Filthy Foreign Exchange

“Ah, Echo here can be a stubborn one,” Clay says. “With new folks, anyway.” He grabs the rope at my feet and glances up with a creepy grin. My return smile couldn’t be more forced.

“She really can be,” Savannah adds, giving me a dubious look that I counter with one just as iffy. “But we still love her.”

Kingston glances between her and me, then hitches the box he’s holding up higher on his shoulder before asking Clay to lead the way to the storage shed.

I want to believe Savannah’s here because she knows we need to talk, what with the whole her-ignoring-me-in-class-and-me-ditching-her-after catastrophe looming between us. But alas, her sole focus remains steady on the backs of Clay and Kingston, casting doubt on her intent. It’s not until they enter the shed and the door shuts behind them that she remembers I’m standing anywhere in the vicinity.

“Damn, don’t you wish the guys around here were more like Kingston?” Savannah gushes. “Fancy, smooth, kisses on the hand. So romantic.”

“Sebastian does lots of romantic things for you,” I grunt as I move cartons toward the front for the guys, who are now returning. “Heads up!”

I throw a box at Kingston that he catches effortlessly, with a cocky tilt to his lips and an amused twinkle in his eye. I ignore the zing his impressed expression sends through my entire body, shuffling around the truck and returning my attention back to Savannah.

“It isn’t a bad thing that Seb didn’t go around taste-testing the germy hands of every girl in town, Savannah,” I advise her once Kingston’s back at the shed and out of earshot.

“No shit,” says Clay as he joins me, uninvited, in the back of the truck. “Watch yourself, Savannah, or Echo here’ll turn a hose on you. I got that, sweetie.” He nudges me. “Lemme get the rest. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

I not-so-gently nudge him right back. “No. And I’m gonna hurt you if you ever think about calling me ‘sweetie’ again. You hit your head today?”

Kingston’s deep and husky laughter announces his return. It’s not the worst sound I’ve ever heard.

“Ah, there’s the Echo I thought I’d lost. Welcome back…” He pauses. “Love.”

Our eyes meet, and he knows that I know what he just did there. And now he’s waiting, with a questioning haze in his unfaltering stare, to see if I’m going to correct him on his term of endearment, like I did with Clay. And judging by the animosity I can feel rolling off Clay, so is he.

“Well, I’ve had enough of this fun.” I roll my eyes and jump to the ground. “All I wanted to do was unload the truck, but I’d rather watch paint dry than any more of this. You guys knock yourselves out—and don’t break anything!”

“Wait up!” Savannah is at my side a moment later. “Listen, I know I owe you for helping me land the calculus class, and I appreciate you driving me there, but leaving me? And knowing my phone was dead…”

Crap. I’d forgotten that her phone died in my truck on the way over. Yep, I’m officially turning into a bitch.

I stop cold and turn to look at her, shame undoubtedly written all over my face I can feel twisting with regret. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

“Me, or that I had no phone?” Her hands rest on her hips, one side cocked in irritation.

That defiant stance, after I’ve just offered an apology—something I’ve yet to hear from her, notably—sends any guilt sailing from my body, considering I have my own frustrations with her actions in the classroom earlier.

“The phone,” I grit out, then start walking again.

“So you’re okay with leaving your best friend on a campus full of strangers?”

“Thought you had lots of ‘friends,’” I respond without looking back or ceasing my retreat, raising my arms to trap the last word in air quotes, “at the college. So many, in fact, you couldn’t get away from me fast enough!”

I feel her close in on my back right before her hand grabs my shoulder to slow me down, but her gesture only speeds me up. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. So go strut back to the guys, and—”

Suddenly she’s in front of me, blocking my path. “Stop! I’m not sorry I got excited on our first day. I’m also not sorry I wanted to hang out with some girls we used to go to school with.”

My eyes widen, lips hardening in a tight, angry line. I’m shocked at her words.

“But I am sorry that I wasn’t a good friend, and ignored you in class,” she continues. “And that I got so sucked into the whole crowd that I didn’t stop to think about how you’d feel. I never thought you’d actually leave me there, though. But when I saw your truck was gone, I knew it was my own fault.” Her face finally crumples with some guilt of her own.

My irritation drains away, and I feel my expression soften. “Sava—”

“No. I get wrapped up in myself sometimes. You know that better than anyone else. But I’d never purposely hurt you. I hope you know that too. I’m sorry.”

She leans in for a hug, which I pull her in closer to willingly return. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have left you. It was just overwhelming…having Kingston there, causing absolute chaos.”

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