“Forgive us,” Kingston says to my mother, then looks up at me as he continues. “I borrowed the toothpaste from her bathroom drawer without asking this morning. I didn’t realize how offensive that would be taken. My mistake.”
“Oh.” My mother smiles, obviously not having caught all of my yelling before or she wouldn’t be buying such a simple explanation and seeming so relieved right now. “Well, I’ll pick you up some of your own today. Is there anything else you need?”
When he gives a quick head shake, she glares up at me. “Echo, apologize. Now.”
If looks could kill, the one I have pinned on Kingston would incinerate him on the spot. He’s ballsy—I’ll give him that. If I tell the truth, my dad will have him shipped back home within the hour, which in turn would ruin things for Sebastian.
And that’s the only reason I tamp down the venom in my next words, instead spitting them out as sugary sweet as possible as I leave the clear promise of revenge to my glare.
“I’m sorry,” I lie, before slamming my bedroom window shut. I decide to try and pretend the incident never happened, because today is about tackling the atrocity of high-school cliques and I don’t have the energy to focus on both. Kingston’s real lecture will have to wait.
~~~~~
Maybe it was the sparring match with Kingston that changed my hopeful determination to a glum, grouchy mood. Or perhaps I’m lacking the carefree chip in my brain that every other person surrounding me seems to have. But at least all I have to do is keep a friendly distance from everyone except Savannah and a few other girls I have cordial acquaintances with until graduation. Then I’ll never walk these halls again. It’s what I remind myself of all morning, but unfortunately, it’s barely working.
My mother worries I’m missing out on the “best years of my life” by being a social introvert. I prefer to think of myself as socially selective; less than a handful of people, fellow students or otherwise, make the cut. My father, on the other hand, loves that I am focused and have never dated a single guy. Sebastian’s even more delighted about that latter fact.
I suspect that’s a big part of the reason I’ve always been friends with Savannah: I never have to worry that the spotlight may accidentally fall on me when she’s around. Except when I perform, of course—that’s the place I’d like to think I shine, but not for the audience as much as for myself and my family. It’s what I was born to do.
“Am I about to be gob smacked by some amazing trick that only your locker performs?”
The unmistakable accent is accompanied by a captivating laugh, and I glance over my shoulder to find Kingston standing directly behind me.
“What in the hell are you doing here? And what are you talking about?” I slam my locker shut, then whip around. “You have classes…at another school…don’t you?”
My brows knit together. Sebastian always had a full day, so I just assumed the same would go for Kingston. Yet I’m about to head to lunch, and here stands a college guy in my high-school hallway. Not your everyday occurrence.
“I’m on lunch and don’t have another class for an hour, so I accepted your lovely principal’s invitation to come tour an American high school.” When I say nothing, my eyes honing in on him questioningly, he chuckles again. “Right. I thought it odd myself, but then I couldn’t help wondering what you were up to, so here I am. You’ve been staring at your locker for over five minutes. I’m anxiously awaiting the show that must be coming.”
My brows slide lower, my glare now as scathing as my retort’s about to be. “I was thinking. I’d suggest you try it sometime.” I step into him and poke at his firm chest. “Like, before you’re tempted to snoop through my room ever again!”
His eyes brighten, as does his smile. “Couldn’t help myself. But please, feel free to peruse any and all of my private—”
“Mr. Hawthorne!”
Principal Callaway greets Kingston excitedly as she rounds the corner, halting his next words in the process.
“There you are. I was just speaking with our football coach, who’d like to meet you. His grandfather lived in London for a short time years ago, and—”
“After lunch, perhaps?” Kingston interrupts, but smoothly enough that she doesn’t seem to mind. “I’m curious as to the cafeteria setup on this side of the pond.”
“Oh, of course. Just stop by my office when you’re done, then.”
“Really?” I quip as soon as she’s gone. “You want to check out the cafeteria?”