Passionate Exchange

Chapter One

I step out into the crowd of people waiting for their flights, my nerves hitting me in waves, and gape at everything around me. I can't believe I'm actually in Portland. Being an antisocial girl from London, I never imagined I would be staying here at seventeen.

My thoughts are cut off by something colliding with me, actually, make that someone. "Watch it." A man in a crisp-looking suit spits. I stumble backwards slightly but manage to regain my balance. He hoists his backpack back onto his shoulder before stomping off, not sparing me another glance. With a huff, I narrow my eyes at his retreating form.

I roll my eyes as he goes out of sight, but it doesn't take me long to get lost in my thoughts again. My dad suggested, just before my last year of school, that I should apply to be a part of the exchange programme. I thought he was out of his mind. Why would I want to go to another country to do things I can already do at home? He went on and on about how I was missing opportunities. His exact words were "these are the best years of your life and you're wasting them." Of course, I was offended at first. There's nothing wrong with not leaping at the thought of a party or bubbling with excitement when a boy spared me a longer glance than usual.

After a while, I started to see what he meant. I spent most of my time at home and when I wasn't there I was at school. This realisation was how I ended up alone at an airport ten hours away from home, only minutes away from meeting, Penny, the girl I'll be living with for the next year.

"Heritage booksellers," I repeat these words as my eyes wander around the terminal shops in search of the place we agreed to meet at.

Once I find it, I drag my suitcase behind me and anxiously make my way over. My palms grow sweatier by the second meaning I have to readjust my grip on the handle. Once I'm close enough, I notice that she isn't where she said she would be. She must be running late.

The only other person standing outside of the store is a boy who appears to be around my age. He's staring into the distance blankly. I know I should be looking at the entrance for her to show up, but he keeps distracting me. It's his fault, not mine.

It's not his attractiveness or his mysterious demeanour that catches my attention, it's the tattoo that snakes up his right arm. There are three black butterflies dotted around his bicep. The lack of colour suits him. I wonder if they have a meaning behind them.

I shake the thought out of my head and rip my eyes away from him. If I stare at him for any longer, he's going to notice. Instead of shuffling my feet awkwardly waiting for Penny, I decide to head outside.

Only I don't make it very far as someone grips my wrist, holding me in place. I whirl around in shock, my eyes widening when I notice the butterflies imprinted on their arm.

"Madison, right?" He asks. His American accent still manages to take me by surprise. My eyebrows furrow involuntarily. How does this guy know my name and why does he think it's okay to touch me?

"Um," I pull my arm out of his grasp and step back slightly. "Yeah," I trail off. He seems satisfied with my answer which causes my confusion to grow. I look around for any sign as to what's going on and then back to him. "How do you know me?" Nothing about him seems familiar. I think I'd remember if I'd met him before.

The only reasonable explanation for this is that he's mistaken me for someone else. Someone else whose name is also Madison... "She was supposed to tell you." He mutters to himself with an eye roll.

"Who was supposed to tell me?"

He groans in frustration. I get the feeling that he doesn't want to be here right now. "My sister, Penny. The one you're supposed to be meeting here." He states as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.