Filthy Foreign Exchange(13)
“So, did you really party with the Prince?” someone asks.
“Oh my God, I heard your family is royalty! Is that true?” another tart butts in.
He ignores them both, his hand coming into view right as a single finger lifts my chin, forcing me to look at him once again. “You have my full attention now, so…hello, Love.”
I swallow, unable to grasp exactly what the pounding in my every vein means.
Hello, I manage to mouth.
Our gazes never sway from one another, not even a blink exchanged between us, until Savannah asks, “Is it true? Are you royalty, Kingston?”
I break eye contact first, and find room among the group for some unsubtle sarcasm. It’s the least I can do, considering he did bring an unwanted spectacle to my locker and dig through my underwear drawer!
“Wow, royalty?” I bat my lashes exaggeratedly. “Can you pencil me in for a high tea later?” I give him a tight, irritated grin, then focus back on my notebook.
His silent stare lingers; I can feel its heat radiating into me. When a chair squeaks, I glance up to see he’s already turned back around in his seat to finally answer Savannah.
“No, not as far as I’m aware.”
A moment later, the professor arrives. She instantly demands everyone settle down and leave the new foreign exchange student alone.
Unsurprisingly, not many listen to her instruction. Throughout the entire class, my attention is constantly diverted from learning to the whispers around me, all about Kingston. Most of them are orchestrated by none other than my own best friend, who couldn’t care less about acing the class. Oh, and is dating my brother!
By the time we’re dismissed, my annoyance has reached an all-time high. Savannah had ignored my many signals that I was ready to leave, so I left without her.
I drive away from the college alone, giving less than a single damn whether Savannah and Kingston were able to procure a ride.
Chapter 6
By the time I race home from school, change into leggings and a sports bra, then dart even faster through our woods to my tree, I’m completely riddled with guilt. I’ve never acted like the bitch I did today. But then again, I’ve also never had my patience absolutely obliterated.
And that is how I’m justifying leaving Savannah and Kingston stranded.
I grab the two strands of silky pink fabric tied securely to one of the tree branches and start to climb, needing to lose myself in my secret spot and routine. Silk dancing is my favorite—a solo act in which I’m the choreographer, the performer, and totally at peace.
But today, the images of Kingston, with his contagious smile and riveting words, run in a constant loop through my mind. If I’m being honest with myself, I did act like a stubborn bitch. It isn’t his fault he’s the new attraction—a superficial fascination for most of the town—any more than it would be Sebastian’s for all the attention I’ve no doubt he’s getting at his new place.
I close my eyes, focusing on each glide of the delicate fabric through my hands and the familiar feeling of it wrapping around my body in artistic comfort. And almost instantly, all else ceases to exist. The music I’ve picked for this routine begins to play in my head, overpowering the musings of Kingston. I spin my body, twisting my legs and using the satiny strands to ascend, then descend, in a series of tedious flips.
I dance in the air as though I’m an extended limb of the giant tree, swaying in the wind, until the muscles in my arms and legs beg for a reprieve. I slide down until my feet safely touch the ground, grabbing the towel I’d brought along to wipe my face.
His reverent praise comes out of nowhere.
“Magnificent.”
Caught off guard, I drop my towel with a squeal.
“How did you find me?” I yell accusatorially. “This is my place—where I go to be alone!”
“Is that so?” His raspy taunt wraps around me as he steps out from the shadow of the tree he’d hidden behind to spy.
“Yes!”
“But you do enjoy knowing I was watching,” he murmurs, moving closer. “Admit it.”
“No, I don’t!”
His flirty grin broadens, becoming a smirk as I argue my half-truth. I can feel my cheeks heat. Again.
“Lying doesn’t become you, Echo. And you’re terrible at it.”
I growl, rolling the tension out of my neck. “I’m not lying, you presumptuous, infuriating—”
“So you aren’t turned on, knowing I was here—that I watched you, and found you to be absolutely mesmerizing?” He lifts one brow, a provoking glint in his steely eyes.
My breathing hitches, and I struggle to recover quickly. “Not even a little bit.” I strive to keep the nerves from my voice; luckily, my anger comes out sounding more like strength.
He takes another step closer, his penetrating gaze holding my own prisoner. “There are some truths you can’t hide.” He dips his head, slowly lowering his eyes to my chest.
I peer down to where his stare is fixed. Sure enough, not only are my nipples hard, but they’re poking shamefully against the thin material of my sports bra.
“Stop looking!” I whip around and sprint to my T-shirt lying a few feet away.
His heady chuckle mocks me as I fight the material over my head. “Oh, but I can’t. You see, I adore the bottoms too. Beautiful arse, Love.”