I See London 1

by Chanel Cleeton

  “Can I ask you something?” He lowered his voice softly.

  “Sure.”

  “What’s going on here?”

  I blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “You seem to blow hot and cold a lot. And I can’t figure it out.”

  For a moment I could only stare at him. I didn’t even know where to begin.

  “I think I figured it out.”

  “Really?”

  “You seem…” For a moment he seemed uncomfortable. “Maybe a little inexperienced with guys…” His voice trailed off uncertainly.

  The word virgin lingered between us, unspoken.

  If the floor could have opened up and swallowed me whole, I would have gladly welcomed it.

  “It’s okay, you know.”

  My head jerked up. I still couldn’t meet his gaze.

  “It’s kind of cool, that you haven’t been with other guys. I respect that.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. I just wanted to know if we were on the same page with things. I’m a little confused,” he admitted ruefully.

  I couldn’t say I totally blamed him. I knew I had been blowing hot and cold for months now. I sucked in a deep breath, trying to gather up the courage to be honest. He seemed to deserve at least that much.

  “It’s not a religious thing or anything,” I explained hurriedly. “I’m not waiting until I’m married. I just always thought that my first time would be…” I trailed off, too embarrassed to finish the thought aloud.

  Hugh nodded. “I get it.” He leaned over, brushing my cheek with a kiss. “Your first time should be special.”

  I hesitated for a moment, not sure I wanted the answer to the question I was about to ask. But I was curious.

  “I’m guessing there have been a lot of girls for you.” I paused. Was I really about to ask him this? Did I really want to know? I sucked in a deep breath, the words rushing from my mouth with a great big whoosh. “Just out of curiosity, how many are we talking here? Ballpark. Thirty? One hundred?”

  Hugh choked back laughter. He paused for a moment and I wondered if he was actually counting. “More than thirty, less than one hundred?”

  Holy shit.

  Hugh ran his hand through his hair, a laugh escaping his lips. His expression was sheepish. “I know it seems high. A lot of those were when I was younger. I’ve settled down a bit.”

  I wasn’t sure I believed that.

  “We’re a fine pair, aren’t we?” Hugh sighed, pressing his forehead against mine. “I like you, Maggie.”

  Hope sprang up as the words wound their way into my heart. He leaned forward, placing another kiss on my lips.

  “I can be patient.”

  * * *

  I walked into the common room, feeling as though I was floating on air. It felt good to clear things up with Hugh.

  My phone rang.

  Was Hugh calling me already? A smile spread across my face. I stared down at my phone. Instead of seeing Hugh’s name like I expected, my caller ID just said “blocked.” My heart sank.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  His voice came through scratchy on the other end of the line. “How are you, Maggie?”

  Angry you never came home for Christmas like you promised. Tired of being without both my parents. Take your pick.

  “Fine.”

  “Good.”

  “What’s up?” I struggled to keep my voice light. These conversations never ended well.

  He hesitated for a moment before answering me. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  Something, call it a sense of awareness, settled in the pit of my stomach. My dad’s calls rarely brought good news. I doubted this would be an exception. What was it this time? A six-month assignment to Zimbabwe? A move to Korea? I was prepared for whatever it was. I’d heard it all. It shouldn’t even affect me all that much; I wasn’t a part of his life and he wasn’t a part of mine.

  I pushed through the common room door, heading toward the front hallway. Static filled the end of the line. I could hear my father saying something, but I couldn’t hear what.

  I needed fresh air.

  I sank down on the stone steps in the front of the building, hugging my knees to my chest in an attempt to ward off the cold. I was still dressed in my outfit from my date with Hugh—at least tonight I had worn jeans.

  “…are you there, Maggie?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. The connection was just bad for a minute. What did you say?”

  A pause filled the line. “I wanted to tell you I met someone.”

  A chill ran through my body, a chill that had nothing to do with the cold. My parents split up so long ago, I didn’t harbor any illusions they would get back together. But my dad was a military man first. Always. If he didn’t have time for me, how could he have time for a girlfriend?

  Pain pierced through me.

  I knew I should be happy for him. I should be the supportive, understanding daughter. It wasn’t entirely his fault my mom left. He deserved to be happy, too. But the overwhelming feeling swamping me wasn’t one of understanding.

  It was anger.

  More static filled the line. I heard my dad talking, but I couldn’t make out most of it. The words were a jumble, the connection making it impossible to have a good conversation. Until it cleared for one spectacularly awful moment.

  “We got married.”

  I dropped the phone.

  Chapter 30

  “Are you okay?”

  Not him.

  I sat on the steps, my phone on the ground. I brushed furiously at my cheeks. I should have gone to the privacy of my room. But when I tried to get up, my legs were rooted to the spot. Everything in my world had gone still. Everything was different, now.

  “I’m fine.”

  I sounded anything but.

  Samir ignored me. Instead of walking away like I hoped, he sat down next to me.

  “Are you sure? You don’t look okay.”

  “I’m fine,” I repeated, this time making my voice sound more forceful. Maybe I could will him away.

  “Boy problems?”

  I turned my head slightly to face him. Our eyes locked. The concern I saw in his gaze caught my breath. I laughed bitterly, the irony and horror of the situation sinking in. “I guess in a manner of speaking.”

  Samir’s eyebrow rose.

  I shook my head. “Not like that. It’s my father.” More tears escaped. I wiped at my cheeks. Suddenly I couldn’t contain it anymore. I had to say it aloud, had to acknowledge it was real. “He got married.” I broke out in sobs, my shoulders shaking with each movement.

  Samir didn’t say anything. He just sat there silently, waiting for me to speak.

  “I didn’t even know he was dating anyone. I didn’t know he ever dated anyone. And now he calls me out of the blue—he never calls me—to tell me he got married. To someone I’ve never even met. To someone I didn’t even know about.” More tears spilled down my cheeks.

  What I didn’t say—what I couldn’t say in front of Samir—was how betrayed I felt. It kept playing over and over in my mind, the same thought on loop. My father didn’t have room in his life for me—couldn’t make the time to be a dad to me. But he could make the time for a wife. He could love a wife.

  He couldn’t love me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t understand why.

  “You guys aren’t close?” His voice was surprisingly gentle.

  I sucked in a deep breath, trying to get control of myself. I was sure that the last thing Samir wanted was to have to deal with me losing my shit all over him. It wasn’t his fault he’d decided to come outside for a smoke.

  “Our relationship isn’t the best.” I stared straight ahead at the street in front of me, watching the cars drive by.

  “I can relate,” he replied.

  I turned to face him. “Really?”

  Samir nodded, staring ahead. “Yeah. Believe me, I’ve spent my whole life not measuring up to my parents’ expectation
s.”

  Surprise filled me. “What are they like? Your parents, I mean.”

  “Busy. Important. Cold.”

  I was fascinated by the pain in his voice. I’d learned more about Samir in the past week than I had in the past few months combined.

  He shrugged. “I’m just a big disappointment to them.”

  “Why?”

  “My dad’s a big deal in Lebanon. He’s big in business and politics. He wants me to get serious about stepping up and taking over the family legacy. He’s running for political office in two years and he wants me to be part of his campaign. Sometimes I wish he would just let go a bit. I don’t need all the pressure to carry on the family legacy. He never even considered that I might want to do something else with my life. Be something else. Have my own opinions about my country. So yeah, I get what you mean.”

  “It’s just frustrating—”

  “Because you wish things were different and they aren’t?”

  “Exactly.”

  Samir sighed. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jeans pocket. I watched, fascinated by the motions, as he pulled out a lighter, lighting the cigarette with a little flame. The smell of tobacco filled the air. He took a drag. As he blew out the smoke, he held it in midair, offering it to me.

  I shook my head. I’d never liked smoking. But somehow on him it fit.

  “Parents suck sometimes,” he offered wryly.

  “Yep.”

  He took another drag, blowing a circle of smoke into the air. “You said there was other stuff you were upset about. What else happened?”

  I hesitated. I wasn’t ashamed of my dad’s job or anything, but I also wasn’t stupid. Attending a school as international and liberal as the International School definitely put me on notice to the fact that announcing my dad’s job might not be in my best interests. I doubted kids like Samir would appreciate that my dad was a fighter pilot.

  “Oh, he’s just gone a lot for work,” I answered vaguely. “I live with my grandparents in South Carolina and the deal was that he would come visit when he got a chance. He hasn’t exactly lived up to his end of the bargain.”

  “How long has it been since you last saw him?”

  The familiar lump lodged in my throat. “I don’t know.” I sighed. “Thirteen months, five days and a few hours. But who’s counting?” I laughed bitterly.

  “You didn’t spend Christmas with him?”

  I shook my head. “No.” The word was barely a whisper. I wrapped my sweater tightly around my body. “He promised he would be home this time. But something came up and he ended up not making it.”

  “What about your mom?”

  “She left a long time ago.” Sometimes I didn’t blame her for leaving. I understood how much she must have hated always coming second to the military. I just wished she hadn’t left me.

  “That has to be hard.”

  I opened my mouth to give my standard answer—Eh, it’s not that bad—but something else came out instead. “It is.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Five.”

  “What happened?”

  No one had ever asked me that. It was crazy, but everyone in my life seemed to know my mom was off-limits. I treated her as if she were dead rather than alive somewhere, living her life without me. When I was younger, I used to tell people she died; it seemed like an easier answer and it was the closest thing to the truth.

  She was dead to me.

  I met Samir’s gaze, surprised by the emotion I saw flickering in his eyes. I felt stripped bare before him, more exposed than during any of the times we made out. I’d never wanted to talk about it before, and hadn’t even told my dad.

  For one crazy moment I wanted to tell Samir.

  I expelled a harsh breath. “It started off like a normal day. I don’t remember much about it, but I remember she made me a bowl of my favorite cereal. Lucky Charms.”

  He grinned. “I love the little marshmallows.”

  I had, too. I remembered picking them out of the cereal to eat first when I was a kid. I hadn’t eaten them since that day.

  “After breakfast she told me to get dressed for dance class. Ballet. I wore a pink leotard.” I shook my head, my fist clenching. It all came back in startling clarity. I remembered parts of it so vividly; others were just a haze. The shot of pain I felt in my chest was nearly unbearable. Samir reached out, his free hand grasping mine. I stared down, surprised by the sight of my pale hand entwined in his tan one. He squeezed my hand.

  “I got out of the car. I gave her a hug. It was quick—I was in a hurry to get to class. I was so excited to dance that day. It’s such a little thing, but I remember being annoyed by that hug.”

  My voice filled with emotion.

  “I wish I hadn’t pulled away so soon.” A tear slipped from my eye. “I wish I could have stayed there, with her. Maybe she would have stopped and thought about what she was doing. Maybe she would have stayed.”

  “Maggie—”

  With my free hand, I wiped furiously at my cheek. “And that was it. I walked away from her. I didn’t even turn around. I never saw her again. She never came to pick me up. I waited for an hour, sitting outside the school, waiting with my dance teacher. It’s crazy, but I remember having this knot in the pit of my stomach. I think I knew somehow, when she didn’t come. I think I knew she was gone.”

  Samir squeezed my hand, wrapping his fingers around mine, infusing me with his strength.

  “My grandmother came. My father was gone on an assignment somewhere. But my grandmother came for me. She took me back to their house, and that was it. My father never spoke of it.”

  “Never?”

  “In the beginning I would ask about her. But he would never answer me. Finally he told me she was dead. When I was older, I realized that wasn’t true. I found their divorce papers one day and I knew what happened.” My voice broke. “He got full custody. She didn’t want visitation. She didn’t want me.”

  “Maggie.”

  Samir wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. One arm hooked around my body, sliding me onto his lap. I sat there, his arms around me, cradling me, tears falling from my eyes.

  “I still remember the last thing she said to me. She told me to be good.”

  And I’d been good ever since.

  “When I was younger, I just thought if I was good that maybe she would come back for me.”

  That maybe she would love me.

  “Maggie.” Samir’s voice was raw with emotion. He reached out, his hand stroking my face. “It’s her loss.”

  My heart thudded. “You don’t have to—”

  “Listen to me,” Samir interrupted. “It’s her loss. If she left you, it’s on her. It wasn’t you.” He kissed the top of my head, his lips brushing against my hair. A shiver slid down my spine. “I promise you, it wasn’t you.”

  Emotion—thick and heavy—clogged my throat. “Thank you.” Embarrassment flooded me. “I should go.” I wriggled off his lap.

  Samir held me there. “Maggie—”

  I stared back at him, a question in my eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. And then his lips claimed mine.

  This time the kiss was nothing like the ones before. It started softly—hesitantly—a tentative meeting of lips. He pressed soft kisses against my mouth, sucking on my bottom lip gently, his tongue curling into my mouth.

  With each brush of his lips, I felt myself catching fire. His kiss was easy, almost sweet. My response was anything but. This time I took over the kiss, my mouth moving against his, devouring it. I gripped his arms, pressing his body against mine.

  I felt his arousal pressing against me. A moan escaped from my lips.

  “I want you.”

  Three words. Three words that slipped from my mouth without me even realizing it. Three terrifying words.

  I jerked back from Samir, my heart racing like a horse in the Kentucky Derby.

  “I don’t want to want you
.”

  I let Samir pull me back against his body, his arms stroking mine softly.

  “I know,” he whispered, his lips pressed against my hair.

  We sat there on the steps, not speaking, watching the cars drive by.

  Chapter 31

  Two days before Valentine’s Day, the International School descended into a nervous frenzy. There was far too much romantic drama going around for the holiday to not be a huge deal. Some guys had even gotten an early start—enormous bouquets of flowers were delivered to school on a daily basis. Their presence only served to stoke the seeds of madness. It became a competition—each girl striving to receive the most ostentatious display of love.

  No one was immune. Sadly, not even the inhabitants of room 301.

  “You’re going.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  Fleur leveled me with what I’d affectionately termed The Look. “I hate to break it to you, but he’s not going to call.”

  “He might.”

  “He told you he might have to work tonight. It’s eight o’clock. He’s not going to call.”

  As much as I hated to admit it, deep down I knew she was right. That didn’t make it suck any less. I knew the odds of spending today with Hugh were slim since he had to work, but still. A girl could dream. It was my first Valentine’s Day with a sort-of-maybe boyfriend. And besides, I needed a distraction—it was Valentine’s Day and the last thing I wanted was to see who Samir was taking out for his date.

  “I hate Valentine’s Day.”

  “Join the club.” Fleur threw a pillow at me. “That’s why you’re coming out tonight. It’ll make you feel better.”

  “Doubtful.” I had visions of stuffing my face with Magnum bars and watching movies about other people finding love.

  “The Valentine’s Day party is the highlight of the school’s social season.”

  “You say that about all the events.”

  “Well, this time it’s true.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “You’re going.”

  “Why?”

  Fleur paused, her expression clouded. “Last year Costa and I spent Valentine’s Day in Paris. This year he’s probably celebrating it the same way with his new girlfriend. I don’t feel like being by myself tonight.”