“I know what you mean.”
I hated the sadness in her voice. “Rough time at home this summer?”
“I don’t know. It wasn’t one thing. It was just...everything. I felt so trapped there. I love my grandparents. I mean, seriously, they’re amazing. But I can’t be myself. I’m this other person. This girl who doesn’t rock the boat and says ‘yes, ma’am,’ and ‘no, sir’ and plays by the rules. And it’s not that I want to cause trouble for them—I just sometimes don’t want to have to be that person. I don’t want to have to pretend everything’s fine when it’s not. That I’m not angry, when I am.” Her voice was raw. “I’m so tired of pretending. So tired of working so hard to be good. It’s exhausting pretending to be someone you’re not.”
Her words gutted me. With each word, something unraveled within me. I’d never heard anyone say exactly what I always felt. I knew what it was like to feel trapped in your own body, like you were playing a role you desperately wanted to break out from. I hated that she felt that way.
“You don’t have to pretend with me.”
Her eyes widened slightly.
I shrugged, embarrassment filling me. “I’m just saying. If we’re going to be friends, then you shouldn’t feel like you can’t be yourself with me.”
“You sure about that?” she asked, and I was relieved to hear the teasing note in her voice. “I’ve been known to give you a hard time.”
“I don’t mind.”
She laughed, the sound full and rich. “Really?”
“Really.” I nudged her with my knee. “It’s nice. I like being friends. I’ve missed just hanging out.”
God, I might as well turn my balls in now. What was wrong with me? This shit just kept coming out of my mouth, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
“I missed hanging out, too.”
“See? We can do this, right? Be friends.” I just had to keep my dick under control. So far, so good.
“True.” She tucked her legs up to her chest, her body curling up into a little ball. She looked so comfortable, so perfect just sitting there. I shifted on the couch slightly, my leg brushing against hers. Okay, yes, maybe I did it on purpose, but I couldn’t resist.
Besides, as long as I didn’t kiss her, as long as I didn’t run my hands under her sweater, caressing her skin, stripping that sweater off, all would be good.
I could do friends. Especially if it meant I could touch her. Even just a bit.
Maggie
THE SECOND HIS LEG brushed mine, a wave of heat spread through my body. It was weird. I was still annoyed about the girlfriend thing, still pissed at him on some level. At least I had been. But now, sitting next to him on the couch, I didn’t really care. There was something comfortable between us, underneath the tension and the awkwardness. It had been there last year when we’d barely known each other. It was the thing that made me share more with him than I did with most people.
I could be myself with Samir. I’d missed that. In between the butterflies and the nerves and the desire to pull out my hair, there were these moments when I felt peace. Maybe the sex stuff just complicated things. Maybe we were just supposed to be friends.
His leg was still there, resting near mine. Samir’s face was turned away from me, watching the TV. Did he realize where his leg was? Did he even care?
Was this in the friend code? I had no idea what the rules were for a guy you were friends (ish) with, then slept with, and were then friends with again. But then again, I wasn’t the one with the girlfriend. Even though I knew it was wrong, it felt too good to walk away from. I wouldn’t move closer, but I wouldn’t pull away—
“You look really uncomfortable,” Samir said, a smile tugging at his lips.
My body was contorted in a weird angle, my leg the only part even close to him.
“I’m fine.”
He sighed, raising his arm to the back of the couch. “Come here.” He gestured to the space beside him.
“I’m okay.”
“I promise I can stand you sitting next to me. We’re friends right? Friends can lie beside each other on the couch and watch movies.”
I pulled a face.
“They can. Come on. Just think of me as Michael. You’d lie next to him.”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t be worried about Michael getting turned on by me sitting next to him.”
“I can behave,” he protested. “Come here.”
I wasn’t stupid. I knew by now that I couldn’t control myself around him. I knew staying away from him was in my best interest and his. I knew better than to let myself get close to him, than to let him inside. And yet, as hard as I tried to resist, he was like a magnet pulling me closer. He made me reckless, and I’d never been reckless before him.
I shifted on the couch, moving my body closer to his. He closed the distance between us, tucking me against his body like a puzzle piece snapping into place.
“Comfortable?”
Not even kind of.
It was the worst kind of agony. I was close enough to smell his cologne, feel his strong body beside mine. His breath tickled my ear. His hands hovered dangerously close to places that burned for him. He was so close—and yet so far.
“Yep.”
He pulled me even tighter against his body, a sigh escaping his lips. We both stared at the TV, neither one of us speaking.
There was nothing to say. We flirted around a line, dipping a toe or two over and then jumping back again. We played with fire, dancing on the precipice of something we couldn’t come back from.
I was so afraid I would fall.
CHAPTER TEN
Samir
“WHY ARE YOU being so weird?” Fleur asked me in French.
Most of the time we spoke in English at school—but sometimes, when she wanted to talk to me about something important or private, she switched to French.
I moved down the hallway, my strides impatient. I wasn’t in the mood to get harassed by Fleur. It was the second week of classes and things were still a mess with Maggie. I was still a mess.
“I’m not being weird.”
“I’ve barely seen you all semester.”
“School has been back for a few weeks. It’s hardly been ‘all semester.’”
“Well, I didn’t see you much this summer, either.”
I’d tried my best to check in on her, but much like my life, my summer had not been my own. “I told you, I was working for my dad. We couldn’t all spend the summer on a yacht in the South of France.”
I was being an ass. I was pissed off and taking it out on her, which wasn’t fair. I couldn’t seem to control it, though. This gnawing frustration had been building, and was infinitely worse after seeing Maggie in the common room. I’d thought allowing myself small doses would be enough. Turned out it only made things worse. Like a junkie, I craved more.
“You seem on edge. Snappy.”
“I’m not on edge.”
Okay, maybe yes, I was a little on edge. I’d been chain smoking like a maniac, and tension coursed through my body.
“You look like you need to get laid.”
I froze in mid-step. “Excuse me?”
Fleur fisted her hands on her hips. “You do. You definitely look like you’re hurting for it.”
“Jesus.”
“Well, you do.”
“I’m not hurting for it,” I muttered through clenched teeth. “I can get laid any time I want.”
Total fucking lie. Maybe I could get laid anytime I wanted. Just not by the only girl I wanted to lay.
“I take it the girlfriend doesn’t put out.”
“It’s not like that. Just drop it, okay?”
“Fine, if you’re going to be a girl about it.”
“I’m not a girl,” I protested. “I just don’t feel like taking about my sex life right now.”
Fleur smirked. “Trouble in paradise?”
She had no idea.
“Look, I don’t want to talk about it. I
have class in like five minutes and then I’m hanging out with Omar.”
“I feel like you’re avoiding me.”
“I’m not avoiding you.” I was, a bit. But it was hard being around her with the whole Maggie situation going on. We were trying to act like nothing had happened between us. I didn’t need Fleur getting involved. “We’ll hang out, I promise. Let’s make a plan for next week.”
“Want to go bowling?”
I stopped in my tracks. For like the millionth time today, Fleur had completely caught me off guard. “Excuse me?”
“Bowling. Tonight. In Holborn. There’s a group of us going.”
“Bowling?”
“It might be fun.”
“Okay, you’re asking me why I’m being weird? Since when do you bowl?”
“George is going.”
“George?”
She flushed. “He’s nice.”
“Sure he is.”
I knew Fleur had changed after her overdose, but I hadn’t realized she’d basically had a lobotomy. If Fleur was going bowling, then hell had officially frozen over. Although I wasn’t sure what was weirder: that she was going bowling, or that she was going bowling with a guy like George.
“He is nice. You should give him a chance.”
“That’s not what I do. You either. What gives?”
“I’m turning over a new leaf. Maggie suggested it. I think she may be onto something. Besides, you know how Maggie is. Once she gets her mind on something, there’s no turning back.”
I did know Maggie. Maybe better than anyone. That was the problem. She was frustrating and exciting and confusing. She was hard to read and impossible to forget. And she was killing my sanity.
“So are you coming or not?”
I stared blankly at her.
“Bowling?”
Right. “Definitely not. I have no desire to bowl. I’m pretty sure there isn’t any amount of money you could give me to make me even consider it. Besides, George is not my idea of a good time. The guy’s less exciting than a trip to the dentist. I don’t care how nice he is.”
Fleur glared at me. “Fine. The rest of us will have fun without you.”
“Is this a group date?” This thing got lamer by the second.
“I told you. Maggie’s the one pushing us to go out. She organized it.”
Motherfucker.
“So Maggie’s going?”
“Yeah, it was her idea. She thought it would make George more comfortable to do something on his terms.”
How was I going to tell her I wanted to go now?
My resolve was crumbling. Maybe it had never been there to begin with. My efforts had been half-assed at best. At a school this small, it was difficult enough to try to avoid Maggie, harder still when I didn’t want to.
“Makes sense.” I hesitated for a moment, not used to having to explain myself. “Okay fine, if everyone else is going, I’ll go.”
Fleur stared at me like I had three heads. “Are you serious? After all that, now you want to go?”
“I didn’t say I wanted to go,” I lied. “But I’ll go.”
Fleur’s eyes narrowed. “Are you just going to make fun of George?”
“No.”
“Seriously, you have to promise not to make fun of him.”
I was surprised she even cared—it was unlike her to be this concerned about someone like George.
“Fine. I promise.”
There was one reason I was going bowling and it had nothing to do with George.
Maggie
“YOU GUYS READY?”
There were six of us—me, Michael, Mya, Fleur, George and George’s friend Max. Max was a year ahead of me and though I hadn’t met him before, he seemed nice enough. Hopefully his presence would make things a little less awkward for George.
I loved bowling. Jo and I bowled all the time in South Carolina. I wasn’t any good, but it was a ton of fun. Plus I couldn’t resist the idea of Fleur in rented shoes.
“We’re just waiting for one other person,” Fleur called out.
“Who?” My body collided with someone. I looked up—
“Me.” Samir grinned, and my heart lurched like a boulder tumbling off a cliff. “Sorry I’m late.”
“You’re going bowling?”
His smile deepened. “Yes.”
“Bowling? Like rented shoes and pizza and eighties music? Bowling?”
He laughed, the sound reverberating through my body, all the way down to my toes.
“Why?”
Samir draped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me toward the door. “It sounded like fun.”
I looked up at him. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with Samir?”
Fleur laughed behind me. “That’s what I said.”
Samir leaned down, his lips grazing my ear as if he were telling me a secret. “Maybe I’m not here for the bowling. Maybe I’m here for the company.”
Our gazes met. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. There was something in his eyes that made me think he wasn’t teasing. This felt like full-on flirting. More than pretending to be friends.
I let him maneuver me down the steps before he finally released me. I immediately missed the feel of his arm around my shoulders, of my body near his. I struggled for nonchalance, trying to put some space between us, trying to get my silly, racing heart under control.
Mya shot me a look, linking arms with me. “Still sure nothing is going on?”
“Nothing at all,” I lied.
We walked toward Gloucester Road tube station, heading for the Piccadilly line to Holborn. It was late enough that the streets were crowded with people on their way home from work. We walked as a group, occasionally separated by the stray pedestrian marching toward the station. I spent most of the time talking to Michael about his semester. He had a new boyfriend and had been spending most of his time with him. The rest of the group was pretty quiet.
We all piled onto the Tube, mashed against each other in the melee that was standard for London. I usually tried to avoid the Piccadilly line at rush hour when you got the truly awful combination of pissed-off commuters and wide-eyed tourists. Everyone sort of existed in a simmering rage, fueled by frequent delays.
By the time we got to Holborn and up to the street level, I felt like I’d just run a mile.
We walked toward the bowling alley, conversation picking up now. I checked out for a bit, my attention completely focused on my surroundings. I loved Holborn. For me, it was London at its most academic. It was the home of the London School of Economics, the Holy Grail of IR. They had these amazing lecture series that were open to the public; sometimes I’d go and listen to their world-class speakers. I’d sit in the audience and pretend I was a student there, doing a master’s.
“Daydreaming?”
I turned and grinned at Samir. He understood what this place meant better than anyone.
“Maybe.”
“Are you going to apply your senior year? You should.”
“I might. It’s competitive, though.”
“True. But you’re smart. You at least have to try.”
He matched his pace with mine, walking beside me down the street. We’d broken off from the others; I wasn’t sure if he’d meant to do it or not. For a few minutes, neither one of us spoke. His shoulder brushed against mine a few times, that alone filling me with anticipation.
“Fleur wearing rented, fake leather shoes. Highlight of your night?”
I giggled. “Definite highlight. I’m taking a photo.”
He grinned, and for a moment it felt like we were sharing a secret.
“She must really like him.”
“Why do you say that?”
He shrugged, a little smile on his face. “Because we all do things that are out of character when we really like someone.”
I froze, my heart stumbling in my chest. “We? I thought that wasn’t your style.”
“Maybe I’m not the guy I used to be. Maybe I never li
ked anyone enough.” He paused for what felt like an eternity. “Until now.”
I stared back at him, unable to formulate a response. I wasn’t sure what that meant, and part of me was afraid to ask. Something was up tonight. There was something different between us. I couldn’t read him, couldn’t guess what he wanted. It felt like we were always a beat out of sync.
We walked the rest of the way to the bowling alley in silence.
“Hey, Maggie.” I turned at the sound of Mya’s voice. “We’re forming teams. Why don’t you and Max team up?” She shot me a knowing look that wasn’t even kind of subtle.
Samir stiffened beside me.
“Sure.”
I smiled at Max. He was cute, with dark brown hair and green eyes. He had that all-American look I’d become familiar with back home. He did look built, although sadly I couldn’t make out the outline of the famous abs. I’d have to take Fleur’s word for it.
I could see why Mya thought we would be a good fit. We had the American thing in common, and he seemed nice enough. But I wasn’t that girl. Stupidly, maybe, all of my attention was focused on the brooding and off-limits boy beside me.
We all got our shoes and headed toward the lanes. The bowling alley was upscale, with almost a nightclub feel to it—so different from the rundown place I bowled at back in South Carolina. Fleur looked predictably put out by the whole thing, but surprisingly, she seemed to be trying. Samir hadn’t even bothered renting shoes. He’d decided he would just watch. Which I soon discovered meant he would watch me.
The first few games went by fairly quickly. Max was easily the best in the group, so it wasn’t a surprise when we quickly took the lead. Fleur was hopeless. But even she settled into the spirit of it all and was soon laughing with the rest of us.
And all the while I could feel Samir’s eyes on me as he sat at the table, slowly nursing his whiskey and Coke.
Samir
IT MADE HER happy—bowling.
Her smile lit up the room and her laughter filled it and I wanted her so badly it hurt.
I’d never met anyone like her. She didn’t seem to care that we were in a bowling alley. She was just as happy here as she was sitting in the VIP section at a club. She treated life like everything was an adventure, and found pleasure in the littlest of things. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt like that. Couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so taken by something or surprised by anything. Couldn’t remember feeling that kind of happiness—
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