Filthy Foreign Exchange(21)

“We’ll leave together from your house after dinner. I’d hate for you to get lost, trying to find the huge football field located directly behind our school. See you in an hour!”

She bangs her hand against my truck and skips into her house.

What the hell did I just agree to?

Definitely keeping the perfume.

~~~~~

Savannah shows up right on time for dinner—as does Clay, what with this being a long-standing tradition. The only people missing to enjoy the huge spread my mother has laid out is Sebastian…and his standin.

Sammy asks the question for me—with his mouth full, of course. “Where’s Kingston?”

“He called and asked if he could miss dinner this evening. I didn’t see a problem with it,” my father answers. “Swallow your food, son. I have my own meal. I don’t need to see yours.”

Like every other birthday gathering, we laugh and tell stories. Tonight’s main topic is Sebastian, whom we all miss, though I’ve yet to hear whether he’s called Savannah. It’s hard to believe my brother would forget her birthday, but just in case, I don’t bring it up. And it’s a good thing, because she doesn’t either.

Savannah leans over and hugs my mom. “As usual, everything is delicious. Thank you so much, Julie, but we have to get going for the game. I hope you understand.”

“Of course, dear. I’m just sorry Sebastian wasn’t here this year. You must miss him.” Her statement has the undertone of being more a question. It’s laced with the same skepticism that barely hides behind her eyes as she watches Clay rise from his chair to join Savannah.

I peer over at my dad, who’s already looking at me, and silently ask what’s going on with Mom. He gives a subtle head shake, and I know I’ve just been told we won’t be discussing it.

“Help your mother clean up,” is all he says.

Before I can reply, Clay’s pulling out my chair and Savannah’s talking for me.

“Oh, didn’t Echo tell you? She’s coming to the game tonight to watch me cheer!” She bounces in place, then traps my gaze in hers, daring me to try and back out. “She promised, for my birthday present!”

My dad eyes me, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That so?”

“John, stop.” My mom reaches out and swats his arm. “I think it’s wonderful Echo’s getting out. You go have fun, honey.” She smiles at me. “Your father will help me clean up.”

Clay’s warm breath sweeps along the back of my neck, his voice a low whisper in my ear. “Don’t worry, baby girl. I’ll make sure you have fun.”

And it’s official: Tonight is going to be pure hell.





Chapter 9


Support your friend, support your friend, support your friend. I have to keep chanting the mantra in my head to remain seated rather than run out of this place.

Half the kids here don’t even go to our high school. Like Clay, for instance—who will lose that arm if he attempts to sneak it around me one more time. And that’s not to mention that with pants and a light jacket on, I’m still a little chilly, so I’m at a loss as to why all the other girls in attendance are dressed for a sleazy nightclub in the tropics. I thought the cheerleaders were dressed skimpily, but row three’s occupants put them to shame.

What a shit show.

And just when I thought I couldn’t feel any more out of place—Echo the square peg, trapped in a huge social circle—I hear him.

“Echo? Surely my eyes deceive me.”

I hear Kingston laugh, simultaneously pulling all attention my way as he climbs the bleacher steps toward me.

“They do. It’s not me,” I mutter, crouching further into myself. “Pay no attention to the girl in the coat.”

“Ah, gave yourself away, Love.” He chuckles again and sits down on the side of me Clay’s not occupying with unwanted closeness, the ten or so strangers Kingston walked up with claiming spots behind us. “Only you say such clever things to amuse me so. Clay, imagine seeing you here—and right beside our Echo, no less.”

Our? I peer up with a scowl, only to find the corner of his lip lifted mischievously.

“I’d never make Echo sit alone,” Clay growls back, scooting so close our thighs touch.

“Are you sure you—” Kingston starts.

“Um, Clay?” I almost shout in my haste, unsure of what Kingston was about to say but certain it would’ve be oozing with gross testosterone. “Could you maybe go get you and me some hot chocolate? I’ll buy.” I give him what I hope is an easy, not-panicked smile.

He leans in to me, synced perfectly with my leaning further away. “Like hell you’ll buy. Anything you need, I got it. I’ll be right back. Try not to get her mauled,” he warns Kingston as he stomps down the bleachers.

“What a tosser,” Kingston laughs in my ear. “In proper denial, that one is. As if I’d allow anyone—other than myself, of course—to maul you.”

“Funny,” I deadpan, before staring back out at the field to watch Savannah do her thing. “You’re both equally annoying as hell.”

“What is it I did to twist your knickers this time?”

“Nothing,” I sigh. “Sorry. I’m just on edge being here.”