“I’m so jealous.”
I grinned. “Whatever. You’re probably hanging out with all the frat guys at Carolina.”
“Okay, yeah, maybe I’ve been to a few parties.”
Jo was my oldest and closest friend. We met in the fifth grade when her mom forgot to pack her a lunch and I shared my pretzels with her. From that lunch we hit it off, despite the fact that we were an odd pairing. While I spent most of high school studying and focusing on Harvard, Jo spent her high school years partying with the football team.
“So how are the guys? Any hot British guys?”
I grinned. Trust Jo to get to the good stuff. “I did meet one.”
“Spill.”
I filled Jo in on the Hugh story, not in the least surprised by her excited squeals.
“Are you going to go to his bar?”
I hadn’t really thought about it. After everything that happened that night, Hugh hadn’t exactly been at the forefront of my mind.
“I don’t know.”
“Have you met anyone else? Have you kissed anyone yet?”
I blushed, grateful she couldn’t see my face. “Sort of.”
Jo shrieked into the phone. “Oh, my god, Maggie. I can’t believe I missed your first kiss. I need details on these things.”
I laughed. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ve been a bad friend. I should have called you instantly and filled you in.”
“Well, you can make it up to me now. Spill. Now.”
There was no way to tell the story and not come across looking like a bit of a ho.
“It’s not what you think. The guy is kind of an ass.”
“So why did you kiss him?”
“It just sort of happened. I don’t know. We were both drinking a lot, and then we were dancing, and we kissed. It was just a random, one-time thing.”
“Was it good?”
I hesitated. So good I couldn’t stop thinking about it. “Yeah, it was.”
“Are you going to do it again?”
Only in the strangely erotic dreams I couldn’t seem to shake.
“Nope.”
There was a pause on the end of the line.
I sighed. “Fine. What?”
“I’m not saying anything.”
“I know you aren’t. I’ve also known you long enough to know that means something. So spill.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way—”
I laughed. “Well, that’s an encouraging start.”
“I just want you to be happy.”
“I am happy.”
“You do realize that making out with a random guy is the first spontaneous thing I’ve probably ever seen you do.”
“That’s not fair,” I protested. “I came to London. What was that if not spontaneous?”
“Okay, fine. You’re right. You going to London was a little spontaneous. But you have to admit, you weren’t really going outside of your comfort zone. You’ve been talking about London since we were kids.”
“And drunkenly making out with a random guy is now your definition of spontaneity?”
“For you? Yes.”
Silence filled the line. I thought back to the dreams I’d been having since the night Samir and I kissed at Babel. This shit was way more complicated than I expected it to be. “I don’t know how to handle him. He’s way out of my league.”
“Try.”
“And he’s dating my roommate.”
“YOU KISSED YOUR ROOMMATE’S BOYFRIEND?”
I winced. “Thanks, Jo. I don’t think they heard you in Lithuania. He kissed me. But yeah, pretty much. And she’s an überbitch, so I’m just waiting for this to get out and her to kill me. Not to mention the fact that I’ve probably broken like fifty girl codes.”
Jo sighed. “Oh, Mags. When you go in, you go all in.”
“Tell me about it.”
* * *
“So what’s on the agenda for tonight?” Mya leaned back in her chair, pushing a half-eaten plate of food away.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Want to watch a movie or something? I should probably get started on homework.”
Mya frowned at me. “It’s Friday night. We just got through our first week of school. We’re not staying in and watching a movie. And homework is definitely out of the question. My brain needs a break.” Her eyes lit up. “Let’s go to Cobalt.”
Apparently filling her in on meetin Hugh had been a mistake. “Absolutely not. No way.”
“Why not? You said you liked the guy. The least you could do is check out his bar.”
The idea of seeing Hugh again sent a little thrill down my spine. And a wave of nausea in my stomach. Showing up at Hugh’s bar required balls I just didn’t have.
“I don’t have anything to wear,” I bluffed.
“You can wear one of my dresses.”
I shot her a dubious expression. Mya was five-nine and built like a gazelle. I was more of the pony variety. I pushed the food around my plate. “I don’t know what to say to him. I feel silly just showing up.”
She rolled her eyes. “He wouldn’t have invited you if he wasn’t interested.”
“I can’t just go to some bar. What if we don’t get in?”
“Get in where?”
I turned around, surprised by the sound of Fleur’s voice. She stood over the table, her long hair pulled back in a high ponytail. She was dressed in workout clothes—a hot-pink stretchy top and fitted black pants. Trust Fleur to make going to the gym a fashion show.
“To this bar in Chelsea,” Mya answered, ignoring my dirty looks. “Cobalt. Have you heard of it?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, it’s a decent place. Who is going?”
“Me and Maggie.”
“We haven’t decided yet,” I corrected. As much as I didn’t want to go to Cobalt, I really didn’t want to go to Cobalt with Fleur.
Fleur sat down in the chair opposite mine, not bothering to wait for an invitation to join us. “Why Cobalt?”
She posed the question to Mya, ignoring me.
I shot Mya a look.
“Maggie met a guy at Babel. He owns Cobalt and invited her to stop in to say hi.” Mya wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
Fleur’s gaze shifted to me, lingering on my face. Her eyes narrowed for a moment—I had no idea what she saw there but I couldn’t help but feel I’d been judged and found wanting.
“What are you going to wear?” There was just a hint of scorn in her voice.
“She’s going to borrow one of my dresses,” Mya volunteered. Her eyes lit up. “Why don’t you do her hair and makeup?”
Fleur shrugged. “Why not? I don’t have any plans tonight anyway.” Her voice trailed off and a frown crossed her face.
A boy, the likes of which I had only seen in movies, strolled in with a stunning brunette tucked against his side. He had similar coloring to Fleur’s, his dark hair and eyes suggesting some Greek or Italian heritage. For a moment his gaze traveled over the table, before it stopped, lingering on Fleur.
She stiffened, ducking her gaze. She pushed back from the table.
What was that about?
“Fine, we’ll meet at nine.”
I blinked. Did Fleur actually just make a plan to hang out with me? Part of me wanted to go. Part of me was still scared. Hugh had been cute—and he’d seemed a little interested in me. I didn’t want to spend my college years single. Besides Jo had a point. I needed to be more spontaneous, needed to put myself out there more. I did not need to focus on a certain kiss I couldn’t get out of my mind.
“Fine. But no guys, okay?”
Fleur nodded, her voice sounding relieved. “It’ll be a girls’ night.”
She left, leaving me and Mya sitting alone at the table.
“What was that about?”
Mya shrugged. “She hasn’t been herself lately. I think she’s mellowing a bit.”
I gaped at her. “You mean this is Fleur, less bitchy?”
“Less high-strung, at least,” Mya s
aid with a smile.
I jerked my head toward where the Italian/Greek guy sat with the bombshell. “What was the deal with that? Who is he?”
Mya frowned. “Fleur’s ex, Costa.”
“Was that the guy she dated before Samir?”
Mya laughed. “They’re not a couple.”
Everything stopped. “What do you mean they’re not a couple?”
“Fleur and Samir? Not even kind of.”
“But they’re always together,” I sputtered.
Now that I thought about it, I’d never seen them kiss or anything. And Samir didn’t really look at Fleur like that. But I’d just assumed…
“They’re friends. Besides, Samir’s kind of a player. I don’t think he does girlfriends. He kind of has bad idea written all over him.”
I’d noticed. Too bad my body hadn’t gotten the memo.
* * *
I waited for Fleur and Mya on the front steps. I was beyond nervous. I didn’t do things like this—chase after a guy. At least the old version of me didn’t. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the new me. She seemed a little reckless.
“Hot date?”
My head jerked up as my stomach did a somersault. I knew that voice.
Samir stood in front of me, dressed in a collared dress shirt and jeans. A flush spread across my cheeks.
“Maggie?”
“Hi.” It came out as a squeak.
Was it my imagination or did his gaze sweep over my body, lingering on my boobs? I crossed my arms over my chest.
He grinned. “You look good.”
So do you.
“Thanks.”
“On your way out?”
“Girls’ night with Fleur and Mya.”
His smile widened. “So you and Fleur made peace?”
I laughed. “I wouldn’t say we made peace. That might be overly optimistic.”
“You’d be surprised. She’s not so bad. It just takes her awhile to warm up to people.”
That seemed like the understatement of the year, but I let it slide. I still couldn’t get past the fact that they weren’t dating.
Samir shoved his hands in his front jeans pockets, a flash of tan skin showing at the motion. My gaze was riveted to the spot. My fingers itched to reach out and touch him there. I fisted my hands on my hips.
“So are we going to talk about it?”
I jerked my head up. A knowing smile spread across Samir’s lips. An awkward tension filled the air between us. It was strange to think that on one hand we’d been more intimate than I’d ever been with anyone and yet he still felt like a total stranger.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I bluffed.
He quirked a brow at me, his head tilted to the side, his expression considering. “So that’s how you’re going to play it?”
“Pretty much.”
I knew I was the polar opposite of smooth, but I didn’t know what to say to him.
Samir grinned. “Fine. I have my memories to keep me company.” He winked at me. “And believe me, I have plenty of good memories.”
I reached out and shoved him, the move reflexive, my hand fisting the expensive fabric of his shirt. I froze mid-motion, my hand clutching the fabric, half-pulling him towards me, half-pushing him away.
Samir’s voice deepened, grew seductive. “Why won’t you admit you want me? It was pretty obvious when your body was wrapped around mine.”
I flushed. “My body was never wrapped around yours,” I snapped, releasing my hold on his shirt. “It was a one-time, stupid, drunken thing. It’ll never happen again.”
“Sure it won’t,” Samir mocked.
Another worry clicked into my brain. “You haven’t told anyone, have you?”
His dimple flashed at me. “Told anyone about what?”
He was utterly impossible. “You know what I’m talking about.”
He tossed me a knowing smile. “I thought you didn’t remember. You might have to refresh my memory. A lot happened at Babel.”
“The kiss, you ass,” I hissed, careful to keep my voice low. That seemed like the safest way to describe it.
This time he flashed me a full-on grin. “I seem to remember a lot more than just a kiss happening. I seem to remember exploring you with my hands, tasting you, your body pressed up against the wall—”
“Did you tell anyone?” I bit out, cutting off his little monologue.
He paused, lingering over his answer. “Not yet.” He took a few steps forward, closing the distance between us. Something tumbled in my chest. His lips brushed against my cheek, pressing a swift kiss there. Just as he’d done at Babel before we’d parted ways.
I stood frozen, too surprised to move.
“See you around, Maggie.”
I stood on the steps, watching him walk away, hating the part of me that wished I were going with him.
Chapter 8
Walking into Cobalt I was struck by three things. First, as tacky as it sounded (and I only said it in my head), if Hugh really did own this place, he was loaded. Loaded in a very adult sort of way, in which I definitely didn’t fit. Two, I had no idea what I would even say to Hugh when I saw him. And finally, whatever else happened tonight, this “girls’ night” was something I never could have predicted.
I wouldn’t have gone as far to say Fleur was nice. She was less bitchy than expected, grudgingly accepting my presence because Mya wanted me there. I was just lucky Mya decided to take me under her wing. The fashion and makeup advice alone were life changing.
My long brown hair was the straightest it had ever been. They’d sprayed something in it that made it shinier than ever and my makeup was flawless. Clothing had been a bit of a challenge, since Mya was definitely a few inches taller. Luckily I was wearing something called a bandage dress that must have barely covered Mya’s mile-long legs, since even on me it felt ridiculously short. The color was a shocking red. Thanks to their help and the glass of wine they plied me with back in our room, I felt as good about myself as I ever would.
Samir’s reaction hadn’t hurt, either.
Fleur led us to a small table in the corner. She sat down first, crossing her legs. “Do you see him?”
I scanned the room. The decor was sleek and modern, the bar filled with well-dressed people, the majority of whom looked several years older than us. I shook my head.
“What’s his name?”
I hesitated, not sure I trusted her with anything. “Hugh.”
Slowly, whatever confidence the dress and wine inspired fizzled. If I looked my best, it didn’t really matter. There were at least twenty girls who looked better. There were exotic girls, girls dressed as if they’d stepped off a runway or from the pages of a fashion magazine. Girls with eye-popping jewelry and designer bags.
Mya leaned toward me. “Are you okay?”
I laughed shakily, the backflips in my stomach starting up again. “This was a stupid idea. He probably won’t remember me. Let’s just go somewhere else.”
Fleur frowned. “I’m not leaving,” she protested. “We just got here.”
“What’s up?” Mya asked. “You seemed excited on the way here.”
“I didn’t know what all the girls would look like on the way here.”
Fleur arched a brow. “It’s London.”
“I was talking to Mya,” I snapped.
Fleur shrugged, completely nonplussed by my angry face. “It’s London,” she repeated, her French accent creeping in. “There will always be girls. There will always be beautiful girls. You can either stay in and lament that fact, or you can go out and be one of the beautiful girls.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
Fleur ignored me, signaling to a waiter. “London is all about perception. Nothing else matters here. Some of the most beautiful girls in town won’t be able to make it on the club scene. Here pretty looks are meaningless. It’s what you make of your looks that counts. With the right attitude you can have any guy you want. You just hav
e to play your cards right.” The waiter hovered near her side. “Now, what was the guy’s name?”
I gaped at her. It was strange to think she’d just given me something akin to advice. That I was inclined to take it was even stranger.
“Hugh. His name is Hugh,” I repeated.
Fleur turned to the waiter, a beaming smile on her face. “Is Hugh here?”
I had never seen her smile. She perpetually wore the same sulky expression on her face and it worked for her. She was so pretty she didn’t need to smile. But when she did? Her smile was dazzling.
The waiter nodded, clearly speechless.
“Excellent. Will you tell him Maggie from Babel is here to see him?”
The waiter scurried off to do her bidding.
My heart pounded madly in my chest. “We didn’t order drinks,” I protested, desperately needing liquid courage.
Mya grinned. “I don’t think we’re going to need to.”
* * *
The waiter came back with a bottle of champagne and three glasses. Fleur nodded her approval before turning her attention to a group of guys at the table opposite ours. My gaze darted back and forth around the room. I didn’t see any sign of Hugh.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have bothered him on a busy night.”
Fleur rolled her eyes. “If you’re going to keep complaining, I’m going to leave you and go sit with those guys. Stop freaking out. He sent over a very nice bottle of champagne. He’s interested. This is just all part of the game.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know how the game is played.”
Fleur sighed; a wonderfully Gallic shrug accompanied the noise. “Let me guess. You’ve never had a boyfriend?”
“I’ve been busy,” I shot back defensively. “Focusing on school. Getting into a good college.” Trying to get into Harvard. “I didn’t exactly have time for boys and parties.”
“What a little saint you are.” Fleur’s tone was mocking. “And yet you’re here. So a part of you doesn’t just want to stay at home doing homework on the weekends.”
She had a point.
“Okay, fine. What do you suggest?”
“Flirt. Make eye contact. If you get nervous, ask him questions about himself. Guys love talking about themselves. You can make a whole date go by, saying practically nothing at all.”
I See London Page 5
