“Him?” She waved dismissively. “It’s Samir’s dealer.”
“Samir’s what?”
“His dealer. It’s no big deal. He just gets us stuff sometimes.”
“Stuff like drugs?” I didn’t bother keeping the shock out of my voice.
In South Carolina there were a fair amount of kids who smoked pot, but it wasn’t anything I ever considered. The smell was gross and I wasn’t willing to risk my future on a lapse of judgment or a moment of insanity.
“Is Samir buying drugs right now?”
Fleur shrugged, seemingly nonplussed. “I don’t know. Maybe. Why?”
I gaped at her. “Are you kidding me? I’m not in the mood to get arrested and deported for getting caught with drugs. Maybe you guys have parents who will buy you high-priced lawyers and get you off with just a slap on the wrist, but I promise you, if I get caught my ass is in big trouble.” I stood up, smoothing my dress down over my legs. “I know it’s not a big deal to you guys, but it is to me. I’m going to head out.”
Fleur frowned. “I didn’t think you’d care that much. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I’ll go, too. You shouldn’t leave by yourself.”
“You don’t have to.”
She shook her head. “I’m not bailing on you. We’ll both leave.”
We gathered our bags and coats. Samir caught sight of us across the room. His eyes narrowing, he walked over to where we stood.
“What’s wrong? Where are you guys going?”
I stood there, not sure how to answer him. I knew drugs were part of life at the International School. Most of the kids had tons of money and ran a little wild. But up to this point, I hadn’t actually been around anything. And I didn’t want to be. A part of me was a little disappointed that Samir even had a dealer. Although given his reputation for excess, I probably shouldn’t have been surprised.
We came from completely different worlds.
“Maggie’s a little uncomfortable. We’re heading out,” Fleur volunteered.
Samir’s gaze shifted to me. “What’s wrong?”
I couldn’t look at him.
“Did something happen?”
“No. I’m fine. I’m just tired,” I lied.
“She’s uncomfortable with your dealer being here,” Fleur interjected. “Maggie doesn’t do drugs.”
Samir was silent for a second. “Okay.”
He turned away from us and walked back over to the guy. They exchanged a few words and a complicated-looking high five before the guy walked away. Samir headed back to us.
“All gone. Stay. Please.”
I stared at him, another layer of confusion piling onto my general impression of Samir. “You didn’t have to do that. I didn’t want to ruin your night or anything.”
He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Want to dance?”
I hesitated, all too aware of Fleur’s attention on us now. It seemed dangerous to be close to him. At the same time rude to refuse. And it would probably only draw attention to us.
“Sure.”
I was starting to seriously question my willpower—or lack thereof.
I followed Samir out to the dance floor, the night of the boat party rushing back to me. He was just as good a dancer as I remembered. For a minute neither one of us spoke. I wanted to thank him for what he did earlier, but I struggled to strike the balance between showing him that it meant something and not making too big of a deal about it.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Get rid of that guy.”
He smiled. “Yeah, I did.”
“Why?” Suddenly I wanted to know. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make him out. I shouldn’t have cared.
Samir has bad idea written all over him.
But a part of me wanted to know him. I wanted to know why he evoked this reaction from me, when on paper he was all wrong.
“You were uncomfortable.”
I laughed. “I thought you enjoyed making me uncomfortable.”
His lips quirked into a little half smile. “There’s uncomfortable and then there’s uncomfortable.” The word escaped in a low drawl. “I prefer the latter. Besides, you’re my friend. I would have missed you if you left.”
“We’re friends now?”
“Something like that.”
My heart thudded at his smile, the teasing tone. “You really would have missed me?”
“Sure. You’re fun to have around. And you’re pretty cute, too.” I blushed. “Are you having a good time?” His hand brushed against my back.
He moved closer to me, resting his arms at my waist, our bodies flush against each other.
“Yeah. I really shouldn’t be out, though. I’m way behind with school. The paper in Abbott’s class was kind of the final nail in the coffin.”
“You seem pretty smart. I’m sure you’ll be fine. I wouldn’t beat myself up about the paper. Everyone goes through a bit of a transition freshman year. It’s normal.”
“I don’t know anymore. I just feel…overwhelmed. I used to have all these plans. Goals for myself. I just feel like they’re slipping away little by little. I’m not even sure what I want anymore.”
“Maybe you’re too hard on yourself. I promise you, you’re smarter than most of the people at school. You’ll be fine. You don’t always have to be perfect. It’s okay to fuck up once and awhile. I should know, I do it more than most.” I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “It’s okay to have a little bit of fun. You don’t have to work all the time. You Americans could take a cue from the rest of the world. There’s nothing wrong with working hard and playing hard.”
“All work and no play?” I joked.
He grinned. “Exactly.”
He pulled me closer and my breasts brushed against his chest. It didn’t even feel intentional. Like everything between us, it just happened. I stiffened as heat flared in his eyes. I was definitely feeling uncomfortable. The casual banter we had going disappeared, replaced by something heady and powerful. I felt as if I was drugged, desire replacing all rational thought.
All it took was one look, one touch, and I was ready to throw caution to the wind. What was that if not insanity?
“We can’t do this again,” I mumbled, responding to an unspoken invitation that lingered in his hands and eyes. “Fleur’s right back there. We’re in public.”
“Do you really think that’s going to stop me? I have very fond memories of doing all sorts of things to you in public. I think you like it in public. I think you like losing control, like feeling reckless. It’s so out of character for you isn’t it? You always play it safe. But you’re learning now aren’t you, that you weren’t meant to play it safe. That you were made for more.”
With each word he unraveled something inside me. He saw too much, noticed too much, knew too much about me. He looked at me like he saw through the façade, through the image I put up for the rest of the world. I wasn’t sure I liked it.
“This isn’t a good idea.” Unfortunately my body didn’t seem to be getting the memo.
“Why?” Samir challenged, his hand stroking my back. “One reason.”
I could give him one hundred.
I was too chicken to tell him the real reason—that I was scared he was going to hurt me, in a way I wouldn’t recover from. He wasn’t an easy guy to get close to. I was beginning to realize there was more there, a lot more, than was obvious at first glance. The flashiness of him was intimidating enough, but the other stuff? The heat that flared when he looked at me? The fact that I actually maybe-kind of-sort of liked who he was?
That was terrifying.
Being with him felt as though I was sinking deeper and deeper into quicksand.
I was scared that if I wasn’t careful, I wouldn’t be able to get out.
“Maggie…” Samir’s voice trailed off as his gaze drifted to a point over my shoulder. His body stiffened, his expression changing. He released me. Confusion filled me. His eyes
were different, colder now, as if someone had flipped a switch.
The foolish part of me wanted the heat back. Yearned for it.
“Your guy is here.”
I froze in the middle of the dance floor. “What?”
“That guy from Babel is here.”
Feeling like everything was going in slow motion, I turned around. There he was, standing near the bar, clad in a gray suit. Our eyes caught across the room. A slow smile spread across Hugh’s face.
I couldn’t make my lips do the same.
I was happy to see Hugh. Surprised to see him. I was a lot of things I couldn’t quite name.
I turned back and Samir was gone.
Chapter 16
I stood by myself in the middle of the dance floor. Hugh crossed the distance between us. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to both my cheeks.
“Sorry I haven’t called.” Hugh’s expression was sheepish.
He looked so cute, so quintessentially British, that it tugged at me a bit.
“It’s okay.” Part of me—the part that spent the past few weeks obsessing and wondering why he didn’t text—knew I was letting him off too easily. But right now he seemed like the lesser of two evils.
“Do you want to get out of here? We can grab a late dinner or something.”
I hesitated. Things felt unresolved with Samir. Part of me wanted to go after him and finish the conversation we’d started. But what was the point? After all, Hugh was here and Samir had walked away.
“That sounds perfect.”
We walked over to my friends. I told Fleur bye, struggling not to laugh as she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively behind Hugh’s back.
Samir was still nowhere to be found.
We walked outside, the cool London air hitting us with a blast.
“Let me just get the valet to grab my car.”
We waited in front of the club. Hugh wrapped his arm around me, pulling me against his body. He took my hands, cupping them together, blowing warm air against my skin.
“Warmer?”
I nodded.
He pressed soft kisses to my face while we waited for the car. We broke apart, Hugh wrapping his arms around me, gathering me against his tall frame. It felt so good to have his arms around me. I felt comfortable. Safe. Nothing like when I was in Samir’s arms.
Hugh nodded toward the valet. “Here we are.”
I turned and my jaw dropped.
A bright red Ferrari pulled up to the curb—a convertible.
The guys in my high school were obsessed with cars. I hadn’t made it through four years in South Carolina without seeing my share of car magazines. That was how I knew that I was staring at a 458 Spider.
Hugh walked over to the passenger side, opening the door for me. I slid onto the dark leather, my pulse racing. This was the single coolest moment of my life. It was one of those moments I wished I could freeze and take a picture of before anyone would be the wiser.
It more than made up for all of those years of sitting on the sidelines.
Hugh strode in front of the car, sliding into the driver’s seat. He flashed me a grin. Okay, he definitely knew how hot he looked in the car. He turned away from me, starting the car with a flick of his wrist. The engine revved.
I felt as if I was having an out-of-body experience. My entire high school life I had been the quiet girl, the studious girl. I was never quite a nerd, but I definitely wasn’t popular either. I’d sort of blended or been invisible.
That all felt different now.
We sped through London, the roar of the Ferrari’s engine mixing with the sound of the wind rushing around us. Every time we pulled up to a traffic light, cars honked at us, yelling for Hugh to rev the engine, telling him how cool the car was. Even in a city like London this car, and Hugh, stood out.
“Are you in the mood for French?” Hugh yelled over the roar of the engine.
“French sounds perfect.”
He maneuvered the car into a parking spot outside of a green and white awning. We were in Knightsbridge, the borough that bordered Kensington. I recognized the side street—it was just a few streets over from Harrods.
“This is one of the best French restaurants in London.”
I followed him into the restaurant. It was small and quaint, with a sort of understated elegance. A few couples sat at small tables drinking wine and eating desserts. The lighting was low, with soft music playing in the background. It was insanely romantic.
A waiter seated us at a small table in the corner, its surface covered with crisp white linen. A candle flickered on the table between us. Hugh leaned forward, reaching out to grab my hand. He turned my palm up, his finger lazily tracing patterns on my skin.
He ordered for us in French and my heart skipped a beat. His accent was nothing like Fleur’s or Samir’s, but it was still far more impressive than anything I was used to. And incredibly sexy.
It was strange—he was so much older than me and definitely way smoother than anything I was used to—and yet I didn’t feel the same rush of nerves I felt around Samir. My hands weren’t clammy, my stomach wasn’t in knots.
It was kind of nice.
Each time I saw him, I was calmer, more confident.
“How many languages do you speak?” I asked, curiosity filling me.
He shrugged. “Enough French to get by. A little Italian, too. Just stuff I picked up during my travels.”
The International School was the same way—everyone spoke a ridiculous number of languages. I felt foolish considering my barely passable Spanish skills. I doubted Hugh would be impressed by me asking him if he would like to borrow my pencil.
“I wish I spoke more languages.” I shrugged. “In the U.S. languages aren’t that big of a deal.”
Hugh grinned. “You’re too beautiful to need to speak the language. You could get by without it.”
A blush formed on my cheeks. I wasn’t stupid. It was definitely a line, and a cheesy one at that. But as far as lines went, I was pretty sure all of Hugh’s would work.
I took a sip from my wineglass, studying him carefully over the rim. “You’re really good at this, aren’t you?” My tone was casual, but somehow his answer was important to me. I had been in London long enough by now to recognize that Hugh was what might be called a player. London seemed like the kind of city where you couldn’t step without tripping over one.
His dimples flashed in a grin. “A guy has to have game.”
“Did you ever consider that you have too much game?” I teased.
“Is there ever such a thing as too much game?”
I made a face.
“Seriously. I’m single, why not?” His gaze met mine. “It’s London. London is all about going out and having a good time. London isn’t meant to be serious. It’s fun. Somewhere you can let loose, let your inhibitions go.”
Was there something in the water here?
“I just got over being in a relationship. The last thing I want right now is to feel tied down.” He took a sip of his wine, flashing me a wicked grin, his handsome face illuminated by the candlelight. “Unless the tying down involves whipped cream and handcuffs or something.”
Holy shit.
“I’m just having fun,” he continued, seemingly oblivious to the feelings his words inspired. “Everyone understands it and no one gets hurt. I’m not looking for a girlfriend or anything.”
His tone was nonchalant, the words delivered with deceptive casualness. But we both knew exactly what he was doing. He was warning me off, setting my expectations exactly where he wanted them.
Whipped cream? Fine. Relationship? Not so much.
I had no idea how to respond. His fingers still traced lazy circles on my hand. With each stroke, my skin felt as if it was on fire. The thought be careful or you’ll get burned drifted through my mind before Hugh’s lips brushed against mine and I forgot my fears.
Chapter 17
Mya groaned. “This guy is really pissing me off.”
&
nbsp; “Join the club.”
“How did the date end?” Fleur interjected.
We were hanging out at what we termed “family dinner.” Basically we got to dinner right when the dining hall opened and spent three or four hours hanging out and talking. People rotated in and out of the group, dropping in with stories about their days.
Mya, Fleur and I were the heart of family dinner.
“We finished eating—”
Mya interrupted me. “Who paid?”
“He did.”
The bill had been astronomical. If I had paid I would have depleted the majority of my London funds. As it was my semester expenses left me eating Burger King kids’ meals on the days the cafeteria closed.
Fleur nodded. “That’s a good sign, at least.”
“Well, I’m not sure it did me any good. He drove me back and gave me a quick kiss good-night.” I stabbed at the dried-out piece of chicken on my plate. “Oh, and guess what? After four days, still no phone call.”
Fleur sighed. “Because the ball is in your court.”
“What?”
“He told you. He’s looking to have fun. Now he’s waiting to see if you’re on board with just hooking up.”
I grimaced. “What exactly do you think hooking up entails?”
“He’s almost thirty, Maggie. I think hooking up in this case means sex.”
Mya glared at Fleur. “Don’t freak her out.”
“She’s not freaking me out,” I interrupted, defending Fleur. “I had already sort of figured as much.”
“So what are you going to do about it?”
“There’s a great lingerie store on High Street Ken,” Mya suggested.
I winced. I knew exactly the store she was thinking of. It had scary-looking leather corsets in the front window. “I think that might be a bit ambitious for me.”
Fleur glared at a point over my shoulder.
I turned around. “Who are we death staring at now?”
Mya rolled her eyes. “Do you seriously have to ask?”
Fleur ignored us both, her gaze laser focused on where Costa and his girlfriend, Natasha, sat at a table.
I winced. Enough was enough. I’d been watching Fleur mope over the Costa situation for months now.
I See London Page 10