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  FILTHY FOREIGN

  EXCHANGE 2

  FILTHY FOREIGN

  EXCHANGE 2

  S.E. Hall & Angela Graham

  Copyright © 2016 S.E. Hall & Angela Graham

  All rights reserved

  Editor—Jen Haupt

  Cover Design—Sommer Stein

  Formatter—Joni Wilson

  This book may not be reproduced in any form,

  in whole or in part,

  without written permission from the author.

  This book is intended for mature audiences only.

  Contents

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Connect with S.E. Hall

  About Angela Graham

  Prologue

  “And no drinking,” Sebastian warns in a low whisper while giving me one final hug goodbye.

  I make no promises while teasing, “I’m old enough to drink in the UK, so…”

  “Echo.” He pulls back from our hug and braces his hands on my shoulders, his voice still hushed, but firm. “I didn’t spend the last month helping persuade our father—the most stubborn, overprotective man on Earth—to let you travel across the world just so you could spend that time getting drunk, or worse. So please be the smart, safe sister I trust. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  He lifts one mischievous brow and flashes me a secret grin, a recognizable twinkle in his eyes. Right then, I know I have his blessing to live it up while I backpack through Europe…just as long as I remember he did give the big-brother speech, and heed some of its warning.

  “I’ll be safe.” I smile. “And promise me you’ll tell me if Savannah or Clay come around. Or—”

  “Stop,” he cuts me off. “You worry about having enough space to stretch your legs on the flight and your wings on this journey, and I’ll worry about everything here. Deal?”

  I nod. “Deal.”

  “I mean it, Echo. We’re not just switching places, we’re switching roles. It’s my turn to stay home and worry about the parentals, Sammy, and the snakes we thought cared about us. And it’s your turn to live, little sister. Don’t let the fast-talking I had to do go to waste. Go live.”

  “I will.” I give a curt head bob, bound and determined to follow through with the promise I’d made both to Sebastian and myself, then look over at the rest of my family.

  I’d already spent a good hour saying bittersweet farewells to my parents and Sammy, who are standing back a few feet, watching. My mom’s eyes are still red from earlier tears, but hold not a hint of sadness. Now, they’re filled only with a bright sense of pride, mixed with a slight hint of fear she’s failing at hiding.

  And my father’s expression is tender, full of nothing but confident love. While shocking, it’s also invigorating and empowering…because if he’s not worried or nervous, how could I possibly be? I still have no idea how my mom and Sebastian persuaded him to let me leave, but I know I’ll be forever grateful.

  “I love you, and I swear I’ll check in as often as I can,” I tell my parents before taking my bag from Sebastian.

  As I’m getting ready to make my way toward the security line, Sebastian delivers one final, startling message.

  “Kingston’s not all that bad, Echo. Everyone screws up sometimes, but sometimes they don’t. Just like sometimes you think you know a person, and it turns out you were wrong…or maybe you were right all along.”

  His words are spoken in enough circles to make me dizzy. Where did all that come from—and why choose right now, when I’m literally about to step on a plane, to say it?

  I haven’t heard Kingston’s name in over six months. And notwithstanding my birthday flowers and a card for my high-school graduation, I’d convinced myself that he’d fallen off my radar, or me his. Not to mention, I was told he wouldn’t be a part of this summer trip.

  So why my brother is choosing now to spout off riddles—words that had the potential to be insightful, had he spoken them in anything close to plain English—about him, I’m not sure.

  Or happy about it.

  “What?” is all I can manage in reply, my face twisted in confusion.

  Sebastian laughs at the scowl I know I wear, shrugging. “Just something to keep in mind.”

  “Echo, you better get in line,” my mom says, and I wonder whether she heard the final, impromptu conversation between my brother and me. “Your flight leaves in less than an hour, honey.”

  “Okay,” I say. I look at her, then jerk my head back to Sebastian. “Have you talked to him? Will I see him? I don’t want to!” I hiss.

  He smiles. “You’re just gonna have to trust me. Now go have fun, and see if you can bring Sammy back a better souvenir than I did. I suck at shopping.” He squeezes my hand. “Love ya.”

  He’s backing away as the growing security line reaches me, the carry-ons of impatient travelers hitting my legs.

  “Have fun!” Sammy calls out.

  I wave and turn to join the line, convincing myself that my father never would’ve allowed this trip if Kingston was going to be a part of it. Gerard Hawthorne and my dad have become friends, and there’s trust there…but not that much.

  Maybe my brother was simply throwing out words for just-in-case situations, but it wasn’t normal advice. Sebastian had spoken in his best attempt at philosophical, vouching for Kingston’s character. I know my brother, and he wouldn’t just guess at something like that—especially after what we’d been through, with the two “friends” whose characters we thought we knew.

  Had he talked to Kingston? When? Had they seen each other when Kingston returned to London?

  So many unanswered questions spin dazedly through my head as I pull out my boarding pass and ID, handing them over to be checked with a twinge of nervous anticipation.

  Who am I kidding? Per my usual, I’m building things up in my mind to be much bigger than they really are—a habit I’m determined to spend this summer breaking. Kingston and I spent barely two months living next to each other, and we rarely spoke for half that time. Who cares if I see him? No way was our short slice of time together anything meaningful to him.

  I toss my bag on the conveyor belt and finally allow myself a relaxed smile. My future is all about exploring the world, and Kingston Hawthorne is nothing but a brief part of the past.

  Chapter 1

  I wake with a startled gasp, the plane’s drop in altitude setting off that classic rollover in my stomach as we begin our descent into Heathrow.

  With a silent yawn, I smile, relieved that the sleeping pills I now take nightly proved worthwhile on my first international flight. Slept like a baby the whole time.

  “More like the dead, if you ask me.”

  My head jerks to the left, past the vacant center seat and at the guy sitting on the end of our row, who’s looking at me. Had I said that last part out loud?

  “Excuse me?” I purposely ask aloud now.

  “We hit some pretty violent turbulence a couple hours back, and you didn’t even budge. If not for your snoring, I’d have been concerned.” He smiles, then returns his attention to the movie
playing in front of him.

  “I don’t snore,” I argue, watching his lip quirk up. “And don’t you need headphones to hear the movie?”

  “Nah, your snoring was cute. Didn’t want to miss it.” He glances at me, grinning, while my cheeks heat up.

  “Seriously, no one has ever told me I snore before, so I call bullshit. I think you were just imagining it.” I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, noticing my voice is friendlier than I’d expected it to be. Am I flirting?

  I drop my gaze quickly, suddenly unsure of myself—not to mention how, if I was flirting, to continue doing so.

  The guy looks to be around my age. He has a warm, inviting smile—and from what I can tell with him sitting down, an All-American-football-star body. His broad shoulders go past the confines of his seat, and his T-shirt sleeves are struggling to contain his biceps. He’s a bit intimidating at first glance, but there’s also something sweet about him.

  So, yeah, maybe I was flirting…a little. Which now makes me realize I actually care if he’s telling the truth. Since when do I snore? Is it a possible side effect of the sleeping pills?

  His answer holds that sweet playfulness I’d been just contemplating.

  “Maybe they didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

  I actually giggle, for the briefest second. “But you don’t have a problem with that?”

  “Apparently not. Being strangers and all makes it easier.”

  “I can see the logic there. Well, I’m Echo…no longer a stranger.”

  I almost let my mind wander back to the last time I met a “stranger”—and the husky, suggestive words he whispered in the dark—but shake off the thought immediately.

  “So,” I say, clearing my throat to refocus, “feel free to spare me any other humiliating observations.”

  “Echo,” he repeats, his eyes sparkling. “Unique name…I like it. So, does that mean I probably shouldn’t mention the little snorts I heard too?”

  He laughs—no doubt because my entire face just went slack.

  “Kidding.” He throws up his hands. “And the snoring was barely noticeable, but like I said, definitely cute.”

  “Um…thanks,” I mumble, my expression tight with flattered embarrassment. “So, have you got a name?”

  He opens his mouth to reply just as the tires of the plane touch the ground. I grip the arms of my seat instinctually but look out the window, refusing to miss my first non-aerial view of where I am now, London. Kingston’s stomping ground.

  My heart seizes at the thought—the second one I’ve had of him in the span of just a few minutes.

  “Patton.”

  I hear the husky reply, and turn back to the cute guy I’d so easily forgotten while thinking about Kingston and the possibility of seeing him. Not okay.

  “Patton Jennings. It’s nice to meet you, Echo.”

  He holds out his hand, his thick arm so long he doesn’t even have to stretch across the empty seat. And unlike Kingston, he keeps his lips to himself and simply shakes my hand when I place it in his.

  “Nice to meet you, too.” I begin to collect my stuff from under the seat as we taxi to a stop, anxious for some fresh air. “Hope you have a good trip.”

  “You too. Is this your first time in Europe?”

  “Yeah. You?”

  “I’ve been once before with my parents, but I was only twelve. This time is gonna be much different,” he says with an excited edge to his voice as we sit and wait to deplane.

  When the door opens and the line begins to move, he turns to me again, this time with something playing on his brow.

  “I know this might be strange, but…if you’re gonna be in town for a while, maybe I could see you again?”

  “Oh, um…” I shift my gaze downward, suddenly fascinated with wrapping my earbuds’ cord exactly right. “Thanks, but I’m not staying in London long, and I’m just here to have some fun.”

  “And you don’t think I’d be fun?” He chuckles. “Ouch.”

  “What?” My eyes snap up to his. “No, I didn’t mean—”

  “I get it.” He’s smiling as a spot in the aisle opens up for him. “It’s been a pleasure, Echo.”

  I remain awkwardly silent, pretending he’s not right in front of me as we slowly make our way off the plane and through the tunnel, disappearing into the women’s restroom as soon as I enter the airport.

  ~~~~~

  I quickly brush my teeth—a must after any long nap. And since I’ve been growing my hair out, I take a moment to run a brush through it.

  I’m finally getting used to my new look. It’s different, just like me, and has absolutely nothing to do with a certain someone once wondering aloud what my hair would look like longer. I couldn’t practice much with my broken arm anyway, so I figured why not?

  Besides, once my cast was removed, my hair had already passed the awkward stage and would stay tucked behind my ears, so I decided to just keep it. And now that it’s at my shoulders and able to go up into a ponytail, there’s no sense in rushing to cut it off again.

  At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself.

  I make my way to the baggage claim, and spot Patton there as well. Still feeling uncomfortable, unsure whether I’d insulted him, I play it safe and stand far to the opposite side, hiding behind a large family until I spot my backpack. It’s hard to miss: a huge, camo-green monstrosity more than capable of holding all the essentials I’ll need for the next three weeks.

  It’s ugly as sin. But I love it, because my father went and picked it out from a hunting-supply company for me all on his own.

  I snatch it off the conveyor belt as quickly as possible considering it may weigh more than me, and head to the main exit exactly as I’d been instructed to do in the literature I’d received.

  As soon as I spot my name among the many signs being held up, I start my approach toward the man and realize he’s holding a second sign in his other hand. I swallow, unsure if I’m reading it correctly.

  That’s a lie. I know how to read…I’m just unsure how to handle this startling new information—and myself.

  “Looks like we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other, Echo,” Patton says. He’s now at my side, since it’s his name on the other sign. “Hope I’m fun enough for ya.”

  He strides past me and I have no choice but to follow, feeling like a complete ass as we head to the waiting limo. The driver introduces himself and welcomes us, then opens the door with a slight bow and informs us we’re waiting for another group of fellow backpackers to land.

  It’s muggy inside the car, and awkward as hell sitting across from each other. So I’m relieved to see Patton fidgeting with the controls to get some air flowing, his eyes off me. I divert mine as well, staring at my phone I dig out.

  Me: Just landed. Can’t really call. No privacy. But tell Mom and Dad I’m in the limo.

  Seb: A limo? Damn, all I got was a town car! Here I thought Gerard liked me best.

  Me: I’m guessing it’s because there’s a group of us?

  Seb: Gotta be it. Are you getting along with everyone so far?

  I peek up at Patton. His body is tense, and curved toward the window…which is darkly tinted even from the inside, so he’s not fooling anyone by pretending to look out of it.

  Me: You know me. Always the life of the party.

  Seb: LMAO. Right. Well, we love ya. Glad you made it safe.

  Me: Love you all too. TTYL.

  After I tuck my phone back into my pocket, I look up, deciding it’s best to try and break the tension sooner rather than later.

  “So, you’re on the trip too,” I say, shooting for friendly but hitting blatantly obvious and consequently sounding like an absolute moron.

  “I’m in the same car as you, so what do you think?”

  He tries to give me a sarcastic sneer, but he just can’t; guilt quickly overtaking his expression. He lets out a big sigh as he pours himself a glass of water from the fanciest bottle I’ve ever seen, then star
es out the window again. Still heavily tinted.

  “Look,” I say, matching his sigh, “I’m sorry if I was rude before. I was nervous. I’ve never traveled alone, and I don’t really know you, so the whole stranger-danger bells were going off for me. It’s kinda oxymoronic, I know. Why come to a new place if you don’t want to meet new people? And I do, it just…takes me a while to get comfortable. I hope you let me make up for it. I really don’t want things to be weird between us.”

  “Echo.” He stares at me and scoots forward on his seat. “We’re fine, really. I took a shot and you’re not interested, but you can’t blame a guy for being disappointed. It’s all good. I’m done pouting.

  “Now tell me,” he continues, smiling sincerely, “where are you from, and what was your essay about? If you don’t mind sharing.”

  “No, not at all.” I stifle the big breath of relief I so badly want to let out. “I’m from Kelly Springs—”

  “Small-town girl, huh?” he interrupts.

  “You know it?” I sound as surprised as I feel.

  “Yup, about two hours north of me. They have a pretty impressive aerialist show there.”

  That perks me right up. “Have you seen it—the show?”

  “Sure. A couple times, actually, with my family. You’ve been, I assume?”

  “I, uh…my family runs it. I’m Echo Kelly.”

  “No shit?” He looks impressed. “I mean, I saw your name on the card the driver was holding, but never would’ve thought of it until you said what town you were from. Guess it really is a small world after all.” He shakes his head, still seeming stunned. “Do you perform?”

  “Yeah, pretty much since I’ve been old enough to remember. Or climb.” I laugh.

  “Very cool. Guess that’s why we ended up on the same plane—probably the connecting flight, too. Hey, so you must know the girl with the really short hair that does the spinning hoop thing? I saw her perform about a year and a half ago, and still catch myself thinking about her from time to time. She was born to be up there.”