As we walked toward Babel, I felt a nervous flutter in my stomach. Was Samir thinking of the last time we were here together? Because as soon as I set foot in the club, I couldn’t get the memory out of my mind. At the same time, I couldn’t help but wonder if I would run into Hugh again. It felt a bit like returning to the scene of the crime.
“Sorry it’s a little tense tonight,” Mya whispered.
I laughed. That was a massive understatement. “Why are we even here?”
“Samir called me and practically begged me to come out.”
I gaped at her. “Are you joking?” Somehow I couldn’t see Samir begging anyone for anything.
“Fleur’s not having the greatest day.”
I rolled my eyes. “Let me guess, she maxed out her credit card? Or wait, her favorite manicurist was booked? Tragedy.” I’d been living with Fleur’s iciness for weeks now and I was sick of it.
“It’s her birthday.”
I paused. “What’s so bad about that?”
“Her mom was supposed to come to London so they could spend it together. But she bailed at the last minute to go to some spa in Switzerland.”
I couldn’t help the twinge of sympathy. There was nothing worse than being disappointed by your parents.
Mya shrugged. “Fleur was all set to spend her birthday by herself, but Samir found out. I think this was his attempt to throw her a little party.”
My gaze flew to Samir. A few girls stood next to him and Omar, one of them pressing a swift kiss to Samir’s cheek.
“And he told you it was okay to invite me?”
Mya shook her head. “It was his idea. He thought you would have fun.” She grinned. “He said something about you seeming tightly wound lately? An excess of pens in class or something.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that one. He still gave me shit about the first day. At least now I was down to two.
“I don’t get why he invited me. She hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you. She just takes a bit to warm up to people. And I don’t think she has anyone else.”
“She should be nicer, then.”
“You’re right.” Mya hesitated. “But there’s more to Fleur than what you see. A lot more.”
My look was skeptical at best.
“I’m serious. I wasn’t popular in Switzerland. I was one of the only black girls and some of the girls were really snobby about me being from Nigeria. Fleur was one of the few that actually stood up for me. I’m not saying she’s sweet, but she’s not as bad as everyone makes her out to be. She has her good side. You just have to work to find it.”
Maybe it was just me, then.
The boys waved us over. The table had already filled up; four random girls sat crammed in around the guys.
Fleur fisted her hands on her hips. “Samir. Move your friends.”
Samir mumbled something that sounded unflattering but he moved the girls over, relocating one of the girls onto his lap. A waitress poured drinks for the table. By the time she finished, Samir and the girl were practically making out.
I looked away.
I didn’t know what to make of Samir. Mya’s story about Fleur’s birthday made him sound as if he was almost a decent guy. His man-whore side suggested otherwise. Sure he was young and single, but still. Why did there have to be so many girls?
Mya nudged me. “Having fun yet?”
I laughed. “Sorry, not so much.” There was a weird energy at the table tonight. Fleur was knocking back drinks, her expression hard. Samir hadn’t broken apart from his girl. Omar didn’t speak to anyone.
Fleur leaned over to Mya. “I can’t deal with this.” She jerked her head toward the girls. “I hate when he does this.” Her gaze traveled over Samir’s little harem. “They’re just here for the free drinks and the table. It makes us look bad to be seen with them. Let’s go dance.”
Mya groaned. “I’m not in the mood to dance tonight. Why don’t you find someone else?”
Samir broke apart from the girl. His gaze met mine across the table. Something lurched in my chest as I hurried to look away, afraid he would see the confusion and inexperience reflected in my eyes. If I didn’t get up from the table soon, I was going to have to leave. This was beyond awkward.
“I’ll dance with you,” I blurted out.
Mya stared at me.
Fleur looked surprised for a moment before she nodded. “Fine. Come on.” She grabbed my hand, pushing her way around the table. I followed behind her reluctantly. She stopped in front of a raised platform, on display for the whole club to see.
“Up there?”
She rolled her eyes. “Stop being such a baby. I don’t dance on the floor like everybody else.”
Of course she didn’t. I stared back at our table—Samir was still ensconced with the group of girls. What the hell. I climbed up to the platform.
“This is such a bad idea,” I muttered under my breath.
Ignoring me, Fleur began dancing to the music, moving her hips in a way I could only hope to emulate. My gaze roamed over the crowd. People were looking at us. Girls were staring at us enviously; a group of guys grinned, lifting their glasses in a silent toast. A rush of power ran through me. I moved closer to Fleur, moving my body to mimic her moves. Our hips swayed to the beat of the music, our bodies nearly flush with each other. We were putting on a show and judging by the whistles we were getting from the crowd, they liked it. A photographer came over and snapped our picture. Fleur threw her arm around me, pressing a kiss on my cheek.
The flash went off.
So this is what it was like. This is what it felt like to be wanted. To be one of the cool kids.
I fucking loved it.
I grinned at Fleur, too carried away by the moment to be pissed with her. She had a point—on top of the platform it was impossible not to feel as though you were on top of the world. She flipped her hair back, tossing me a smug little smile. She was definitely enjoying herself as much as I was. There was power here, power in being a girl, power I’d never realized before.
I was drunk on it now.
I locked eyes with Samir across the room. He sat nursing a drink, the girl finally dislodged from his lap. He wasn’t smiling. The force of his stare surprised me.
This time I didn’t look away. I met his gaze head-on, shaking my ass to the music. Fleur grabbed my hand, pulling me into a twirl—she was definitely a little drunk—and then I was facing Samir again. He hadn’t stopped staring.
I didn’t care.
I didn’t want to be the lame girl everyone walked all over—I wanted this feeling, this rush, to last forever. I jerked my gaze away from Samir, passing over the crowd until it rested on—
A very tall, hot guy in a black jacket. Hugh.
Chapter 11
Our eyes locked across the crowded club. Hugh’s lips spread into a wide grin as he nodded his head toward me.
Fleur nudged me. “Aren’t you glad you came up here and danced? Now he sees he has competition.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Look.”
I followed her gaze. Sure enough, guys were standing near the platform, watching us dancing. Hugh made his way through the crowd, walking toward the platform.
“Hi, gorgeous.”
I grinned, relishing the sound of his crisp British accent. He was so hot. And I was ready for him. “Hi.”
“Can I give you a hand?”
I took his outstretched palm, putting my hand in his. Our fingers locked as he pulled me down from the platform, one hand firmly on my waist. As I slid down, our bodies brushed against each other.
“Fancy seeing you here.”
I grinned. “I wondered if you would be here tonight.”
“I’m glad I am. Can I get you a drink?”
His hand was so much larger than mine; it was impossible not to feel tiny in his presence. I liked it. I liked everything about him. We walked to the bar together.
He ordered our drinks and
guided me to a bench near the DJ booth. He draped his arm around my shoulders, his lips just skimming my ear. His hand played with the ends of my hair, the backs of his fingers barely touching the exposed skin above my collarbone. His touch was soothing…and not. It felt like the start of something. I just wasn’t entirely sure what.
Hugh pulled back slightly, his gaze meeting mine. “I’ve been wanting to touch you since the first day we met.”
Holy shit.
“Here.” He pressed a swift kiss to my neck. “And here.” His lips grazed my skin. “And definitely here.” Hugh’s head leaned in closer, his minty breath filling my nostrils. His lips brushed against mine. I opened my mouth slightly, a sigh escaping.
It was all the invitation he needed.
Hugh deepened the kiss, his hands reaching out to pull me forward onto his lap. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling our bodies closer together. His body felt hard beneath mine and I couldn’t resist the urge to press against him, to wrap my body around his strength.
Instinctively I looped my arms around his neck, bringing our bodies in closer contact, pulling him towards me. Someone—possibly me—moaned. His hand moved from my waist, sneaking up my leg, beginning at my ankle, gradually, leisurely, traveling north.
My body burned everywhere.
Anywhere else our behavior would have earned some strange looks and—given the way his hands roamed over my body—possibly an arrest. But this was London. We were just another couple in a long line of couples making out in the nightclub. The anonymity of the dark and the music made it feel like we were in our own private world. It was so easy to get lost in his kiss.
“Come back to my place,” Hugh whispered, his hand high on my thigh.
I stilled, my heart pounding. After what must have been an hour with Hugh’s hands and lips all over my body, I felt like saying yes to anything.
“Maggie?”
I jerked away from Hugh. Mya stood behind me, a grin on her face.
“We’re about to go. Do you need a ride?”
I was a virgin. He was twenty-seven. And so obviously not a virgin. If we went back to Hugh’s place, he was going to want to pick up where we left off. And I doubted he would stop with a kiss. He was hot—and he was an amazing kisser—and I totally wasn’t ready for him.
I turned toward Hugh. “I’m really sorry, but I should go. I had a great time, though.”
“Don’t worry about it, babe.”
I was surprised at how easily he accepted it.
He pulled out a cell phone from his jacket pocket. “Why don’t you give me your number and we can go out to dinner sometime?”
Yes!
“Sure.” I struggled to keep my voice nonchalant. I pressed the number into his phone, struggling with the keys.
Hugh leaned back on the bench, his face flushed, his lips swollen. He looked every inch the satisfied male. Well, somewhat satisfied. “I’ll see you around, babe.”
I walked out of Babel, feeling as if I was walking on air.
As we gathered our stuff to leave, my gaze met Samir’s. He looked through me, turning to Fleur, not even bothering to speak English. He acted like I didn’t exist.
Was he judging me for making out with Hugh in the same spot I’d kissed him? A pang of guilt hit me. I’d never been that girl, never understood how girls could bounce from one guy to the next. I was the serious girl, the one who didn’t take things lightly, who didn’t do flings. I wanted a relationship—wanted something solid.
Inexperienced or not, Samir had unavailable written all over him. If I gave an inch, he would take my heart and put it through a blender. I’d already suffered enough disappointment at the hands of a man, thanks to my father; I didn’t need to add to my losses.
Hugh seemed different. He was a chance. One I wanted to take. With Hugh I could be someone else. I wanted that chance..
Samir didn’t speak to me the whole way home.
* * *
I couldn’t sleep.
Nervous energy poured through me. There was something about tonight. I felt as though I had become a different person, taken a chance, changed the path my life was on. It felt good.
I grabbed a book, shutting the door behind me gently so I wouldn’t wake Noora. It was still late—or early, really—we’d gotten back from the club at four a.m. I had no idea where Fleur was.
I headed down to the common room, hoping it would be empty. It was usually the site of large groups watching football (soccer) matches but hopefully there wasn’t one going on right now in any part of the world. I pushed open the door, but instead of the silence I craved, a loud voice filled the room.
Fleur sat curled up on one of the couches, on the phone, yelling in French. I’d seen her pissed off before, but I’d never seen her this angry. Suddenly she threw the phone at the wall. It bounced before hitting the floor. I watched, mesmerized, as the first tears began to fall. She sobbed, her body rocking back and forth, her body curled up in a little ball.
I couldn’t help but stare. The whole scene before me just felt surreal.
I hovered in the doorway. We weren’t friends; there was no need for me to say anything to her. She’d been cold to me from the beginning.
But she cried as though her heart had been broken. And I knew exactly how that felt.
I closed the door behind me, walking toward her. “Are you okay?”
Fleur’s chin jerked. A flush spread across her cheeks. For a moment I didn’t think she was going to answer me.
“I’m fine.”
I sat next to her on the couch, silent for a moment. “You don’t look fine.”
Her face was splotchy, tears still running down her cheeks. She laughed bitterly. “Go away.” Her lip trembled.
She may have been telling me to leave, but her eyes said otherwise. She looked lonely. Maybe Mya was right, maybe she really did just need a friend.
I sat down next to her on the couch. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Fleur laughed again. “What, we danced together—I let you hang out with us once—and now you think we’re friends?”
The words stung. But I could tell by the look in her eyes that she meant them to. She was either the biggest bitch in the world or she was hurting. And I knew a thing or two about pushing people away.
“Mya told me about your birthday. And your mom.”
She didn’t speak.
I shrugged. “I’ve been there. I’ve seen my dad a handful of times in the past five years. My mom left us when I was a kid. I barely remember her.” I threw out the words like they meant nothing, like they weren’t a part of me. It was more than I normally shared.
It was a few moments before she answered. “She’s getting a facial in Switzerland.” Fleur wiped her eyes. “I wanted her to come so badly. And she blew me off to go get a facial.”
“I’m sorry.”
Fleur shook her head. “I don’t know why I bother anymore. She does shit like this all the time.”
“What about your dad?”
“He’s even worse. He’s so busy that he doesn’t even bother with me. He didn’t call. Didn’t even send a card.”
I felt bad for her. At least I had my grandparents.
“That sucks.”
Fleur sighed. “It definitely does suck.” What might have been embarrassment flashed across her face. “There’s no need to babysit me. You can go now.”
“Okay.” I rose from the couch and headed toward the door. Halfway there, I hesitated. I turned to face Fleur. I was sick of the back and forth with her, sick of feeling like we’d finally made progress and then taking two steps backwards. “What’s your deal with me?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why do you hate me?” I asked, my tone blunt. “I didn’t do anything to you and let’s be real, you’ve kind of been a massive bitch to me. I’ve heard your rep, but still you’re nowhere near as mean to Noora or anyone else. What gives?”
“What rep?” Her eyes narrowed. “The who
le Ice Queen thing?” I nodded. “What else have you heard about me?”
Fleur was pretty much a legend around here. The rumors ranged from the bizarre to the truly unbelievable.
“You know.”
“The whole dating-an-arms-dealer thing?” I nodded. “And the French rap video?” I nodded. “And the thing about me breaking up a professor’s marriage?” I winced. That one was particularly popular.
Her tone was bored. “I got asked to be in the video when I was walking down the Champs-Élysées. I was sixteen. My parents hated the idea, so of course I had to do it. It wasn’t all that exciting. I modeled for a while in Paris because it pissed off my parents. There was never an arms dealer. And I wouldn’t touch one of these professors with a ten-foot pole.”
“Fair enough.”
She hesitated for a beat. “And I don’t hate you.”
“Right.”
She shook her head. “I don’t.” She made a face, her tone reluctant. “You were kind of fun tonight. You’re really not bad.”
I laughed, shaking my head wryly. “You really have a way with compliments. I’m going to head back to the room. Happy birthday.”
I reached the door when Fleur called out to me—
“He’s my best friend.”
I froze, my hand on the doorknob.
“He’s my best friend. He doesn’t have girl friends, doesn’t hang out with other girls. But he wants you around.”
My heart pounded in my chest. I didn’t have to ask who he was.
I turned. “Samir and I aren’t friends,” I protested.
“He likes you.”
That made me laugh. “I’m pretty sure you’re wrong about that one. I’m not taking your friend away from you. Anyone can tell you guys are close. I don’t even want to be friends with Samir.”
Fleur shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
“Is that seriously why you’ve been so tough on me?”
“I don’t share.”
There was something in the water at this school, something that made seemingly normal people thrive off of ego and status and power in a way I wasn’t sure I would ever understand.
I See London Page 7