and no shirt—a very good look on him that I’ve seen before but hadn’t realized how much I’d missed. His dark hair is an unruly mess, his normally vibrant eyes bloodshot.
“You’re awake.” He sleepily states the obvious, running a hand down his face.
“I am.” I flash him a phony smile and rip the string and bell down, tossing it at him—which he catches mid-air.
“And that,” I say, nudging my head toward the contraption in his hand, “wasn’t necessary.”
I pull my prescription bottle from the front pouch of my bag and rattle it.
“Sleeping pills.”
I take a step to head down the hall when he cuts off my path.
“I worry about you,” he whispers, his eyes shifting wearily between mine. “Last night—”
I shake my head quickly and release a strained, awkward bubble of laughter.
“No. Do yourself a favor, and don’t worry about me. Don’t worry about how I sleep—and definitely don’t worry about your exploits bothering me. Last night was nothing but an annoying disturbance in the hall. That’s it. You want to fuck Jackie and every other female who drools your way? Go for it. My being around never stopped you before.”
“You’re lying. And you’re still terrible at it.”
“Excuse me?” My eyes narrow. “You had no problem strutting your parade of whores right past me last year. You think I care now?”
“I heard you last night, through the door—after you slammed it. You were angry.”
No wink, no charming smirk. He wants this to be a serious conversation.
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Echo…”
He reaches up to stroke my cheek, and I dodge his touch as though it’d sear my skin.
His sigh of defeat doesn’t stop his next words.
“I see it now, written all over your face. And even more powerful than that, I can feel it, scorching between us. You’re fuming inside over what you saw, Love. I just needed to know that.”
“Screw you! I’m not fuming about you macking on some girl! I have plenty of other reasons to hate you. And I warned you about calling me ‘Love.’ There are a lot of words I’d use to describe you, but surprisingly, ‘deaf’ isn’t one of them.”
“My apologies, Love, I forgot. Habit.” He hitches a shoulder and gives me a sheepish grin, but his expression quickly turns grim—assumingly from the daggers I shoot him. “And yes, you have many reasons—and every right—to bloody well hate me. But we need to discuss—”
“No! You had months to explain what happened that night, but instead you chose to skip town and never look back. You don’t get to play with me now just because you’re bored. My feelings aren’t your personal toy, Kingston!”
“I’ve been anything but bored since I left the States.”
“Oh, I can only imagine.” I roll my eyes, fists clenching at my sides. “And I don’t give a shit. You and Jackie can go live happily ever after, christening every landmark we see, for all I care.” I hear it myself, the way I hissed her name, the rage behind my every word.
He didn’t miss it, either, judging by the way his mouth curls up into a masterful grin.
“There’s something still here—there always will be,” he says. “We both know it. I tried to let you go because you deserve so much better than I could ever offer. You deserve the world. And now that I know I haven’t completely lost all of you, I’m going to make sure you get it. So how about we strike a deal?”
A deal? Like maybe he goes to hell while I explore his country? Sounds fair to me.
I don’t bother to point out how he doesn’t know how to keep a deal, considering the dance I worked so hard on that he never saw, the prom I didn’t attend, and how Sammy had to saw me in half during his magic show. It’d only add fuel to his egotistical fire.
“I’m listening,” is all I give him, in a tone that hopefully conveys that fact that I’m now the one who’s already bored.
“You and I will be spending a lot of time together over the next few weeks, so how about we start fresh? Just for this trip?”
He moves in closer, his fingertips skimming my arm.
I step back. “No. Too much happened to forget.”
He simply nods. “You’re absolutely right, and honestly, I don’t want a fresh start. That would mean forgetting the start we already had, and I refuse to ever forget that. What I actually want to do is make amends.”
“I find it’s better to just not screw up in the first place.”
“Indeed. How about you give me a chance to show you everything you’ve been missing, and I won’t make a move on you?”
“Seriously?” I nearly snort. “I dare you to make a move on me. After weeks in that cast, my upper-body strength is better than ever—especially my right hook.”
His gaze shifts to my arm, and a dark cloud passes over his expression.
“I have no doubt,” he says, then directs his attention back to my face. “And I’m talking rubbish. I’m going to be completely frank with you, Love.”
We dance again; he moves forward, and I step back. But he doesn’t stop this time, continuing toward me until my back is flush against the wall.
My hand shoots out and presses against his chest, but he simply takes it and lifts it slowly to his mouth. My knees are wobbling and my lips are trembling, but I don’t stop him as he places a small, lingering kiss on the underside of my wrist.
I close my eyes, trapping the tears I feel welling up. I want to scream at him, push him away, but some traitorous part of my brain has taken control and isn’t letting me do anything other than stand there and allow him to pull forth painful feelings I thought I’d buried.
Kingston runs his strong fingers through my hair, eventually resting his hand on the back of my neck as he leans into my ear.
“I want you, Echo—every single beautiful, stubborn part of you. I’m never going to give up again, because I know what it feels like to walk away. And now that I have you here—have you back—I’m too selfish to ever let you go again.
“You’re mine. You’ve been mine since the night you came crashing down on top of me, and I was about to stop Jackie last night until I heard your door open. A good man would apologize—and I am sorry, for playing your emotions—but I needed to see if you still felt it, too. You proved what I already knew when you slammed that door shut…that I am yours.”
“You’re not,” I whisper, battling through the fog in an attempt to defend myself against everything he just said—words I once would’ve given anything to hear, his version even better than that of my dreams. But i
t’s too late.
“I’m going to prove it, no matter what it takes. We belong together.”
And before I can even think rationally, his lips crash against mine, hard and hot. His hands dig deeper into my hair, and he presses his body flush against mine. I feel him everywhere, every area of my body where a part of him rubs against me burning from the inside out.
He growls, begging for entrance, and I submit unapologetically. His tongue sweeps inside, stroking mine. I can’t stop the emotions that pour over me, or the forceful moan that spills from the deepest pit of my heart, bursting open and releasing every memory of him I had locked away…
“No!” I say as forcefully as I can despite my heaving chest and breathlessness, breaking away from the kiss brusquely.
He doesn’t stop me, but he also doesn’t step back. Instead, we stand there, every inch of our bodies still compelled together. My panting and fresh tears are on full display, and though he attempts to wipe the latter away, they only tumble out harder.
“Please, I just wanted to come here and see a tiny bit of the world. I can’t do this. What we may or may not have had is in the past. I’m begging you to leave it there.”
“Echo.” He rests his forehead against mine, staring deeply into my eyes. “I care about you more than anything in the world, and will do whatever it takes to end your tears and make you smile.”
Raw vulnerability cracks my voice. “Then please, just let me go.”
“I can’t. Not again. Never again.”
My eyes close, and I’m ready to tell him that his refusal means I’m going home, when he adds, “But I’ll give you time, and I’ll earn back your friendship. That’s what I need more than anything, Echo, you in my life, any way I can have you.”
“Even if that means all we can ever be is just friends?” I push gently on his chest, needing room to breathe.
“Yes. If that’s all you have to give, then yes. Let me take you out for breakfast, and I’ll tell you everything that happened that last day.”
I shake my head adamantly.
“No. I can’t hear all that right now. I just want to forget for a while and enjoy London, then Paris, and everywhere else we’re going. I’m moving forward, and not ready to look back on all that crap. You want to earn back my friendship? Then give me space.”
“I’ll give you anything.”
“I just want to have some fun right now. Deal?”
He winks. “Deal.”
I step around him to go back into the bedroom, needing a moment to collect myself and wash my face. “I’ll be down in a bit.”
“Of course. Take your time,” he says. “And Echo?”
I peer back over my shoulder.
“Your hair’s gorgeous. It suits you well…even softer and more magnificent than I imagined it would be.”
I only smile, shutting the door between us and begging my heart to close the Kingston box and lock it tightly.
But I know it’s a foolish plea. How can I possibly expect my heart—the most powerful, yet fragile, organ in the body—to resist when my scalp still tingles from the desperate touch of his fingers, and my tongue continues to swipe across my swollen lips for another taste of him?
Chapter 4
We all board a bus with the foundation’s name emblazoned across the side to start the first trek of our journey. According to today’s schedule, we’re headed to check in at our first hotel before visiting a few of the many landmarks I intend to explore on this trip—beautifully crafted pieces of history I never dared dream I’d actually see in person.
I can’t turn away from my window; my eyes are wide, mouth slack at all the culture passing by as we travel. I’m actually here—far from my safety net of Kelly Springs, and finally experiencing the dreams and adventures that have long existed only in my mind and textbooks.
“Understood?” Kingston asks all of us following a long-winded speech about the rules and expected decorum. I caught most of it; I’m sure anything I missed was just common sense.
“There it is!” the girl beside me squeals, pointing as we approach Tower Bridge. “Isn’t it incredible?”
I smile, my awe and giddiness silently matching hers. “Yeah, very.”
“We’re a group,” Kingston continues. There’s more? “But you’re also all adults, so you have the freedom, should you choose, to divert from the schedule or planned tours to explore on your own.
“But the foundation guidelines clearly explain that you are still expected to check in at least once a day in each city,” he continues. “You can do this through a phone call or text message to myself, or by leaving a note at the front desk of the hotel we’re staying at for any given destination. With that being said, I may not be much older than most of you, but I’m more than capable of leading an interesting tour, should you choose to stick with me.”
“We will,” Jackie spouts off from her seat beside her new sidekick Bridget. “There’s so much to see and learn, and we know you’ll keep us safe.”
My eyes roll at her blatant flirting.
“Not a fan,” the girl beside me mutters, laughing softly.
“Of?” I ask, turning her way.
“Row-One Desperation.”
I laugh out loud, unable to keep it in and causing all eyes on the bus to look my way.
“Sorry,” I choke out, biting down on my uncontainable grin.
Kingston’s brow furrows in curiosity as I slouch down into the seat and duck my head.
“You have to admit, that Jackie girl is as transparent as a Petri dish, and obviously eager to catch some new STD. I find it slightly disturbing…yet at the same time, I’m curious how long it’ll be till I turn a corner on this trip and catch her on her knees for one orrr,” she drawls out, “all of our male fellow travelers.” She leans back in her seat, smiling at me as though she’s actually as sweet and innocent as she looks, and quips, “Wanna place a bet?”
I instantly know two things about this girl beside me: One, I like her, and two, she can talk faster than anyone I’ve ever met. She’s about my height and only slightly heavier than me, with a shy-girl vibe that just got completely obliterated—in my eyes, anyway.
Oh, and she’s smart—who thinks of a Petri dish for a metaphor?—so, make that three things I know about my neighbor.
“What kinda bet are we talking?” I ask, my voice as low and conspiring as hers just was.
But before she can answer, I sense someone looming over us. I turn my head slowly, already knowing whom I’ll find, to peer up into the charcoal gaze of Kingston.
I toss him a simple, indifferent smile, but he remains right next to our seats for the remainder of his speech.
“Everyone will have a roommate at the hotels. You can pick that person now, or we’ll pair you up when we arrive at the first one in a few minutes.”
Without even knowing her name, I look at my seat buddy and we silently agree, we’re sticking together.
“We have twenty-four hours to enjoy London before we travel on this same bus to the countryside and explore Bath,” Kingston explains. “If you miss the bus at any time over the next few weeks, report back to the foundation secretary, whose number you should all have.”
We pull up in front of a large hotel that offers a perfect view of both Big Ben and the London Eye, the latter of which is only a block away.
“All right, everyone off!” Kingston instructs. “Grab your things, and meet me in the lobby.”
My new roomie laughs. “Holy shit! Can you believe this? We’re here! And by the way, I’m Natalie. But you can call me Nat.”
“Echo,” I tell her.
“You have any cute brothers named Alpha or Bravo?” She laughs again. “Maybe a rebellious sister, Delta?”
I respond with my own bubble of laughter. She’s not just smart, but witty to boot! I’m liking her more every time she speaks.
“Kidding.” She grabs her bag. “Kinda.”
We follow the trail of our group—which includes about t
wenty members altogether, only a few of whom I’ve officially met—through the front doors of the hotel.
If there was any doubt we were tourists before, it’s cleared up instantly for any and every person on the street as several of the girls pose for selfies in front of the statues that seemingly guard the hotel doors. Patton is standing nearby, dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and gray polo, staring down at a map.
An odd feeling suddenly hits me. I know he’s at least semi attracted to me, since he asked me out, and the longer I stare, the more I can’t deny that I find him easy on the eyes. But the instinctual, unstoppable twinge of excitement that I’d experience every time I’d look at Kingston is missing.
Correction, there’s no past tense about it. I still feel it every time I look at him…which I’m doing right now as he stands at the front desk, talking to an employee. There’s the familiar, instant fluttering through my stomach.
I need to find a cure for this ailment—a disconnect button for our undeniable connection. And the best way, the only way, I can think to do that is to stop telling myself I’m moving on and actually do it.
But Kingston’s lips are the only pair I’ve ever felt devour mine. His hands are the only ones to tangle in my hair, his body the sole magnificent physique to ever press me up against a wall. Maybe that’s why I’m holding him in this coveted place in my head…and heart.
So I need a new set of lips to touch mine, to replace the taste of Kingston’s. I need to explore more than the countryside. It’s time for me to spread my wings in other ways as well.
“So, you gonna stick with the tour guide, or go on a solo exploration?” I ask Patton as I approach him.
He looks up from his map, giving me a once-over before returning his focus downward.
“You mean that pretty boy who’s apparently screwed half the country?” he replies. “Nah, I think I’ll stick to myself. There’s a lot to see, and I don’t have the patience to listen to him explain shit I can read on my own.”
His tone isn’t harsh, just honest. But while his words do hold some possible truth, he doesn’t know Kingston well enough to talk about him that way. And it’s pretty boy’s mother’s foundation that’s giving you this amazing opportunity.
