Filthy Foreign Exchange(24)

“You swapped out the ‘look-at-me mobile’ for a truck, to go off-roading?”

I’m not sure my eyes can squint any more narrowly, or whether I could be more…shocked? Impressed?

This night gets more baffling by the minute.

“I did. I’m particularly intrigued by this off-roading activity that’s spoken of as though it’s a religion. Needed a truck for that.”

“Mm-hmm.” I eye him suspiciously. “I’ll bet that’s why you did it.”

His only reply is a wink before he saunters toward the beautiful machine, not a single girl anywhere near it. “See you at home, Love.”

“I’ll be more than asleep by the time you’re done clubbing.”

“I believe I offered to follow you home.”

He’s actually serious about skipping the club…which, I admit, I’m particularly intrigued about.





Chapter 10


The next morning, I’m up before everyone—except my mom, who’s reading the paper at the kitchen table as she enjoys her coffee and the only solitude she’ll receive for the day.

She looks up as I walk in. “Echo! How was your night? Did you have fun?”

“Not really,” I laugh, “but I survived.” I slide into the chair across from her. “And in case you’re wondering, our football team isn’t very good this year.”

She lowers the paper to the table, feigning relief. “I’ve been dying to know. Thanks for the update,” she jokes back with me. “I’m sure Savannah was thrilled you were there, though.”

“Of course. She’s good, too. Wish she put in the same work for our routine as she does for cheerleading.”

“I know, sweetie.” She tilts her head and sighs. “Her dedication isn’t always as strong as yours, but she tries. She knows she’s the best at cheering, but the same can’t be said when following your act.”

“Mom!”

“What?” She fakes innocence. “In the air, you’re the star. And she knows it, too—probably now more than ever, since Sebastian isn’t here to dote on her every move.”

I shake my head. “He wasn’t that bad. I’ve seen him critique her before.”

“I have no doubt your brother wants to see her succeed. But he also liked having her around every day, and made sure she knew it.”

“Well, she seems to be coping just fine.”

My mother looks away with a frown. “I’m sure.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, dear.”

She lifts the paper back up, but I push it down gently.

“Mom, you’ve been acting really weird about Savannah. What aren’t you telling me?”

“Really, I shouldn’t have said anything.” She brushes the conversation away with a wave of her hand and tries to change the subject. “So, how are you and Kingston getting along? He’s a nice boy. Cute, too.”

I can’t keep the scowl from my face. “Nice try. What’s going on with you and Savannah? Did she do something?”

“Echo—”

“Please just tell me,” I nearly beg, unable to stand the vagueness another second.

She sighs. “I just think Sebastian deserves better than…never mind.”

I snap my mouth shut, stunned that my sweet mother just admitted that aloud. I understand, to an extent—is anyone ever good enough in a mother’s eyes?—but she’s said all she’s going to on the topic, judging by the stern look she gives me.

“Well, I just want Seb happy.” I stand, gladly changing the subject myself this time. “And Kingston is nice enough. As far as cute…” I shrug a shoulder nonchalantly. “I can see how some might think so.”

My mother’s laughter follows me to the foyer. “You headed out to practice?” I nod when I return, shoes in hand. “You’re nervous.”

“I’ve done this routine a hundred times. I’m not nervous, just not overly confident. You know what Dad always says: ‘Good, better, best. Never let it rest, until your good is better—’”

“‘And your better is best,’” she finishes for me, laughing. “Yes, I’m aware. You know Tim Duncan said it first, though, right?”

“I’ve never met Tim Duncan, so he didn’t say it to me first—my father did. Which is why I’m going to practice. Do you mind if I skip breakfast? I’ll make it in for lunch.”

“That’ll be fine, dear. And Echo?”

I stop, her serious tone compelling me to turn around and pay close attention.

“It’s still fun for you, right?”

I scrunch my face. “Of course. Why would you ask that?”

“‘Cause I’m your mom.” She smiles and returns to her paper. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

~~~~~

I’m a sweaty mess walking up the front porch to join my family for lunch when I’m greeted by Kingston, who’s far from sweaty or a mess. No, he looks gorgeous, as he always does; it’d be silly stubbornness to try and deny it. He’s dressed in jeans, the black combat boots that nearly killed me the night of our first meeting, and a black T-shirt I suspect was made specifically to fit his taut torso. His dark hair is perfectly unkempt, and the sunlight reflects off a spattering of green flecks I’ve never noticed in his gray eyes before now.