Filthy Foreign Exchange

by Angela Graham

  I peer over at my dad, who’s already looking at me, and silently ask what’s going on with Mom. He gives a subtle head shake, and I know I’ve just been told we won’t be discussing it.

  “Help your mother clean up,” is all he says.

  Before I can reply, Clay’s pulling out my chair and Savannah’s talking for me.

  “Oh, didn’t Echo tell you? She’s coming to the game tonight to watch me cheer!” She bounces in place, then traps my gaze in hers, daring me to try and back out. “She promised, for my birthday present!”

  My dad eyes me, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That so?”

  “John, stop.” My mom reaches out and swats his arm. “I think it’s wonderful Echo’s getting out. You go have fun, honey.” She smiles at me. “Your father will help me clean up.”

  Clay’s warm breath sweeps along the back of my neck, his voice a low whisper in my ear. “Don’t worry, baby girl. I’ll make sure you have fun.”

  And it’s official: Tonight is going to be pure hell.

  Chapter 9

  Support your friend, support your friend, support your friend. I have to keep chanting the mantra in my head to remain seated rather than run out of this place.

  Half the kids here don’t even go to our high school. Like Clay, for instance—who will lose that arm if he attempts to sneak it around me one more time. And that’s not to mention that with pants and a light jacket on, I’m still a little chilly, so I’m at a loss as to why all the other girls in attendance are dressed for a sleazy nightclub in the tropics. I thought the cheerleaders were dressed skimpily, but row three’s occupants put them to shame.

  What a shit show.

  And just when I thought I couldn’t feel any more out of place—Echo the square peg, trapped in a huge social circle—I hear him.

  “Echo? Surely my eyes deceive me.”

  I hear Kingston laugh, simultaneously pulling all attention my way as he climbs the bleacher steps toward me.

  “They do. It’s not me,” I mutter, crouching further into myself. “Pay no attention to the girl in the coat.”

  “Ah, gave yourself away, Love.” He chuckles again and sits down on the side of me Clay’s not occupying with unwanted closeness, the ten or so strangers Kingston walked up with claiming spots behind us. “Only you say such clever things to amuse me so. Clay, imagine seeing you here—and right beside our Echo, no less.”

  Our? I peer up with a scowl, only to find the corner of his lip lifted mischievously.

  “I’d never make Echo sit alone,” Clay growls back, scooting so close our thighs touch.

  “Are you sure you—” Kingston starts.

  “Um, Clay?” I almost shout in my haste, unsure of what Kingston was about to say but certain it would’ve be oozing with gross testosterone. “Could you maybe go get you and me some hot chocolate? I’ll buy.” I give him what I hope is an easy, not-panicked smile.

  He leans in to me, synced perfectly with my leaning further away. “Like hell you’ll buy. Anything you need, I got it. I’ll be right back. Try not to get her mauled,” he warns Kingston as he stomps down the bleachers.

  “What a tosser,” Kingston laughs in my ear. “In proper denial, that one is. As if I’d allow anyone—other than myself, of course—to maul you.”

  “Funny,” I deadpan, before staring back out at the field to watch Savannah do her thing. “You’re both equally annoying as hell.”

  “What is it I did to twist your knickers this time?”

  “Nothing,” I sigh. “Sorry. I’m just on edge being here.”

  “Apology accepted,” he grants easily, just as one of the girls behind us leans down to whisper in his ear.

  I look away quickly, giving them as much privacy as possible at a football game, but I can’t help noticing him remove her hands from his shoulders.

  “We’ll see,” he tells her. It spikes my curiosity so much that I peek, catching her giant smile as she whispers a not-hushed-enough promise of a fun night.

  When she sits back, I hold up four fingers, my gaze returned to the field but the digits directed right at him.

  “Is that a new way of giving the bird in the States?” he asks. “How did I earn four?”

  I cock my head toward him. “No, that’s where your little friend falls on the worth-your-time scale.” I lower my hand, but not my smile.

  He appears to think it over for a moment before his face brightens with realization. “Not as much as the previous girl in the school lot then, I see.”

  “Nope.”

  “And should I assume this ranking is on a scale from one to ten—the latter of which I’m sure you’ll reserve for only one special girl?”

  “More like a number you won’t find in these bleachers, so don’t bother looking.”

  “I’m only looking at you.” His voice is clear, smooth, and undeniably lower. “And you’re wrong about the bleachers. A bit shortsighted, Love.”

  Nothing could stop me from latching onto his gaze; an undefeatable pull. But the moment I do, he robs me by directing his attention to the game.

  “So, why are you here, Echo?” he asks casually. “You hate the school crowd, which would lead one to believe this is a small taste of hell for you.”

  I explain about Savannah, and he laughs—with me, not at my expense.

  “What about you?” I counter. “Why are you here?”

  “Some of the blokes from uni persuaded me.” He motions with his head to the group of guys seated around his coed entourage behind us.

  “You do know this is the high-school team playing, right? I’d have guessed you guys could find something better to do, what with your being in college and the town’s hottest ticket and all.”

  “I believe we’re going to a club after the game?” Is he asking or telling me? “Savannah’s joining us, if I heard correctly. Why don’t you come, as well?”

  “Of course she is.” I shake my head. “She’s eighteen now—gotta run to the clubs first chance she gets. And not that I’d go if I could, but I’m only seventeen.”

  “Are you?” He seems surprised.

  “Last time I checked, yeah.” I mimic his wide-eyed expression playfully.

  “I didn’t realize.” His voice lowers, a slight slouch affecting his always-perfect posture. “I guess I assumed you were eighteen, since you’re a senior.”

  “Don’t throw yourself off the bleachers,” I tease. “It’s not that bad.”

  He hums a half-hearted agreement, staring off in silence.

  I elbow him, confused by his reaction. “Seriously. My prognosis is fine; being seventeen isn’t fatal. I will turn eighteen soon enough. And clubbing doesn’t appeal to me anyway. At all.”

  “Neither does anything about people your age,” he says with another chuckle.

  “That’s not entirely true. I may be shy, but you find me one person my age that says I’ve ever been unkind to them. And, hello, I’m at a ballgame!”

  “Which I can tell you’re thoroughly enjoying.”

  “About as much as I’d enjoy the club.”

  I speak the truth, but can’t ignore the tiny surge of aggravation that attempts to swell up inside me. I have absolutely no desire to go to a sweaty, loud meat market also known as a club. But for some reason, it’s annoying me that Savannah can and will be going.

  I don’t like the dark shift in my already-bad mood, so I attempt to lighten up the conversation.

  “So, is this your first American football game?”

  “It is.”

  “Don’t feel bad. Mine too.” I nudge his shoulder with my own, and finally see his somberness start to lift.

  “Really?” His reply drips with sarcasm. “Like I said before, I was surprised to see you here tonight. So that news? Not surprising at all.” I give him a bored, unimpressed look, which causes his own easy grin to transform into full-blown laughter. “I’d enjoy taking you to a rugby game one day, like we play back home. I think you’d find it much more entert
aining.”

  “Why would you possibly think that?”

  “Well, for one thing, the physicality is much more…present. We don’t wear all that padding, or helmets. In fact, I often tend to play shirtless.” He waggles his eyebrows. “And I can’t recall…” He glances up at the scoreboard, which shows a score of twenty-four to zero. “Ever taking an arse-beating like this sad showing.”

  “You play rugby?” I sound more fascinated than I’d intended, and clear my throat quickly while shifting in discomfort. “I just…I mean, that must be fun.”

  “What must be fun?”

  Clay chooses that moment to return with the hot chocolate I’d long since forgotten about.

  “Oh, Kingston was telling me how he plays rugby back home. And thank you.” I take the steaming Styrofoam cup from him.

  “Rugby,” Clay scoffs as he sits down.

  “Are you familiar with the sport?” Kingston leans across the front of me to ask. I catch a whiff of his cologne, which blends intoxicatingly well with his undeniable masculine hostility.

  “Nah. I played real football all through high school, though. Made it to the state playoffs twice in a row,” Clay replies way too arrogantly, considering Sebastian played as well and I happen to know that they lost both times.

  “Brilliant!” Kingston’s already sporting a smug grin. And here it comes. “Did you win?”

  Clay shoots Kingston a scathing look, and even I feel accosted from its intensity.

  “Oh, wow, did you see Savannah’s stunt?” I interrupt—not that either of them notice. So I sip the warm cocoa and pretend to focus on anything, even the guys running down the field, rather than the two leaning in front of me to conduct their pissing match.

  “No,” Clay replies. “Couple injuries and biased officials lost it for us. But we should’ve won.”

  Kingston nods. “Of course.”

  I sit, rigid and silent, claustrophobically trapped between them and their tangible machismo for the rest of the game. A few times, someone taps Kingston on the shoulder, or comes up to say hi to Clay. Those are the spaces in which I inhale the night air, reminding myself football games can’t possibly last forever. But I’m beginning to doubt that theory as the night drags on.

  Finally, a horn sounds, indicating the game is over. I catch Savannah’s eye before she leaves the field, and she mouths that she’ll meet me at my truck. I nod my understanding as I zip up my jacket.

  “Okay, well…this was fun.” I stand, forcing a shaky smile. “Guess I’ll see you both later.”

  “Whoa, you’re not walking to the parking lot alone.” Clay takes hold of my arm, and Kingston’s gaze hones in on the gesture. “Come on. I’ll take you.”

  I pull my arm from his grasp and scoot past Kingston to bound down the bleachers, unconcerned about who, if anyone, is following me.

  ~~~~~

  Savannah’s waiting by my truck, and she beams when I arrive.

  “What’d you think?”

  “You were great!” I smile sincerely. “The flip you did off the pyramid? Very impressive.”

  “You were paying attention!” She claps her hands, downright giddy.

  That’s what I love about Savannah: She goes above and beyond to excel where she knows her strengths are. No way could any other girl on that squad pull off half the moves she appears to have mastered.

  “Watching you during the cheers? Yeah, I paid attention.” I pull my keys from my pocket and add, “Now, watching the boys run to chase the ball down the field? Not so much.”

  Her proud grin never wavers. “Thank you, Echo. Seriously, it means a lot to me that you came tonight.”

  I’m suddenly feeling all warm and fuzzy, happy that she’s so…well, happy.

  “Y’all can hug—even kiss, if ya want,” I hear Clay say from beside me, reminding me of his seemingly never-ending presence and depraved attempts at humor.

  My elbow connects hard with his ribs. “You’re a pig!”

  Savannah giggles. “You wish, perv! So, where are you two headed?”

  “Home,” I say, twirling my key ring around my finger as Clay answers simultaneously, “Anywhere you want, birthday girl!”

  Savannah’s dreamy reply is automatic—and no surprise. “Moonlight. Definitely Moonlight. Ah,” she continues, pouting at me, “but Echo’s not old enough to get in. You know what? Never mind. We can just—”

  “No.” I hold up my hand to stop her. Sure, it stings that she’s eighteen and has more options than me, but I won’t let jealousy dampen her big birthday night. “You all go. Have a great time. It’s not my scene, regardless of my age. Just…be careful, Savannah. Baby steps.”

  The last part is a plea, because I’m honestly a bit worried. I know my friend—if she’s swimming, she’s doing a cannonball right into the deep end. She’s that way with everything.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?” she asks, but she’s already sidled up next to Clay with her arm around his waist, ready to go. “I feel bad.”

  Something tells me that’s not exactly the truth, but who can blame her? She’s of legal age now, and braver than I.

  “I’m positive. Happy birthday.”

  I open my truck door after she runs back to school to get her bag, Clay right behind her.

  It’s then that I spot Kingston, standing not so far away in the shadows. I expect to find something resembling pity in his eyes when he walks over, but see only a soft kindness. So when he says my name, I can’t very well ignore him.

  “Yeah?” I reply, leaning against my open door.

  “You want me to follow you home? I’m parked just there.”

  He points, but I can’t see his sporty little number past the beautiful, dark-blue Silverado in the way. I crane my neck, searching for the sportster I’m dying to tease him about again.

  “Just where—behind the kick-ass truck a real man is driving? You know, your car might actually fit in the bed of that beauty,” I sass, a pleased smirk on my lips.

  “I have to agree with you. It is indeed one fine truck. That’s why I bought it.” He spreads his feet apart and crosses his arms over his broad, puffed-out chest. “I’m told something called ‘off-roading’ is all the to-do around here, so I traded out that car you secretly fancied for it.”

  “You swapped out the ‘look-at-me mobile’ for a truck, to go off-roading?”

  I’m not sure my eyes can squint any more narrowly, or whether I could be more…shocked? Impressed?

  This night gets more baffling by the minute.

  “I did. I’m particularly intrigued by this off-roading activity that’s spoken of as though it’s a religion. Needed a truck for that.”

  “Mm-hmm.” I eye him suspiciously. “I’ll bet that’s why you did it.”

  His only reply is a wink before he saunters toward the beautiful machine, not a single girl anywhere near it. “See you at home, Love.”

  “I’ll be more than asleep by the time you’re done clubbing.”

  “I believe I offered to follow you home.”

  He’s actually serious about skipping the club…which, I admit, I’m particularly intrigued about.

  Chapter 10

  The next morning, I’m up before everyone—except my mom, who’s reading the paper at the kitchen table as she enjoys her coffee and the only solitude she’ll receive for the day.

  She looks up as I walk in. “Echo! How was your night? Did you have fun?”

  “Not really,” I laugh, “but I survived.” I slide into the chair across from her. “And in case you’re wondering, our football team isn’t very good this year.”

  She lowers the paper to the table, feigning relief. “I’ve been dying to know. Thanks for the update,” she jokes back with me. “I’m sure Savannah was thrilled you were there, though.”

  “Of course. She’s good, too. Wish she put in the same work for our routine as she does for cheerleading.”

  “I know, sweetie.” She tilts her head and sighs. “Her dedication isn’t
always as strong as yours, but she tries. She knows she’s the best at cheering, but the same can’t be said when following your act.”

  “Mom!”

  “What?” She fakes innocence. “In the air, you’re the star. And she knows it, too—probably now more than ever, since Sebastian isn’t here to dote on her every move.”

  I shake my head. “He wasn’t that bad. I’ve seen him critique her before.”

  “I have no doubt your brother wants to see her succeed. But he also liked having her around every day, and made sure she knew it.”

  “Well, she seems to be coping just fine.”

  My mother looks away with a frown. “I’m sure.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing, dear.”

  She lifts the paper back up, but I push it down gently.

  “Mom, you’ve been acting really weird about Savannah. What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Really, I shouldn’t have said anything.” She brushes the conversation away with a wave of her hand and tries to change the subject. “So, how are you and Kingston getting along? He’s a nice boy. Cute, too.”

  I can’t keep the scowl from my face. “Nice try. What’s going on with you and Savannah? Did she do something?”

  “Echo—”

  “Please just tell me,” I nearly beg, unable to stand the vagueness another second.

  She sighs. “I just think Sebastian deserves better than…never mind.”

  I snap my mouth shut, stunned that my sweet mother just admitted that aloud. I understand, to an extent—is anyone ever good enough in a mother’s eyes?—but she’s said all she’s going to on the topic, judging by the stern look she gives me.

  “Well, I just want Seb happy.” I stand, gladly changing the subject myself this time. “And Kingston is nice enough. As far as cute…” I shrug a shoulder nonchalantly. “I can see how some might think so.”

  My mother’s laughter follows me to the foyer. “You headed out to practice?” I nod when I return, shoes in hand. “You’re nervous.”

  “I’ve done this routine a hundred times. I’m not nervous, just not overly confident. You know what Dad always says: ‘Good, better, best. Never let it rest, until your good is better—’”