“I don’t think you should take it personally. He’s just shy.”
“I guess. But I said hi. It wasn’t a big deal. How hard would it have been for him to say hi back?”
Given Fleur’s reputation? I tried to be diplomatic. “I think you may intimidate him.”
Fleur rolled her eyes. “Not that Ice Queen shit again.”
“He may have mentioned it once or twice.”
“I’m so sick of that stupid nickname. And the asshole who gave it to me,” she muttered.
“And who was that?”
Fleur scowled at me. “Someone not worth talking about.”
“It was well-earned,” Michael teased.
I shot him a look. After everything Fleur had been through last year, I was scared of anything that might send her into a rebound. I alternated between wanting to treat her with care and trying to act like everything was normal. She wouldn’t really talk about what had happened—about me finding her on the floor surrounded by pills—but she seemed better. I still couldn’t get the image of her lifeless body out of my mind.
“I’m not an ice queen.” The hurt in Fleur’s voice surprised me.
“I know you’re not,” I answered. “But maybe you should try letting everyone else see that, too.”
“So what, I’m supposed to smile at everyone and start talking about my feelings all the time? I’m not that girl.”
“Tell me about it,” Michael joked under his breath. I elbowed him. “What? She’s not. We all know it.”
“You’re fine. Exactly as you are.” I was probably the last person who should be giving romantic advice, but I couldn’t resist. I’d seen her struggles with Costa firsthand—I desperately wanted her to find a nice guy. One who didn’t fuck around with her heart.
“Find a guy who doesn’t want to change you. A guy who loves you when you’re bitchy. We love you when you’re bitchy—mostly. The right guy will, too.”
Fleur made it hard for people to get close to her. There was the public version she gave the world—the girl who kept a tight circle of friends, wasn’t accepting of new people and appeared to glide through life, looking down on us mere mortals. Then there was the private Fleur—the friend I’d gotten to know and love—who was fiercely loyal and protective. The girl who made you laugh and could show you the time of your life.
She was quiet for a moment. “Maybe I’ll see if George wants to grab coffee or something. I never did thank him for bringing me those flowers.”
George was one of the sweetest guys I’d met in London. But I also knew Fleur. She was my best friend and I loved her to death, but she was still a bit of a mess. George wasn’t exactly the kind of guy you practiced on.
“Be careful with him, Fleur. He’s a nice guy.”
A flash of hurt crossed her face. “And what? You think I can’t handle a nice guy?”
“No. I think you need a nice guy more than anything. But George has had a crush on you for a while now, and he’s my friend, too. I don’t want to see him get hurt.” I knew firsthand how it felt to want someone you knew was out of your league, how much it hurt when they didn’t want you back. “Just be careful. Please.”
CHAPTER SIX
Maggie
WE CELEBRATED THE END of the first week of school by heading out to a bar in Soho that Fleur had been dying to go to. I dressed casually in a pair of skinny jeans and heels paired with a red halter top. I didn’t put too much thought into my outfit because it was supposed to be just the girls. Until Fleur invited Samir and Michael along.
If this continued, I was really going to have to find new friends.
It was already 11:00 p.m. when we arrived and crammed into one of the few tables left, my body squished in between Mya and Michael. Fleur and Samir sat opposite us.
The bar was pretty low-key, just on the edge between trendy and seedy, situated next to a sex shop with a very interesting window display. We didn’t come to this part of town a lot, but for some reason, the change fit my mood. Less baggage going to new places.
It had been a weird week. School was great. I had some of the same professors from last year for my IR classes, and thankfully I was almost done with my pre-requisites. Next year I would be able to completely focus on taking courses for my major.
I loved having Mya and Fleur as roommates, and being back in London was amazing. But I couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. It wasn’t hard to figure out what that “something” was. I’d been avoiding Samir and I blamed the five days since I’d last seen him for the fact that I couldn’t take my eyes off of him or stop thinking about how good he looked, sitting there across from me.
He looked like he hadn’t shaved in days. His face was covered in sexy stubble that made him look way hotter than I was ready to handle. With his dark skin, he looked amazing. Edible.
Mya nudged me. “You okay tonight?”
“Yeah. Just thinking.”
“You seem quieter than normal.”
My cheeks heated. “I’m fine.” Somehow I managed a smile. “I’m a little tired.”
It was awkward as hell pretending things were normal between me and Samir. I didn’t want to have to look at him, was afraid I still couldn’t without wearing my emotions on my face. I kept thinking if I just waited, if time passed, one day I would see him and not feel like I was at the peak of a roller coaster¸ my body poised to hurtle to the ground.
They said time healed all wounds. Or something like that. But then I saw him, and suddenly time didn’t matter anymore.
“Want to dance?”
My head jerked up.
“Want to dance?” Samir repeated.
I waited to see if anyone would notice. But Fleur and Michael were deep in conversation about something, and Mya was playing with her phone.
Dancing seemed like the worst idea I could think of. I could barely stand to look at him. How was I supposed to handle being in his arms, my body pressed up against his? How was I supposed to pretend I didn’t want more than a dance? Being close to him was dangerous for my sanity. For my heart.
But I never could resist him.
I rose from the table and took the hand he extended.
Samir
I LED HER to the small dance floor, her hand clutched in mine.
I didn’t feel like dancing. It was, if anything, a pathetic excuse for me to touch her. If everything weren’t so fucked up, I would have laughed. How many times had I barely crooked my finger and girls had landed in my bed? Getting laid had never been a challenge for me. Here I was, not getting laid, trying to avoid it, in fact, yet desperate to hold a girl’s hand. Maggie’s hand.
I pulled her against my body, wrapping my arm around her waist. She was flush against me and I was hard and I knew she knew and I didn’t care.
I needed this. Just for a moment. Just a dance.
She didn’t speak, which was fine with me. Talking seemed to complicate things with us. Everything I tried to say either stuck in my throat or came out wrong. I was scared to speak at all, worried I would only make things worse.
For now, I had her exactly where I wanted her, her gorgeous body pressed up against mine, and I couldn’t resist the urge to move my fingers a little higher, up from her waist to the bare skin exposed by her top’s open back. Her skin was warm beneath my touch, silky smooth under my fingers.
For a moment, I imagined it was just the two of us. That I could reach up and untie the strings at her neck, pulling her top down, baring those gorgeous tits to my eyes and hands and lips. I wanted to cup them, run my fingers and lips all over her nipples. I wanted to taste her in my mouth, to drown in her scent.
Maggie shot me a strange look.
I coughed, wondering if she’d caught me staring at her, struggling to put the image of her naked body out of my mind. “Sorry.”
The song ended, but I didn’t release her. Another song started up and I couldn’t resist keeping her in my arms, maneuvering her out of sight of our friends. I was stealing time
with her, minute by minute, trying to borrow a future we could never have.
“I didn’t see much of you this week.” I didn’t add the rest of it—I missed you.
For a moment, she looked embarrassed. Then she shrugged. Did she know how often she did that now? My lips twitched. Somehow she seemed to have picked up my shrug.
“I was kind of avoiding you.”
“Avoiding me?”
She nodded.
“I thought we were doing the friends thing.”
She met my gaze and held it for a moment. “I don’t know how to be your friend.”
“We were friends before...” I thought of all the times we’d kissed, from that first night at Babel to our trip to Italy. I thought about our “kissing lessons” and playing strip rummy in Paris. Of all the times I’d wanted her, all the times I’d been desperate to have her. Okay, so we’d been friends who kissed. I might have wanted her in my bed from the beginning, but still, I hadn’t acted on it. That had to count for something. “Sort of,” I finished up lamely.
Her lips quirked. “Sort of.”
Those two words perfectly summed up the ambiguity of our relationship...or whatever it was.
“I want to be your friend.” Besides Fleur—and she didn’t totally count, since she was family—I didn’t exactly have female friends. But I wanted to be friends with Maggie. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was better than the alternative. “Can we start over?”
She sighed. “What is this, like our fourth fresh start?”
“Maybe.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“I have no clue.”
“Me, either. But it doesn’t seem like it should be this hard.”
I knew what she meant. “Fine. Let’s not let it be hard then. Let’s act like everything is normal between us. Like things are the way they used to be.”
Let’s pretend.
“How are your classes?” I asked her.
“Good. Yours?”
“Boring.” I flashed her a grin, unable to resist. “You look beautiful tonight.”
She blushed, and my heartbeat sped up. “I don’t think friends are supposed to say things like that.”
“You mean Fleur didn’t tell you that you looked good tonight?”
Maggie considered this. “Actually, Fleur told me I looked fucking hot.”
“Well, she’s right, but beautiful seemed friendlier.” I winked at her. “See? Trying.”
“I thought you didn’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Try.”
“If you think that, then you haven’t been paying attention.”
She shook her head. “What are we doing here?”
“Not fucking?”
That startled a laugh out of her. I’d missed hearing her laugh. “Has anyone told you you’re kind of impossible?”
“Yes. You. All the time.”
“That’s because you drive me nuts.”
“I know. But you like it. A lot. You can’t resist my charm.” I was determined to tease whatever awkwardness lingered between us out of her. Even if the teasing bordered on flirting.
“You’re not nearly as charming as you think.”
“Maybe not, but you like it.”
“Maybe I do.” She shook her head, resignation filling her eyes. “This is so fucked up.”
It was, but it was also us. I’d take it any way I could get it. I’d take her any way I could get her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Maggie
“ARE WE GOING to talk about it?” Mya asked, looking up from her dinner.
“Talk about what?”
“Last night. You and Samir.”
“What about me and Samir?”
“You guys have been weird ever since this semester started. Half the time you won’t look at him, and he looks at you like you’re a tall glass of water and he’s dying of thirst.”
“That’s ridiculous.” I struggled to not to react even as her words sent a funny thrill through me. “That’s just how Samir is. You know that.”
“Come on. He didn’t talk or dance with one girl last night. Hell, he didn’t even check anyone out.”
“He has a girlfriend.”
I hated forcing the word from my lips, but it seemed important to say it, to remember it.
“Yeah, like that’s stopped him before.”
“There’s nothing between me and Samir.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yes.”
She looked totally unconvinced. There was only one way this could get worse. “You haven’t said anything to Fleur, have you? About your suspicions?”
Mya shook her head.
“Please don’t. There’s nothing going on.” Anymore. “I swear.”
The last thing I needed was for Fleur to think I was somehow involved with her cousin. I wasn’t sure if she’d be pissed or feel sorry for me. Probably a combination of both.
“I won’t. Just promise that if you ever need to talk, you’ll tell me.”
“I promise.”
“Promise what?” Fleur slid into the seat next to me, a tray of food in hand.
I flushed. “Nothing important. How’s your day going?”
“Good. By the way, George is going to sit with us.”
“Seriously?”
“I invited him. He said yes.”
Mya and I gaped at her.
“What’s the big deal? You both told me I needed to find a nice guy. In fact, I seem to remember both of you bitching at me because of Costa.” My jaw dropped. Fleur never said his name.
“We didn’t think you would actually listen to us,” Mya answered.
“I didn’t ask him to marry me. I invited him to eat dinner with us. It’s only a big deal if you make it one.”
Or if George made it one. I was happy for them, but worried at the same time.
“Hi, Maggie.”
I looked up to see George standing in front of us, an uncomfortable expression on his face. I stood and gave him a hug.
George was a member of the Residence Life staff and one of the few British students at the International School. He was tall, blond and cute in a boy-next-door sort of way. And he was totally, completely head over heels for Fleur—a fact he’d managed to hide from me until she’d landed herself in the hospital last spring.
“Come join us.”
I slid my chair over, making room for him at the table. He fumbled with his tray for a moment before settling into the seat next to mine. I felt a pang of sympathy for him. It wasn’t too long ago that I’d felt the same way—nervous, awkward, completely intimidated by the International School glitterati.
The George I’d gotten to know last year was confident and fun. This version was... different. Fleur seemed to reduce him to pile of awkward nerves.
We talked for a few minutes about our summers. Finally, Mya shot me a look, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively toward Fleur and George.
What? I mouthed.
Suddenly Mya coughed loudly. “I think I’m going to head to the library and do some studying.”
Ahh. “Yeah, me, too.” Fleur shot us both a look filled with suspicion. George just looked uncomfortable.
I grinned, grabbing my tray and pushing away from the table. “See you guys later.”
Mya and I walked out of the cafeteria together.
“Okay, it’s a little weird, right? Fleur and George?” she asked.
“I guess. I mean, I figured he had a thing for her last year. I just wasn’t sure if she’d ever be interested in him. He’s a great guy, but yeah, he’s not exactly her type. Although George would be a billion times better for her than Costa ever was.” My eyes narrowed. “Where is Costa, anyway? I haven’t seen him around this year.” With the face of a god and the soul of the devil, Costa was pretty hard to miss.
“You didn’t hear?”
“Obviously not.” I’d been so consumed by my current situation with Samir that I’d barely paid attentio
n to the usual International School gossip.
“He transferred.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. The rumor is that his parents pulled him out of school and sent him somewhere in the U.S.” Mya lowered her voice, stepping closer to me. “You absolutely cannot tell Fleur, but I heard his parents found out he got a girl pregnant while he was here, and they flipped out.”
Horror filled me.
“Seriously, though, that’s super-secret. You can’t tell anyone. Especially Fleur. I don’t think she could handle it right now.”
It was a minute before I could formulate a response. Because I knew something Mya didn’t. Unless Costa was incredibly virile and even stupider than I’d thought, I had a pretty good idea of who the girl in question was. Fleur was going to freak out. I didn’t know how to break it to her, but she had to know what people were saying before someone blindsided her with it.
“That’s crazy.”
“Yeah, he really was a dick.” Mya gestured toward the library. “Do you want to come study?”
“Go on ahead. I’m not in a studying mood at the moment.”
I wanted a chance to talk to Fleur. If she was going to hear about Costa from someone, I wanted it to be me.
Samir
I HIT “END” on my phone, shoving it back into my pocket.
My conversations with Layla were always like this—awkward. I’d known her most of my life, and we’d seen each other at enough formal events, but we’d never really been friends or anything. She was nice, but she was a girl. A quiet, shy, good girl. We had nothing in common and I suspected I made her just as uncomfortable as she made me. She seemed about as into our “relationship” as I was.
I was trying to do this right. Trying to be a good boyfriend and call her to see how she was doing. I was trying. But I sucked at it, and I was so sick of trying.
I pulled a cigarette out of my pocket, fumbling for my lighter. Then I saw her and a slow smile spread across my face. I couldn’t help it; the damn thing just appeared every time I caught sight of her.
She sat on the steps, her knees pulled up against her chest, her long brown hair falling all around her.
“Hi.”
Maggie’s head jerked up and her lips slowly curved. Any lingering awkwardness evaporated with that smile.
London Falling Page 4
