“We’re here,” I announce as I park. “And the correct answer is ‘Fix You.’ Sheesh,” I tut, getting out of the truck.
He walks around to my side, stopping toe to toe with me, so close I can see his pupils dilate. I smell the mixture of cologne and his natural, masculine scent, feeling the energy radiating off his tense frame.
“Absolutely nothing to fix.”
His eyes drift slowly down the length of me, then rise again to meet mine.
“‘Paradise’ is definitely my answer,” he adds in a rasp, causing my skin to prickle.
If a girl were looking to fall in this exact slice of frozen time—caught in those reverent, silken words from the mouth of this man, his breath warm on her face—she’d be done, having fallen at his feet, never to get back up.
But this isn’t my fairytale moment, nor are my feet leaving the ground. Kingston speaks words that belong in the most romantic of novels and poems because he’s practiced, having perfected the art due to the fact that he’s addicted to the prize it gets him: smitten girls, shamelessly willing to do anything he wants. And when he’s satisfied, perhaps even bored, I have no doubt he leaves them behind…just as he’ll do to me at the end of the school year.
And I already know I’ll miss him, so I’m not about to add a whole other, irreparable dimension to that inevitable pain.
“Echo?”
My name is a tentative whisper on his lips. I shake my head and blink, refusing any further thought on silly matters that aren’t an option for me, and look up at him.
“What were you just thinking about?” He raises a hand, moving to cup my cheek, but I back away quickly.
I speak my next words as though confident and mischievous instead of the splintered and tempted way I actually feel.
“That I’m about to buy you the best pizza you’ve ever had—and not because I’m a super-nice person, but because it’s the least I can do to make up for the brutal ass-kicking I’m going to inflict on you after.” I laugh and grab his hand to drag him inside. “Come on.”
We pick a booth in the back and sit across from each other. Kingston looks everywhere, taking in the space, and I giggle. “Trying to figure out where and how you’ll meet your demise?”
He smiles, intrigue gradually moving up his face until his eyes twinkle with mirth.
“I see no boxing ring, or mud pit.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Not that I’d complain. But yes, I’m a bit curious about the details of this arse-kicking you’ve promised.”
“You’ll see.”
I wink just as the waitress arrives at our table. After a full minute, she’s literally yet to even speak let alone take our order. She’s too busy gawking at Kingston like he’s a zoo exhibit.
My eyes roll instinctively, but she doesn’t notice since she has no idea I’m even sitting here. Yes, he’s beautiful and captivating without even trying, but really? It’s rude. I’m in an exhilarated mood, though, so I decide to not settle for invisibility and have some fun instead.
“Hi!” I say loudly enough that she can’t possibly continue to ignore me. “I’ll have the monkey-brains salad and a large goat’s blood to drink, with extra ice please.”
Kingston’s eyes bulge, and his tanned complexion goes ashen.
“W-what? Echo, I’m all for new adventures, but you can’t be…” He stops, his eyes narrowing as his mouth starts twitching ever so slightly. “Serious. And you’re not.” He exhales and relaxes. “Thank Christ.”
“Just seeing if anyone,” I say, giving the waitress a cheeky smile, “would even hear me.”
Now she deems me worthy of acknowledgment, and her face sours. “What’ll you really have?”
“My hopelessly devoted boyfriend and I would like a large deep-dish Fool’s Gold and two large Cokes,” I say to her, before leaning across the table toward Kingston and batting my eyelashes. “That sound okay to you, honey bunny?”
His eyes turn molten, like swirling pools of melted steel. “Anything you wish, my sweet lil’ kitten,” he rumbles, never breaking our stare.
“Hmph,” the waitress replies, making sure to sound her displeasure before she storms away. I assume she storms away, anyway, because I’m not looking.
Kingston hums his approval. “Nice claws. You’re fuck-all sexy when you’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous.” I laugh through my lie and sit back. “I’m insulted. What if I really was your girlfriend? She’s supposed to take our order, not ignore me and have eye-sex with you!”
“Eye-sex?” He chuckles. “I believe the term is ‘eye-fuck.’”
Oh, sure, that lingo he knows.
I shrug. “I know. I was trying not to be crude. You should give it a whirl once in a while.”
“If you really were my girlfriend…” Now he leans across the table toward me, speaking in a dark decadence that has my thighs quivering. “I’d have all kinds of dirty, crude things coming out of your mouth and directly into my ear—repeatedly.”
I drop my eyes immediately, praying my face isn’t as bright red as I’m assuming based on the fire burning inside me. “Kingston, stop. You can’t—”