“So what you’re saying is that Samir is yours.”
“Not like that,” she corrected me.
“Well, whatever you think, you’re wrong. I can’t stand him most of the time. He’s a pain in the ass and he seriously needs to be taken down a peg or two. I’m not trying to screw up your little best-friends-forever vibe you have going on. Seriously. I’d just like to not be saddled with a roommate who loathes me for the rest of the year. I thought we had fun tonight. And at Cobalt. You have your moments where you’re almost nice.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Can we have a truce? Please? It’s going to be a really long year if we keep this up. Not to mention the fact that I’m getting really sick of taking your shit.”
Fleur was silent for a moment and then her lips curved into a smile. “Fine. You can be part of the group.”
“That’s it?” Maybe Samir had been right about the show no fear thing.
“Like I said, you’re not that bad.” Coming from Fleur that sounded like the highest of compliments.
I laughed. “Really? You sure about that?”
She grinned. “Yeah. I am.”
Chapter 12
Fall came to London, the leaves in Hyde Park changed, the weather turned cooler and I adjusted fully to the rhythm of life at the International School.
Noora and I became closer. Instead of going out, I stayed in with her, watching movies in the common room and eating my way through British candy. Sometimes Fleur joined us. After our common-room truce, things more or less improved with her. Slowly at first and then somehow, as unlikely as it was, we sort of became friends. As roommates the three of us got along pretty well. Our interests were different enough that we each had our own space.
For the first time since I had gotten to the International School, I finally felt like I belonged. I had a solid group of friends now, and little by little I was starting to get to know everyone. In high school I never quite felt like I fit in. Here I hit my stride. My love life, on the other hand?
Sucked.
He didn’t call. Two weeks passed with no word from Hugh, not even a text. And I checked my phone. Constantly. But every time my phone rang it wasn’t him. I finally gave Hugh his own ringer to cut down on the agony that came up every time my phone went off.
It didn’t help.
I knew on some level I could have called him. Mya was solidly in the camp that I should, whereas Fleur said something about me losing all the power if I did and advised against it. I listened to Fleur. It wasn’t that I believed she was some sort of guy whisperer so much as it was that I just couldn’t call him.
I tried.
But every time I pulled his number up on my phone, and my finger hovered over the send button, I chickened out. Just like I’d chickened out on the offer to go back to his place that night at Babel. My lack of experience with guys was catching up with me. And I felt totally out of my league.
I didn’t bother with the club scene. I figured I’d done something wrong that night at Babel—I hadn’t kissed well enough, I should have gone back to Hugh’s place with him. I had cocked it all up and now here I was sitting in the common room on a Friday night eating Krispy Kreme doughnuts we massively overpaid for at Harrods. I was in my own form of purgatory.
“This is pathetic.” Mya tossed the television remote to me.
“What’s pathetic?”
My head jerked up at the sound of Samir’s voice. He walked into the common room, a bottle of Jack Daniel’s in hand.
Fleur eyed the bottle greedily. “You better share,” she warned.
Samir handed the bottle over.
Fleur took a long swig of the liquid before passing it over to Mya. She took a few sips from the bottle, wiping stray drops of whiskey from her mouth.
“So what’s pathetic?” Samir repeated, flopping down on the couch next to me.
I stiffened. Why did he always have to sit next to me? The Samir sex dreams had tapered off a bit, but I still didn’t feel totally comfortable in his presence. And I knew he knew it. He was always taking little opportunities to brush his arm against mine in class or for his foot to touch mine under the desk. His little not-so-accidental touches drove me insane.
Mya groaned. “Us. We’re pathetic. Here it is Friday night. In London, no less, and we’re hanging out in the common room watching movies.”
Samir’s eyebrows rose. “No hot dates?”
“Fuck off.” Fleur shot him a dirty look. “Trust me. You don’t want to go there.”
I winced.
Guys were definitely not the topic to bring up around Fleur right now. I still couldn’t figure out the deal with her and Costa. Despite our budding friendship, Fleur wasn’t big on sharing her feelings. And Mya didn’t seem to know a lot about the breakup. But whatever had happened between them, Fleur was clearly devastated. For the life of me I couldn’t figure out how someone like her ended up in knots over a guy. Sure, Costa was hot, but was it really worth it?
I wanted no part of her particular brand of heartache.
Friday night had become Bitch About Guys Night, which Mya graciously joined for solidarity with the cause. To say Samir’s presence was unwelcome was a massive understatement.
“What about that guy you were making out with at Babel?”
It took me a second to realize Samir was talking to me. I glared at him. “Shhhuut up.” The words slipped out in an awkward tumble.
He blinked in surprise, a slow smile unfolding on his lips. “Are you guys all trashed?”
I flipped him off.
“Go away, Samir,” Fleur called out, handing the bottle over to me. I flashed her a grateful smile. I took a swig, wincing at the overpowering alcohol. “We’re having a boy-hate session and since you have a penis, you are definitely not welcome.”
I sputtered, wiping at the whiskey spilling from my mouth. That was a part of Samir’s body I definitely didn’t want to think about.
Samir grinned, leaning back into the couch. Other guys would probably run from the kind of crazy we were spewing. He looked perfectly at home.
“No way. This is much too entertaining.” He turned toward Fleur. “I don’t have to ask why you’re upset. I’ve seen the way Costa has been with his girlfriend.” Fleur’s expression darkened. “But I’m curious to hear what has Maggie upset.”
“Maggie’s fine.” My words were slurred. And I had just referred to myself in the third person.
Samir’s eyes widened. “Maggie doesn’t seem fine.”
He sounded positively gleeful.
“Well, I am,” I bit out angrily, handing the bottle of whiskey back to him. Liquid sloshed over the top of the container.
“Boy troubles?”
“Boys are assholes.” I was outrageously drunk.
Samir leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “Do tell.”
Fleur sighed. “He might be helpful,” she mused, whispering conspiratorially at me. “And he’s obviously not going away.” The last bit was delivered with a pointed look at Samir.
Which he ignored. Of course.
Samir shrugged, leaning back on the sofa. His arm draped behind my head. “It’s up to you. You need guy advice. I’m a guy.”
I didn’t trust him at all. I didn’t need my pathetic love life to become fodder for the International School gossips. It had been two weeks, though. Desperation set in. Besides, being quasi friends with Samir seemed safer than anything else we could be.
The whiskey loosened my tongue. “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kick your ass.”
Samir rolled his eyes. “Sure.”
I ignored his response. He wasn’t that big a guy. I was pretty certain that with the right incentive, and anger fueling me, I could take him.
Maybe.
Samir glanced at his watch. I caught the word Rolex as his wrist turned.
“Are you going to share or what?”
“Fine. Yes. I’m upset about the guy from Babel. He hasn’t called.”
“Hmm.”
He definitely sounded bored.
“She should call him, right?” Mya suggested from across the room.
“No. Terrible idea,” Samir scoffed.
“See, I told you.” Fleur smiled triumphantly.
“Why shouldn’t I call him?” I hadn’t wanted to originally, but now that two weeks had gone by I was seriously wondering if I would ever see Hugh again. My pride seemed to be a little thing to hang in the balance.
“Because you’ll look pathetic.”
My gaze was skeptical. “Is that your interpretation or guy code?”
“Mine and guy code. Trust me. No guy wants a girl who throws herself at him. We like the chase.”
“Right. That’s why you let girls sit on your lap and make out with them. I didn’t see much of a chase going on then.”
“Jealous?” he teased.
I glared back.
“Those girls are different. I’m guessing you want to be a girlfriend and not just a random hookup. Different rules apply.”
I groaned. “This is impossible.” It shouldn’t be this difficult to figure out how to handle a guy. If he liked me, he should call. If he didn’t like me then he shouldn’t have made out with me and asked for my number. A horrible thought hit me—
“Ohmigod, am I just like those girls you were making out with at Babel? Is that all I was to him?” I buried my head in my hands. The room spun a bit.
“Do not compare yourself to those girls,” Fleur ordered. “Those girls were disgusting.” She shot Samir a look.
Samir shrugged. “From what I saw, you were all over him.” There was an edge to his words.
“Samir!” Annoyance flashed across Fleur’s face.
My eyes narrowed. The words just popped out of my mouth. “Your shrug is bullshit.”
Samir stared at me, blinking twice. “What did you say?”
I had a tenuous grasp on my dignity but I could have cared less. He was pissing me off. “Your. Shrug. Is. Bullshit.” I carefully enunciated each syllable, my stare defiant. Samir’s shoulders began to shake, his body erupting into full-on laughter.
I crossed my arms over my chest and frowned. “It’s not funny.”
He grinned. “It really is. You’re so American it’s adorable.”
“News flash, I am American,” I snapped.
“Well, my shrug is a French thing,” he countered smoothly.
“Fleur doesn’t shrug.”
“Fleur’s a girl.”
“Besides, you’re only half-French.”
He shrugged at me.
Fleur and Mya dissolved into giggles.
“My cousin can be a pain in the ass,” Fleur called out, in between bouts of laughter.
I froze. Cousin?
“Are you joking?” My gaze darted to Fleur and back to Samir. “The two of you are cousins? How?” I sputtered.
They didn’t even look alike.
“Our mothers are cousins. They’re both French,” Fleur volunteered. “So technically we’re second cousins. But still. Family.”
Mya shook her head. “How did I never know that?”
Samir winked at me. “I’m the black sheep of the family.”
“That I can believe,” I muttered.
Samir let out another shout of laughter.
“I’m glad I amuse you,” I shot back tartly. I couldn’t believe I’d kissed this asshole. Then it hit me. The Jack Daniel’s spoke to me again. Samir kissed me. He wasn’t just an opportunity to ask for guy advice. It was even better. He was the only person who could give me feedback on what I’d done to turn Hugh off. If I had the guts to ask.
An hour later Mya and Fleur decided they were tired and headed to bed. Samir hung back, flipping between TV channels before settling on a soccer—excuse me, football—match. I studied him carefully, trying to pretend I wasn’t. My heart pounded wildly in my chest.
Was I really going to do this?
At this point it seemed like I had little to lose. I was pretty sure I’d given up my sanity a long time ago.
“Can I ask you something?”
Samir set down the remote, facing me. “Sure. What’s up?”
I sucked in a deep breath. “That night we kissed—” My voice was barely above a whisper. “Do you think my kissing maybe has something to do with why I haven’t heard from Hugh?”
I blamed the alcohol.
Samir leaned in closer to me, his face inches away from mine, our lips nearly touching.
A shiver slid down my spine.
“Yes.”
Chapter 13
“I think you need kissing practice.”
He did not just say that. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.” Samir grinned. “I’m just saying. If you want to be good at it…”
“I don’t want it that badly.” This was horrible.
“Suit yourself. It’s your loss.” He winked at me, moving closer and wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I was too upset to shake it off.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“How about this—why don’t you explain the problem to me?”
“Fuck off.”
Samir chuckled. “There’s that attitude.”
“Why are you such an ass?”
“Why are you so uptight?” he countered.
I got up from the couch.
Samir sighed. “Fine. Come back. I’ll help you.” He paused meaningfully. “After all, I have some firsthand knowledge of your kissing style.”
My hand froze on the doorknob. I whirled around. “If you tease me—if you tell anyone about this—I swear I’ll make your life a living hell.”
I wasn’t sure how I could make good on my threat, but he didn’t need to know that. The smile tugging at the corner of his mouth suggested he wasn’t as afraid of me as I would like.
I walked back to the couch, sitting on the end, putting some distance between us.
“From what I remember, your kissing skills are fine.”
My eyes narrowed. “Fine?” That hardly sounded promising.
“Yeah. You weren’t a bad kisser or anything. For the most part you seemed to know what you were doing.”
“What do you mean ‘for the most part’?”
“I mean sure I could tell you weren’t super experienced kissing guys. But it wasn’t bad or anything.”
He didn’t even have the good grace to look embarrassed by his words.
“It was my first kiss,” I mumbled miserably, staring down at the worn sofa fabric. I regretted every time I’d turned down Jo’s offers to go to a party in high school. Maybe then I wouldn’t be in this mess.
Samir’s eyes narrowed. “I was your first kiss?”
“Yes.”
Why had I thought this was a good idea? Why couldn’t the floor just swallow me up?
“I kind of like that,” he announced after a long pause.
I rolled my eyes. “That’s just great. Amazingly enough, feeding your ego wasn’t exactly on the top of my to-do list this evening. Can we please move on to more important things?”
“So you’re not experienced. I think we’ve hit on the problem.” He paused. “Who else have you kissed? Besides me?”
The blush deepened. “Just Hugh.”
“And he’s older?”
“A lot older.”
“Then you have a problem.”
“No shit. That’s why I’m talking to you.”
Samir sighed. “Okay, fine. Look. Just don’t freak out. Kissing is about attraction. Just go with it and you’ll be fine.”
I blushed. It felt weird talking about this with Samir. But this was what friends did. And being friends seemed safer than the other thing…
Mya’s words came back to me…
Samir has bad idea written all over him.
“Attraction isn’t exactly the problem. It’s more of a technique issue. I just don’t know what to do. Or where to put my hands,” I offered lamely, realizing how ridiculous
I sounded. “I thought I did, but what if I’ve been doing it wrong the whole time?”
Samir’s grin widened. “I can definitely help you with that. Come here.”
I stilled. “No.”
Samir rolled his eyes. “Stop being a drama queen. You want to learn how to kiss? Come here.”
I felt like Eve being tempted by the serpent. I hesitated for a second, his offer lingering. “You can’t tell anyone about this.” I hesitated. “Or what happened before. And it’s just this once—”
I closed the gap between us.
“The kissing lessons?”
“Yes, fine. Whatever you want to call them. Just this once. This is not a thing.”
He grinned wickedly. “Fine.”
Against my better judgment, I moved closer, like a moth to a flame. Our faces were inches apart. Having him this close made it hard to think.
“Kiss me.”
I blinked. Was he joking?
“Kiss me,” Samir repeated, his tone lazy.
I shoved against his chest. “You’re not helping. Be serious.”
“I am being serious. You want to learn how to kiss? Kiss me. Knowing how to initiate a kiss is just as important as knowing how to receive one. It’s not enough to be seduced, you need to know how to seduce.”
My hands remained on his chest, my fingers curled into the fabric of his black sweater. Curled into his warmth. Up close, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to study Samir. His eyes were a dark coffee color, framed by ridiculously thick, long lashes. Dark curls of hair brushed against his collar. His skin was tan, certainly far tanner than my own pale skin. He was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.
“Scared?” he teased.
Yes.
I was tired of being ruled by my fear and nerves. I closed the gap between our lips, lingering just a breath away from kissing him. My hand traveled north, releasing my grip on his sweater, moving up his neck. My fingertips brushed against his bare skin, the feeling silky smooth. My hand continued its upward path, growing bolder now, threading through Samir’s hair, loving the feel of his silky curls beneath my fingers.
He stiffened.
Our gazes met. I held the force of his stare, shocked to see desire flaring in his eyes. It was all the encouragement I needed. My lips brushed against his—hesitant, exploring, hungry. Once, twice. Samir sighed, his mouth opening slightly. His breath tingled with mine, his tongue grazing my lips. He wasn’t quite kissing me back but he wasn’t moving away either. Clearly he was going to make me work for it.
I See London Page 8