“I don’t get iiittt,” she whines, her face riddled with puzzlement.
“You’re not supposed to. That’s why it’s called an inside joke.”
Wow, that came out way too snippy. I set my phone down, ready to apologize, but I’m too late.
“Geez!” She holds up both hands. “Excuse me. Didn’t know a picture of a whale was so personal. I’m out.”
She stands up, once again stomping away from another of what used to be our friendly lunches together.
“Savannah, wait!”
I try for an apologetic tone, but she’s gone without a single look back.
I sigh, picking at my sandwich. I don’t want to fight with Savannah or hurt her feelings, but damn. Can I not have this one thing—this unexplainable, fun thing—to myself?
Yes. Yes, I can. And I can even throw in a curveball of real enjoyment. After all, what’s good for the Echo is good for the Kingston.
I jump up, setting out on a mission so foreign to me I almost can’t believe I thought of it. Walking discreetly through the crowd, I search for the perfect target. People are loitering in the halls, done with lunch but not yet due for class.
And that’s when I spot exactly whom I’m looking for: Craig Farrister.
If a girl was able to ignore the fact that his ego is as big as his list of “conquests” and that he’s a lunchroom bully, she wouldn’t mind looking at Craig. He’s a total jackass, but he’s one of the best-looking guys in school.
Which is the only purpose I need him to serve. Gotta start with a bang.
I’m not about to get near him, so I pull up the camera on my phone and zoom in, ensuring my finger’s in position to push the snap button before yelling, “Hiii, Craig!”
He turns my way, and—right on cue—gives me the cocky smile, complete with the lecherous, hooded stare he’s known for, and that I was counting on.
Snap. Perfection!
“Well hello there, Echo Kelly,” he blathers in what I’m guessing he thinks is a sexy tone, slithering toward me. “‘Bout time you took notice.”
No, no.
I jerk my head left, then right; I’m fully surrounded by conversing hordes of classmates. This is why I don’t dabble in deception: a lack of expertise in escape plans.
He stares blatantly down at my breasts. “You’re looking hella fine today, as always.”
“Um, thank you.” I start to back away, bumping into someone or something. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to bother you. I, uh…thought you were someone else.”
As soon as I spit out the last sentence, I turn and literally sprint down the hall. Thought he was someone else? You called him by name! Good God, Echo!
Oh well. Total humiliation is a small sacrifice to make for the end goal. Back to all smiles, I type out my text and attach the snapshot before sending.
Me: He seems nice. Your turn: meter-reading, please.
My eyes are glued to my phone, a giddy little dancer pirouetting in my stomach while I wait for his response.
Which isn’t a text. I jolt with a squeal when the phone in my hand rings!
I rush to the bathroom for some semblance of privacy, but answer on the way.
“Hello?” I bite back my snicker, striving for innocent boredom.
“Who’s your mate?” he growls in my ear, sending rippling shivers down my legs.
“I don’t ask you that—I just give you a rating. So, what’s yours?”
“Chatting you up, is he?”
“He spoke to me, yes.” Not a lie.
“He looks dodgy to me. His eyes weren’t that of wanting to get to know you, Echo. A man knows what that look means on another one. He’s on the pull.”
Ah, the “on the pull” thing again, which I’ve since discovered to mean “looking for sex.”
The bell rings, giving me the perfect excuse to leave Kingston stewing for a while.
“Oh, dang. So sorry, Kingston, gotta go. But I’ll see you this afternoon.”
“Ech—”
“Bye!” I grin as I hang up.
Just as I take my seat in my next class, a text comes through. It’s a picture of a doorknob, and he’s right: Craig is definitely comparable.
Oh, this is fun.
Kingston: -5. No!
I start to reply, but stop. Let’s see just how long Mr. Hawthorne can stand the taste of his own medicine.
~~~~~
Apparently no longer mad at me, Savannah chatters about Craig the whole way to calc. It seems he sought out my best friend to ask about me after the ruse I’d pulled. That’s the thing about taking a shot, I guess: Gotta watch for the backfire.
She doesn’t run off and leave me today when we park, instead hooking her arm through mine and continuing to gush all the way into the classroom about how I should pursue Craig. For the twentieth time, I tell her it was an accident, before starting toward my seat in the back.
But then I stop and stare, suddenly motionless.
In my back row waits Kingston, alone. The intensity rolling off him as his brooding eyes bore into me has my heartbeat whooshing in my ears. There’s no tamping down my nerves, so I do the only thing I can: continue to my seat, setting my books on the desk right beside the one he’s taken up residence at.