I’m tempted to choreograph the performance to a Spice Girls song, just to tease him, but I honestly can’t produce anything I’d be proud of around their beats. So instead, I go with “Paradise” by Coldplay; the dance is for him, so the song shall be too.
And once I work through the intro, I feel confident about where I want to take the rest of the dance, so I head in for dinner.
The moment I spot Kingston’s truck in the driveway, a strange swish rolls through my stomach and my pace increases—until I’m inside, and find he’s not around.
“Do I have time to shower before dinner?” I ask my mom, who’s still at the stove.
“Sure, honey.” She smiles. “What were you out there working on?”
“Just something new,” I answer quickly before bounding up the stairs, calling back over my shoulder as nonchalantly as I can muster, “Where’s everyone else?”
“Your father ran into town, and I’m not sure where Kingston and your brother are,” she answers.
Kingston and Sammy are together? Doing what?
I hurry through my shower, hoping to have time to go track down what they’re up to before we eat. But I don’t forget to do one very important “other” thing before I turn off the water and step out, a grin plastered across my face.
When I’m dressed and my hair’s towel-dried, I head downstairs to find everyone sitting at the table, waiting on me.
“Sorry. I tried to hurry.”
“It’s fine,” my father says. “Your mother said you were working on a new routine?”
I glance over at Kingston, who’s beaming at me.
“New routine? That sounds lovely.” His eyes dance with the knowledge that it’s the performance I owe him being discussed.
“Um, yeah.” I blush, then busy myself with helping my mom carry platters to the table.
“I’ve been working on something too!” Sammy boasts. “Kingston’s helping me!”
“Well, how sweet! John, isn’t that wonderful?” my mother asks, sitting down at the same time I do.
“Uh-huh,” my dad grumbles, filling his plate. “You boys just be careful. Don’t get carried away.”
The table rattles, announcing my mother’s foot has connected with a table leg instead of my father’s. I hide my laughter, but give Sammy an encouraging smile and Kingston an appreciative one.
And the rest of dinner goes off without a hitch—in fact, my mother does most of the talking, thrilled that Sebastian called her earlier today. I listen, adding obligatory responses here and there, but my nerves are fraying more with each passing minute…because the weight of Kingston’s stare never leaves me.
I just hope my father isn’t noticing the same.
After the meal is cleaned up and I’m sitting in bed, finishing some homework, I hear the shower turn on.
It takes a minute, but then he calls out, “My pleasure, Love,” in response to my message written on the shower door: Thank you for the tire job.
~~~~~
Wednesday starts with a shower note waiting for me—Happy Hump Day—and I have to laugh. Seems our international visitor is picking up more American slang than I realized.
And it’s slang he finds worthy of further examination, if my first text of the day—a picture of an actual camel— is any indication.
As I stare at it, a goofy grin on my face, his words come back to me: You delight me.
Yeah, he kind of delights me too. Silly, uncomplicatedly, delights me.
Kingston: Hump also means to have sex, correct?
Me: It can, why?
Kingston: Absolutely nothing sexy about a camel.
Me: LMAO (that means Laughing My Ass Off). And agreed. Not sexy. But “Hump Day” means making it over the hump of the middle of the week.
Kingston: Ah, that would explain it. So no sexual connotation?
Me: No, not everything is about sex.
Kingston: You can see how I’d be confused though?
Me: Yes, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt on this one.
So, before I explained, was he worried all us Americans had to find someone to “hump” every Wednesday? I shake my head and laugh to myself. Oh, Kingston.
My next picture arrives at lunch. This time, it’s more of what I’m used to: a girl. Except this one is actually striking a pose for him! No joke—she’s got one hand on her hip and the other over her head, her boobs pushed so far out they’re almost popping through my screen.
Me: Did you ask her to POSE?
Kingston: Sadly, no. Nor did I request she say “cheese.”
I snap a picture of the cheese on my sandwich and send it back.
Me: Cheesy. She gets a 2.
“Did you just take a picture of your sandwich?” Savannah asks.
“Nope, just the cheese,” I reply through a snicker, not looking up from my phone.
She doesn’t let up. “Why?”
But my focus is hanging on the next ding of my phone.
Kingston: I was thinking 1.
Me: 1 it is.
“No reason.” I shrug, glancing Savannah’s way with a secret smile.
My phone dings again, and this time Savannah snatches it out of my hand so fast I can’t stop her. Shit!
“Um, Echo? Why did Kingston just send you a picture of a whale?”
My smile is so wide my cheeks sting. Because they, too, have humps.
“Give me that.” I snatch my phone back, surprised with how annoyed I am at her intrusion. “Don’t worry about it. Inside joke.”