I See London 1

by Chanel Cleeton

  Her voice was so soft, weak. “I think I just wanted to hold onto Costa for as long as possible.” A tear fell down her cheek. “I didn’t just lose him. I lost our baby.”

  “I had no idea. I’m so sorry for everything I ever said—”

  She waved me off. “There’s no way you could have known. I know I’ve been crazy lately.”

  “I think that’s understandable.” I released her and walked to the edge of Fleur’s hospital room, stopping in front of the large window. Below us the streets of Chelsea were crowded, filled with people on their way home from work. It was still light out, if you could call the gray mist covering the city light.

  It fit my mood perfectly. I turned away from the window.

  “Are you angry with me? I’m sorry you had to deal with everything..”

  “No.” My tone was emphatic. “I was just scared. Really, really scared. You’re my closest friend here. You and Mya. I just couldn’t imagine—”

  “I know.” Fleur swallowed tightly. “I didn’t do it on purpose, you know. I wasn’t trying to do anything. I just wanted to forget for a while. I just wanted a break.”

  “I know.” I leaned over, sitting back on the edge of her bed. I reached out, squeezing her hand in mine. I echoed the words Michael had told me. “You’re going to be okay, Fleur. I promise you, somehow you’ll be okay.”

  “I’m starting to think so.” She ran her free hand through her hair. “My parents are sending me to a spa retreat in St. Tropez for the summer. They think that will help out a bit.”

  “There are worse places you can end up.”

  “True. I’m hoping for hot masseurs.” Her voice cracked. “Are we still friends? Is everything okay with us? I know how you feel about drugs…”

  I squeezed her hand. “You don’t even have to ask that. Of course we’re still friends.”

  “Then will you be my roommate next year? I was thinking maybe you, me and Mya could get a triple.”

  We had discussed it all semester, but it wasn’t something we had decided on. “Yeah. Sounds good to me.”

  Fleur smiled weakly. “Next year is going to be our year. I can feel it.”

  “I sure hope so.” I leaned over the bed and gave her a hug. “Take care, Fleur. Have a good summer. If you need to talk about things, let me know.”

  “You, too.”

  * * *

  “Hey, Maggie.”

  I stood in the hall, waiting for the elevator. I had left Fleur in her room when the nurses came in to give her the next round of meds. George walked toward me, a bouquet of pale yellow roses in hand. “What are you doing here?”

  A faint flush crossed his cheeks. He pointed toward the flowers. “These are from Residence Life. For Fleur. I’m just the messenger.”

  I studied him, my gaze shifting from the flowers to the embarrassed expression on George’s face.

  “Do you think she can see people?” He shifted his weight uncomfortably. “I don’t want to bother her or anything. I can come back another time. Or just give these to you to give to Fleur.” He thrust the flowers out at me.

  I stared at the yellow roses. They were elegant and lovely. They were so Fleur. I cocked my head to the side, my curiosity piqued. “Who picked out the roses?”

  George hesitated for just a beat too long. “Well, I did. I just guessed what I thought she might like best.”

  “I think they’re perfect. Very Fleur.”

  And then it all clicked into place. George was totally into Fleur.

  George looked toward the empty doorway. “I guess I should go in then.”

  He looked terrified. I offered up a silent prayer to the heavens. Be gentle with him, Fleur. I leaned over and pressed a swift kiss to his cheek. “You’re a good guy.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” he protested. “They’re just flowers.”

  “It’s more than the flowers.”

  George’s gaze focused to a point off to my right. My gaze shifted.

  Samir walked down the hall toward us. I heard George say goodbye and wish me a good summer before he headed in to see Fleur. His words barely registered with me. I couldn’t stop looking at Samir. He wore the same jacket he had put over my shoulders the night before. He stopped a few feet away from me, his gaze on mine.

  “Should I be jealous?”

  “What?”

  Samir nodded toward the doorway. “You and George.” His tone was teasing. But his eyes seemed to contradict his voice.

  I rolled my eyes, struggling to keep things light, easy. “He’s a friend.”

  “Maybe I like being the only friend you kiss,” Samir teased.

  My face flushed in response. I didn’t bother responding to that.

  Samir gestured toward Fleur’s room. “How is the patient doing?”

  “She seems better.” I hesitated. “Maybe wait for a bit before going in there.”

  Samir paused, his eyebrow raised as it clicked for him. “George? Residence Life George? Really?”

  I grinned at the surprise in his voice. “You never know. Stranger things have happened.”

  “True.” He shook his head. “Still. Sorry but I just can’t see my cousin going for George.”

  “George is nice.”

  “George is boring,” Samir countered playfully.

  “Maybe Fleur needs boring right now. Maybe we all need boring right now.” Part of me wanted to tell him about the baby. He loved Fleur and she needed all the friends she could get right now. But it wasn’t my secret to tell.

  Samir studied me quietly before speaking. “You holding up okay? Did Michael stop by?”

  I nodded, running a hand through my hair. “Yeah. Thanks for that, by the way. He helped. I’m fine, Just tired. I’ve been packing all day. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

  “When is your flight?”

  “Tomorrow morning at ten.”

  “I leave tomorrow, too.”

  “Going back to Beirut or Paris?”

  “Beirut. I’m going to see my girlfriend.”

  My heart sank. I tried to pretend his answer didn’t affect me.

  “What about you? You still going out with that British guy? Are you spending your last night in London with him?”

  My heart pounded. “No.”

  “No, you’re not going out with him, or no, you’re not spending your last night with him?”

  A pause filled the hallway. “Both.” I couldn’t look up to gauge his reaction. I stared down at my feet instead.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  My heart thudded. “Nope.”

  I dragged my gaze away from my feet to look at him. At the same time, Samir turned away. He jerked his head toward Fleur’s room again.

  “Did you get to see her for long?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “Yeah, for a bit. She says she’s fine. Physically the doctor seems to think she’s doing well enough to go home soon. Her parents are flying her back to France tomorrow.”

  “Emotionally?”

  “Not so good.” I hesitated. “It wasn’t intentional—”

  “I know.”

  My eyes narrowed, my tone sharpening. “I want to kill him. She needed him and apparently he never gave a shit about any of it.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. I don’t think Costa is going to be bothering Fleur anymore.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Let’s just say I taught him a lesson.”

  “Did you fight him?”

  Samir’s lips pulled back into a fierce grin.

  “Are you hurt?” I couldn’t keep the concern out of my voice. My hand reached out of its own volition, searching his face for any sign of bruising. I touched his chest, my fingers brushing against the fabric of his jacket.

  Samir’s eyes widened slightly. He didn’t speak. I jerked my hand back.

  “Sorry.”

  I doubted his girlfriend liked other girls touching him. I shoved my hands in my jeans pockets, staring down at the cheap
hospital floor.

  “Are you around later?”

  I jerked my head up. I nodded wordlessly.

  Something flickered in his eyes. “Good. Maybe I’ll see you around.” The words were casual enough. But his eyes—

  There was a world of promise in those brown eyes.

  Chapter 49

  I retreated to the common room, takeout sushi and a bottle of wine in hand. It wasn’t Krispy Kreme but it would do; besides, the memory of going to Harrods for doughnuts would forever be inextricably linked with finding Fleur lying unconscious on the floor. Tonight I needed another kind of release.

  My bags were packed and ready to go. Our room was stripped of any sign that we had all been there. It was depressing to see it so empty and the memories in room 301 were too much to bear. The common room had seemed like the best place to spend my last night alone in London.

  I definitely wasn’t sitting here waiting for Samir.

  “Want some company?”

  My heart pounded. I took a swig from the bottle of wine, turning to face the doorway. Samir stood in the entrance, wearing a black shirt and jeans. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets.

  He hesitated for a moment, standing in the doorway.

  “Sure.”

  I didn’t know what I was doing, but I didn’t want to be alone tonight. No, that wasn’t entirely true—I wanted to be with Samir.

  I gestured toward the screen in front of me. “Want to watch TV?”

  Samir hesitated in the doorway for another moment before coming into the room. “Why not?”

  Hands shaky, I tossed him the remote. It completely missed the mark, bouncing off one of the sofa cushions on the couch opposite mine.

  Samir grinned. “Smooth move.”

  “Are you going to play nice today?” I hadn’t intended for my tone to be flirtatious, but somehow it came out that way. The air fairly sparkled with some unspoken tension.

  He cocked his head to the side, as if considering my question. “Sure, why not.” He turned his attention to the TV screen. “What’re we watching?”

  I shrugged. I hadn’t been paying attention to the movie in front of me. “You pick something. I’m cool with whatever.”

  Samir leaned over and grabbed the remote off the other sofa, flipping around between the channels. He closed the space between us, coming to sit next to me. “Is this okay?”

  I gazed at the screen. An action movie flickered in the background. Mindless entertainment was exactly what I needed. “Works for me.” I held out the nearly empty wine bottle. “Want some?”

  Samir took the bottle from me, taking a long swig. His face scrunched up. “Ugh. What is this crap?”

  “It’s chardonnay.” I frowned at him. It hadn’t been that bad. “The guy at the wine shop down the street said it was the best Chilean wine they had.”

  He grimaced. “This stuff is shit.”

  My eyes narrowed. “It isn’t shit. Some of us don’t go around drinking thousand-dollar bottles of champagne.”

  I knew I was being petty, but I had been spoiling for a fight with someone since Hugh broke up with me and Fleur wound up in the hospital. Besides, fighting with Samir seemed like a better idea than the other things I was thinking of doing with him.

  Samir rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” His Rolex glinted under the harsh fluorescent light as he pulled out a cigarette, holding it out to me.

  “Want one?”

  I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “No, thanks. No lung cancer for me.”

  “Suit yourself.” He pulled out a fancy-looking silver lighter.

  “You aren’t seriously going to smoke in here?”

  Samir paused, the cigarette in midair. “Why not? School’s out. No one is around. I doubt the administration is going to freak if I light up.”

  “There are fire alarms.” I raised my gaze up to the ceiling to illustrate my point.

  Samir laughed. “You really are a good girl, aren’t you? The fire alarms don’t work. Just like everything else in this school, they’re there for show. I’ve done it plenty of times.”

  He held the lighter to the edge of the cigarette until the paper lit up. He took a long, slow drag, smoke filling the room. The fire alarms remained silent.

  I bristled, his words hitting way too close to home. “I’m not a good girl.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m not. Just because I haven’t screwed half the student body doesn’t mean I’m a good girl. Maybe I just have standards.”

  “I have standards.”.

  “Really? I seem to remember some rumors flying around about you and Bianca earlier in the semester.”

  As far as barbs went, it was kind of a cheap shot.

  Samir groaned. “You should know better than to believe everything you hear. Especially here. I gave her a ride home after class one day. It was nothing.”

  “Because of the girlfriend?”

  Another shrug. Followed by a long pause. I waited for his answer, all of my concentration focused on Samir.

  “Not really. Layla and I haven’t been serious for that long. A couple weeks at most.”

  I turned to face him, full of annoyance at the cavalier attitude of the entire male sex and just drunk enough to want to make a point of things. “Let me get this straight. You have a girlfriend. Who is apparently enough of a girlfriend that you’re going to visit her in Beirut. But apparently not enough of a girlfriend to factor into your decision-making on whether or not you should hook up with some other girl.”

  Samir’s lips twisted into a grin. “Pretty much, yeah.”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  He shrugged. “I’m a guy.” His gaze lingered on me for a moment. “Besides, you’re one to talk—what about the British guy?”

  I wasn’t touching that one with a ten-foot pole.

  I grabbed the bottle of wine, taking another swig. Okay, he was right. It wasn’t the best wine. But it was cheap. And given the sad state of my bank account right now, cheap was good.

  Samir turned up the volume of the TV, effectively terminating the conversation. His shoulder brushed against mine. We sat there like that for an hour, passing the bottle of wine between us. I barely paid attention to the movie, my thoughts drifting between my conversation with Samir and my break up with Hugh. I didn’t get guys. I’d never really thought I did, but now, after this year, I realized just how utterly clueless I was.

  Samir lowered the volume on the TV, turning to face me. I could feel the full weight of his attention on me. “What happened with the British guy?”

  I froze. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Why? I thought you really liked him.” There was intensity behind those words. “I thought he was the one. I thought you’d want to spend you last night in London with him.”

  I blushed. The words just came out. “He broke up with me because I wouldn’t have sex with him. Partly.” I sucked in a deep breath, not quite believing I was going to share this much with him. Somehow I plowed through. “He said it was the age difference. And I’m sure that was part of it. But the sex thing was part of it, too. Even if he couldn’t admit it. And he had this ex-girlfriend who had perfect hair.” My eyes narrowed. “Does your girlfriend have perfect hair? I bet she does.”

  Samir chuckled softly. “How drunk are you?”

  “I’m not drunk,” I protested, glaring at him.

  “Good.”

  It was a moment before Samir spoke, but when he did—

  Samir’s voice was low, his tone strained. “Why wouldn’t you have sex with him?”

  The TV was muted now. I stared at the flickering images on the screen, unwilling to meet his gaze. I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation.

  “I don’t know. He was hot. Like seriously, seriously hot. Tall and built and hot. Really, really hot.”

  “I get it.” His voice was terse.

  I ran a hand through my hair, fidgeting with the ends. “I liked him—a lot. And I tried.” Emba
rrassment crept into my voice. Everything came tumbling out now. “I bought lingerie from that store on High Street Ken. But every night I thought to myself, Okay, this is the night, nothing happened. We kissed and stuff. But I could never move past that.” I shook my head. “I knew he was getting frustrated with me. I knew it was only a matter of time before I lost his attention. And I just couldn’t make myself do it. And then we saw his ex…” My voice trailed off bitterly. “It all just fell apart.”

  For a moment Samir didn’t say anything. When he finally did speak, all I could see was the profile of his face.

  “You shouldn’t feel pressured into having sex with someone.”

  Confusion filled me. I never expected to hear something like that from Samir.

  “It’s a good thing you didn’t have sex with him. It sounds like it wasn’t what you really wanted.”

  Why did everyone keep saying that?

  “I did want it,” I protested.

  Samir shook his head. “Sorry, but I don’t buy it. I don’t think you did. I’ve known you for what—almost a year now? Maybe you came here shy and feeling out of place. But that’s not who you are anymore. If you’d really wanted to have sex with this guy, you would have.” I blinked. “Trust me. You dodged a bullet on this one. You don’t want to have sex with some guy you aren’t that into.”

  I laughed—a harsh, jaded sound that filled the common room. “That’s a little rich coming from you.”

  “Believe what you want.” Tension sparked between us; the air now visibly shimmered with it. “You should expect more from some guy than having to fight for his attention. Don’t sell yourself short. You deserve more. You deserve everything.”

  I had nothing. I just sat there staring at him. “Why?” I whispered, knowing it was the one question I shouldn’t be asking. I was starting something, something I had no business starting. Something I doubted I could see all the way through.

  The question hung between us.

  Samir’s eyes flared with heat. I watched the slow simmer before his lips curved and his face relaxed. “You’re a good girl. You deserve better than a one-night stand.”

  So we were back to that.

  “I only get involved with girls who can handle it. Someone like you will end up getting attached. I’m just looking for fun. Some girls are okay with that. But you aren’t one of those girls. You wouldn’t settle. You’re the kind of girl who deserves something better than a guy who just wants sex. You deserve better than a guy like him…hell, you deserve better than a guy like me. You need a good guy. A guy who will treat you right. A guy who can give you what you want, what you need.”