~~~~~
I’m woken later with a gentle shake to my shoulder.
I didn’t even realize I’d fallen asleep, and it takes me a second to gather my bearings before I realize Kingston’s standing over me, at the side of my bed. With a silent yawn, I blink several times, just to make sure I’m actually awake and not dreaming up the mesmerizing image of him donned in nothing but plaid pajama pants that rest sinfully low on his hips. I pinch myself under the covers to confirm the scene is, indeed, real. He’s in my room, cast in the perfect amount of moonlight, and showcasing a lot of firm, defined flesh.
Heat coils in every body part below my neck, and I swallow down the lump in my throat. It obviously gets lost somewhere between my best judgment and shyness, though, because I’m somehow able to whisper “Have a seat” as I scoot over to make room for him.
Even in the near-darkness, I can make out a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, and the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. Every deep groove mapping out where one of his muscles stops and the next begins.
Neither of us speaks right away, afraid to pop the safe, silent bubble surrounding us. Here, in our own secret, moonlit haven, there’s an energy—an undeniable connection—that fuses us together, with no touching or words needed.
I’m the first to break our linked stares, looking down to where my fingers fiddle nervously with my blanket.
And he’s the first to shatter the silence.
“Tell me you weren’t serious about that picture today.” His voice is gruff and strained, as though any answer besides the one he wants to hear may break him. “Tell me, Echo. Because he’s far from worthy of you.”
“How would you know that?” I whisper, butterflies striving for escape from my tummy.
“I did my research. He’s a bloody imbecile, and only looking for one thing. It will be over my dead body that he ever gets near you again.”
His fierce objection could be taken like he’s just trying to fill the big-brother shoes Sebastian left open, but I know that’s not it. I’m reserved, not na?ve.
Kingston Hawthorne is jealous. And it’s a very attractive look on him—one I’m selfishly enjoying, immensely—so I decide to prolong it.
“Kingston,” I tut. “You shouldn’t judge Craig from whatever rumors you were able to dig up. That’s not fair. Besides, I’ve lived here my whole life and heard them all before. I’m a big girl, and perfectly capable of making my own decisions.”
“Bollocks,” he growls. “You have no idea what guys are really like. I do!” He slaps his chest. “I’m a guy. I won’t have it, Echo. No way in bloody hell.” He shakes his head, his accent thick with rage.
“Why not?” I ask softly, waiting for his answer with bated breath, foolishly begging for the words I long to hear but can do nothing about. I’m not sure which would be worse: torturously knowing the true source of his adamant disapproval and not being able to act upon it, or not knowing for sure. But I’m positive which situation I’d prefer.
He looks me dead in the eyes, acute awareness therein. And slowly, his brows dip with his frown. He’s not going to say it…and something deep within me starts to ache.
He reaches up, and his knuckles skim my cheek. “You’re magnificent, Echo—a rare, flawless treasure. Don’t waste such exception on any man who doesn’t realize your value.”
I lean my cheek into his touch and let my eyes fall closed, soaking up the warmth of his words. I don’t want to resist this pull toward Kingston anymore. It’d be pointless, anyway, considering it’s far more powerful than I could ever hope to be.
“Kingston…” His name releases on a quiet breath and my eyes open, expressing what the next words that tremble on my lips are about to admit. “I—”
He stands abruptly and clears his throat, taking his gentle touch with him. “Promise me,” he says. “Stay away from that bloke. Surely there are some decent boys in your school. Keep looking.”
I can only nod, holding back my tears of rejection.
He sighs heavily, then smiles slowly. “Thank you. Sleep well, Love.”
I watch every muscle in his back flex as he walks away and disappears through the bathroom.
Suddenly, I’m angry with myself. I’d been a fool to actually believe there was something between us—that he was fighting the temptation of overwhelming feelings, just like me.
Stupid, Echo. You’re a plain, high-school girl who has zero experience with the opposite sex. He’s a gorgeous, debonair college guy with a sexy accent, and can have his pick of any girl in this town.
I punch my pillow and toss and turn, but nothing helps. I can’t get comfortable—neither in my bed, nor my own skin.
Life may have been simpler before Kingston arrived, but what aggravates me most is that I’m still glad he’s here.
~~~~~