London Falling

by Chanel Cleeton

  “Hi.”

  “What are you doing out here?” I walked up to the top step where she sat.

  Something that might have been worry crossed her face. “Waiting for Fleur.”

  I sank down next to her. “Is everything okay?”

  She hesitated for a moment, and I knew whatever answer she gave wouldn’t be completely the truth. I hated that there were things she didn’t seem to be willing to trust me with.

  “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I know. But I can’t talk about it. I made someone a promise that I wouldn’t.”

  I was silent for a moment. “Just tell me this at least—are you okay?”

  A soft smile teased her mouth. “I’m fine.”

  I lit the cigarette, positioning my body so the smoke would blow away from her. I knew she didn’t like this habit of mine and I tried not to smoke around her, but I needed a cigarette right now, needed something to take the edge off after my conversation with Layla. I could feel the noose tightening around my neck.

  “Where is Fleur?”

  “In the cafeteria with George.”

  I made a face. “Sorry, but you know that’s the worst idea ever.”

  “It’s not,” Maggie protested. “He’s a good guy. He really seems to like her.”

  I loved Fleur, but she was all kinds of screwed up. I’d had a few classes with George. There was no way he could handle someone like Fleur. She’d chew him up and spit him out without even meaning to. The hope in Maggie’s eyes was the only thing that had me refraining from saying so.

  People like Fleur and me were too fucked up for nice, normal people. We hurt them without even meaning to, let them down without even realizing it. We should come with a warning label.

  “So you’re matchmaking.”

  “Maybe.”

  I grinned, reaching out and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. I’d never thought cute could be sexy before her, but she was so adorable I couldn’t resist.

  For a moment, my fingers lingered against her skin.

  The pink shade on her cheeks deepened. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

  “My pleasure.”

  “Are you like this with everyone? Or am I just lucky?” she asked, her voice tart.

  “Like what?”

  “Turning every word into a proposition?”

  I laughed. “Only for you, babe.”

  She shoved me playfully and all I could think was, Don’t ever take your hands off of me. Please.

  We faced off across from each other, her hands on my chest. She was close enough that if I just leaned forward, I could kiss her. Our breath mingled, our faces nearly touching. Her fingers curled into the fabric of my jacket, holding me in place. I didn’t move. I just sat there, staring at her. Waiting to see what she would do next, wondering how I would respond. There was an invitation in her eyes that made me want to close the distance between us. There was a defensiveness in her stance that held me back.

  Suddenly Maggie broke the connection, looking away from me. She reached down, grabbing her bag. I sat there, watching her, my hands at my sides, struggling not to reach out and take what I so desperately wanted.

  Whatever had passed between us disappeared as quickly as it had flared. Its absence left a chill in the air.

  “I’m going to head back to the dorm,” Maggie announced.

  “I thought you were waiting for Fleur.”

  “I better go before you do full-on proposition me here on the steps.”

  Her words were light, but her eyes and her voice were sad. I knew what she was trying to do, hated faking it with her. But I played along. It was easier not to be serious with her.

  “I bet I could have you naked in three minutes flat.”

  She laughed, the sound filling the air. “Come on, Samir. You know I’m not that kind of girl. It would take at least ten.”

  “Then it would be the best ten minutes of my life,” I answered honestly.

  She turned away for a moment, hiding her face, before looking back at me. “I’ll see you around.”

  I wanted to ask her to stay. I wanted to keep joking with her, talking with her, anything to keep her near me. I wanted to strip her naked on the steps. I wanted it all, and I had a right to none of it. So I simply nodded.

  “See you around.”

  I watched her walk away, her hips swaying and hair swinging, and I couldn’t help but feel like her departure had taken all of the laughter out of the air.

  I sat on the steps, staring out at the sky, taking another drag from my cigarette. It was all I could do to keep from calling her back to me.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Maggie

  IT TOOK ME ten minutes to get my shit together after seeing Samir out on the steps. Twenty before I was able to think about something other than how good it felt when he touched me, how easy it had been to laugh around him. It took me opening a book in order to clear my head. I was still reading when I heard the sound of the door opening.

  I was closing my book and setting it down on the comforter when Fleur walked into the room.

  I wasn’t even sure how to start this conversation. I didn’t know how Fleur was going to take it, or if she was even strong enough to hear it right now. But she deserved to hear it from someone who cared about her rather than someone looking for a piece of gossip.

  “Nice job back there in the cafeteria. Way to be smooth.”

  “It was all Mya.”

  Fleur shot me a look. “Sure it was.”

  “How did it go?”

  Fleur sank down on the bed across from me. “It was good, I think. I don’t know. He’s nice. Quiet. I’ve never been with a guy like that before. But he’s also so shy. It’s hard to get him to talk.”

  “I think it’s you. Honestly, I’ve known him for a year now, and he’s really fun. I think you intimidate him.”

  Fleur frowned. “I’m not trying to.”

  “I know. But I think he has this image of you built up in his head. The whole starring-in-the-French-rap-video thing, the guys, the clubs, the money. I don’t think his past is nearly as flashy as yours.”

  She sighed. “I just wish he would let go a bit. I think I could actually like him if he were more relaxed with me. Half the time we just stare at each other and he doesn’t even talk. And when he does talk, I have no clue what he’s talking about. He’s so smart. I feel like an idiot around him.”

  Surprise filled me. “You’re not an idiot.”

  “Well, I feel like one. Did you know he’s a history major?”

  I nodded.

  “He talks about all these old wars; I’ve never even heard of half of them.”

  “I don’t think knowing about old wars makes you smart.”

  “I’m fairly sure it does in his book. And I can’t help but feel like he thinks I’m a moron.”

  “Fleur, he doesn’t.”

  “His friend does.”

  “Which friend?”

  “That guy Max. The American one.”

  “I don’t know him.”

  “Oh, come on. You totally do. He’s the super-boring guy with the underwear model’s body. I swear, you can practically see how cut his abs are through his T-shirts.” She shrugged. “He works out at my gym.”

  I cracked up. “Definitely don’t know who you’re talking about.”

  “Whatever. We’ve had a few classes together, and he’s a total dick. He got pissed at me one time because I was texting in class next to him. Said it was distracting.”

  As nice as George was, I had a hard time believing he’d be friends with a dick. “It is a little annoying when people do that.”

  Fleur glared at me. “It was microeconomics. Do you know how boring microeconomics is?”

  I laughed. “Fine. Fair enough. I’m sorry I questioned your right to text.”

  “Whatever. I like George. I think. Despite his tendency to talk about old wars and his bad choice in friends.”


  “If that’s not a ringing endorsement...” I joked.

  Fleur chucked her pillow at me. “Laugh all you want. I’m trying here. You told me to find a nice guy. I’m trying to find a nice guy. It’s not as easy as it looks.”

  Tell me about it.

  “What about you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, now that the Hugh thing is over, what’s next? Any cute guys on the horizon?”

  I grimaced. “Not even kind of.”

  Fleur sighed, leaning back on her bed. “We’re a fine pair, aren’t we?”

  Yep, we both put the “fun” in dysfunctional when it came to romance.

  It was now or never. “I need to talk to you about something. I don’t want you to freak out and I hate having to tell you this, but I also don’t want you to hear it from anyone else.”

  “Okay.”

  “There’s a rumor going around here that Costa had to transfer out of the International School because his parents found out he got a girl pregnant while he was a student.”

  Fleur paled.

  “No one knows who it is,” I continued, “and it’s a really quiet rumor. But I thought you should know.”

  “Oh my god.”

  “No one knows it was you. And with Costa gone, there’s a good chance no one will ever find out.”

  Fleur shot me a horrified look. “This cannot be happening. That was over a year and a half ago. How are they just now finding out about it? How did they find out about it at all? Why the hell do they even care?”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Do you know how bad it will be if this gets out? You’ve seen what the gossip here is like. Let’s be honest, people hate me. This is exactly the kind of story that’s going to spread around school like wildfire.”

  She was probably right about all of it, and I had no idea what to say to make her feel better.

  “You can’t freak out. You don’t even know if anyone knows it was you. Costa may not have told anyone. And besides, even if it does get out, you have nothing to be ashamed of. What happened to you could have happened to anyone. No one has the right to judge you for having sex with your boyfriend. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Someone thinks I did.” Fleur reached into her bag and took out her phone. She pulled something up on the screen and handed it to me.

  Shock filled me at the words on the screen. It was an email from an account that looked anonymous. The email was two lines.

  I know your secret. Fifteen thousand pounds buys my silence.

  I met her gaze. “That’s almost thirty thousand dollars. When did you get this?”

  “A couple days ago.” Fleur’s expression was grim. “I thought it was a stupid prank or something. I didn’t know what secret it could be referring to. But if someone knows about the baby, maybe this is related.”

  “Do you think it’s from Natasha?”

  Costa’s current girlfriend hated Fleur. If I were going to start somewhere, I would start with her. I didn’t know if she’d ever figured out that Costa had been fooling around with Fleur last year, but if she had, it would be a game changer.

  “I don’t know. She definitely hates me enough. I thought about confronting her, but if it isn’t her, I don’t want her to realize she could have ammunition on me. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of thinking I’m rattled by this.”

  Her words were tough, but the look on her face said it all. Fleur was hanging on by a thread.

  “You can’t tell anyone. I’m not ready for anyone else to know about it yet.”

  “Not even Samir?”

  “No one can know. Promise me.”

  “I think it would be better if you have help with this. But if you don’t want me to say anything, I won’t. What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know.” Tears welled up in Fleur’s eyes. “I can’t talk about it. I can’t talk about the miscarriage. I can’t talk about any of it. You don’t know what it was like. No one does.” A sob escaped. “I just want to move on. I want to put all this behind me and move on. I thought it would be easier with Costa gone. But no matter how hard I fucking try, I feel like my life is defined by this one thing.”

  I hurt for her. I joined her on the bed, wrapping my arms around her while she cried.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I whispered. “We all have your back. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. You’re right—what happened is no one’s business. But you have people who love you, and you aren’t alone in this.”

  Fleur wiped at her eyes, pulling away from me. “Thank you. I know. It’s just hard.” She sighed. “Do you think I don’t know people talk about me? That every time I enter the room everyone whispers about how I’m the girl who overdosed last semester. They all think the worst of me. They all think I’m just some party girl who deserves everything that’s happened.”

  Fleur wasn’t well-liked, and she definitely had a reputation. It was tough. She was easily the most beautiful girl at the International School. Add in the gobs of money that kept her in Manolo Blahnik and Fendi, and she wasn’t exactly the most sympathetic figure. And Fleur knew she was gorgeous. She walked around campus like she owned it. Even with the current gossip going around, I’d yet to see her duck her head or give an inch. If not for the fact that she was currently sobbing in my arms, I never would have imagined anyone could hurt her. Which was silly, of course. I knew better than anyone—the most painful scars were the ones we didn’t show the rest of the world.

  “The people who love you—me, Mya, Michael, Samir—we’ll always be here for you. I promise.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, offering me a weak smile.

  “For what it’s worth, I think you’re the strongest person I know.”

  Fleur laughed. “I find that really hard to believe.”

  “No. You are. You face the world head-on. You don’t apologize for yourself; you don’t let life get you down. You’re human. You make mistakes. Bad shit happens to you. But every morning you wake up ready to seize life by the balls—and you look fabulous while doing so. You’re an amazing friend. And I love you.”

  I didn’t say “I love you” a lot. I told my grandmother I loved her, and that was really about it. My dad had never said it. Maybe my mom had when I was younger, before she’d left without looking back. I didn’t really remember. But in that moment, I knew I loved Fleur. On the surface we were so different. She was everything I wanted to be at times—strong, confident, fearless—and yet I saw so much of myself in her. She got me as very few people did. I was close to her in a way I would never be with Mya.

  Fleur and I shared an understanding. Because underneath all of the differences, on a fundamental level, she knew what it was like to not feel worthy of being loved.

  And I, better than anyone, knew how much that could fuck you up.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Samir

  I HESITATED, MY HAND pressed against the wood-paneled door. Walk upstairs. Do not go into the common room. Don’t. Just don’t.

  We were both night owls. I knew how much Maggie liked to hang out in the common room watching TV. I had a TV in my room, and yet last year I’d always found myself down here. This year, I’d been trying to avoid it. There was an intimacy to hanging out with Maggie at night. An intimacy that started out on a couch and ended up in bed.

  It had been hours since I’d seen her on the steps, and I couldn’t get the image out of my mind. She’d looked lost, and whatever was bothering her seemed to be wearing on her.

  I pushed open the door, striding into the one room I’d avoided since coming back to London. In part because of the danger of being around her like this, and in part because I wasn’t sure I wanted to confront the memories. This was where everything had changed and it all hit me at once.

  Just being in the common room reminded me of that night. Made me remember what it felt like to have her. It reminded me of the feeling of her legs wrapped around me, her a
ss in my hands, her tongue in my mouth. But the memories weren’t the only reason I’d been avoiding this room. The other very big reason sat curled up on the couch, dressed in a sweater and shorts, her legs bare.

  Her surprised gaze met mine, and for a moment a flash of unease crossed her face.

  “Hi.” Her voice was soft and smooth, filled with just the barest hint of the Southern accent I knew she hated, but I secretly loved.

  “Hi,” I echoed. It was 2:00 a.m. We had the common room all to ourselves. A wiser man would have turned and left. My feet carried me toward her.

  “Can’t sleep?”

  She shook her head, wrapping the sweater tighter around her body. She was so little that the fabric all but swallowed her. It was ridiculously cute and sexy at the same time.

  “You?”

  “Same.”

  I didn’t add that I couldn’t sleep because I’d spent the last hour in my bed, reliving the memory of her there. It was torture having the same room I’d had last year. Absolute torture.

  “Are you just going to stand there? Or do you want to sit?”

  Actually, I’d like to bury myself in your body.

  “Sure.”

  I sank down on the couch next to her, careful to keep some space between us. It hit me at the exact same moment that a blush spread across her cheeks—

  This was our couch. This was the couch that had started it all.

  Minutes passed with silence between us. It wasn’t comfortable silence. It was agonizingly awkward, but I literally couldn’t think of one thing to say to her.

  She ran her hand through her hair, the silky strands slipping through her fingers. The scent of her shampoo filled the air. She smelled like vanilla and cookies. I was instantly hard and strangely hungry.

  “How is everything?”

  I struggled to concentrate on her question. “Fine. Good.” Better now. “I was surprised I didn’t see you in any of my classes.”

  Maggie grinned. “I have mostly morning classes.”

  “That explains it, then.”

  “Is it weird, knowing this is your last year of university?”

  “I don’t want it to end.” I laughed at my words, realizing how big a cliché I was. The boy who didn’t want to grow up.