My mood instantly sours, though, my face crumpling in disappointment. “You’re forgetting one thing: my parents.” And I’m forgetting that Kingston is off limits.
“Echo,” he responds with a laugh, “how much trouble can possibly be found on a Monday night—especially by you? Give your mum a bell and ask. She’ll say yes.”
“Okaaay,” I drawl, pulling out my phone. I’m pretty sure whatever he just said means call her.
Luck seems to be on my side, as my mom is the one to answer on the second ring. And when I throw in words like “studying” and “calculus,” she readily says yes.
I just stare at the phone after I hang up, feeling amazed…and way too eager.
Kingston’s chuckle snares my attention back to him, his face alive with amusement.
“Was I right?”
“Yes, but we have to talk about calculus at least once, so I didn’t just completely lie to my mother.”
“It’s a bloody shame we don’t take chemistry together.” He cocks his head to the side and grins smugly, awaiting my reaction.
I roll my eyes, ignoring the flare of sparks going off in rapid succession inside me but unable to keep myself from smiling just slightly. “Stop.”
“It’s sorted, then,” he responds, ignoring my last comment. “Where to?”
Chapter 12
“I’ll drive,” I say firmly.
To my surprise, Kingston doesn’t argue as he opens my door for me and gives me a look of understanding from beneath his thick lashes. “Of course.”
Without words, we agree that driving my truck around town will go much more unnoticed than his, and we might just manage to enjoy some privacy. Doubtful, since the females of Kelly Springs seem to have hormonal GPS on his whereabouts at all times, but this plan definitely increases our odds—not to mention, my father would not be happy to find out I rode with the self-proclaimed speed junkie driving.
Kingston gets in and casts me a sidelong smile, everything he’s not saying stirring in his gray eyes.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. I’m simply eager to see where you’re taking me is all.”
Hmm. The fact that I’ve never been on a date, or any social outing alone with a guy—especially one where I led—does pose a problem. And since this town isn’t exactly a thriving metropolis of entertainment, I’m a little stumped on where to go.
“Perhaps we could eat?” he suggests.
I release my lip I’d been chewing on in contemplation. Again, not a whole lot of choices around here. There’s the mom-and-pop diner, but without our senior-citizen discount, I don’t think we’d fit in. And the one burger/ice-cream joint will be bursting at the seams with all the people our age. No, thank you.
“You in a hurry?” I ask. The place I suddenly have in mind is about thirty minutes away.
“Not at all. Do with me as you will—the night is ours.”
His voice is swathed in lightheartedness, but his eyes…they’re hooded, and unapologetic about his deeper insinuation.
“Okay.” I clear my throat and fidget. “I happen to know of a hidden treasure a couple towns over. Sebastian took me a few times, and now…I’m gonna take you. Buckle up.”
“Just you and your brother, then?” he asks, securing his seatbelt. “You’ve never been with anyone else?”
There’s something besides simple curiosity twined in his words—not undetectable, but certainly not definable.
“Nope, just me and Sebastian. Why?”
“No reason.”
That’s a lie. There’s a reason behind it I desperately want to press him for, but I don’t. I’m afraid he might answer honestly, and I might lose the fight against succumbing to it.
“So,” I continue, my voice shaking with anxiety yet again as I try to fill the gaping silence, “you want to listen to the radio? I mean, I doubt the Spice Girls will be playing, but surely we can find something else you like.”
His head falls back with his bottomless, husky laugh. “Since the Spice Girls are the only group from the UK?” He clicks his tongue. “For shame, Love. You know we breed the finest. It’s understandable to be a bit jealous.”
“Such as?” I challenge, ticking off at least five answers in my head. But rather than share my knowledge, I await his answers anxiously.
He shifts in his seat to face me with one brow raised, just like the corner of his mouth—a look I’ve deemed as “signature” on him.
“Music it is, then—an excellent way to get to know each other better, I agree. I’ll name a brilliant band born of the UK, and you tell me your favorite song by them. How’s that sound?”
“Interesting,” I agree promptly, thrilled with the easy way we segue into new, intriguing conversations.
The rest of our trek is seamless, and as much fun as I can ever remember a trip being. Rarely do our choices of “best song” match, but they reveal much about each of us. I always choose the slow, romantic ballads; he, the faster, adrenaline-driven hits: the songs of our personalities.
As we’re debating Coldplay, we arrive.