I See London

by Chanel Cleeton

  My eyes narrowed, my gaze lingering on the flavor of the month. The petty part of me hated that she was my polar opposite. If Samir had a type, it definitely wasn’t me.

  “None of your business. But thanks for your concern, mom.”

  I knew I was being a bitch, at least I could recognize that. I just couldn’t turn it off.

  Samir shook his head, hiding those beautiful brown eyes, saying something under his breath before turning his attention back to his date. In one move he’d completely dismissed me.

  To hell with that.

  “Hey, gorgeous.”

  I jumped at the sound of Hugh’s voice. He wrapped his arm around my waist, pressing a swift kiss to my neck.

  “Do you guys have a table?” he asked.

  “We did,” Fleur commented darkly. “Excuse me.”

  Maybe this hadn’t been the best idea. There was a weird vibe in the air tonight. I hadn’t expected Samir to be here; he’d mentioned something earlier about staying in and watching a football match. The last thing I needed was for Hugh to find out about our occasional hookups. It was bad enough that Samir had seen me with Hugh. Bad enough that I had to watch Samir all over someone else.

  Definitely time for another drink.

  “Do you want to head to the bar?”

  Hugh grinned, his hand reaching out to stroke my arm. “That isn’t the first thing that comes to mind. But yeah, a drink could be good.”

  I blushed, grateful that the club’s darkness hid the stain marring my cheeks. “I’m sure there are dark corners we can check out,” I whispered playfully.

  Hugh groaned, pressing his lips against my hair. “You’re driving me crazy.”

  We headed over to the bar. Hugh ordered for both of us, exchanging small talk with the bartender.

  “Did you know him?”

  “Yeah, he applied for a job at Cobalt a few months ago. We had already filled the position, though. He’s a good guy.”

  “Do you know everyone in London?” I teased.

  “It helps to be well connected. Especially when you own a bar.”

  I couldn’t help but think there was more to it than that. I figured Hugh would be active on the London club scene even if he didn’t own the bar. He was too cool not to be. I’d never met anyone like him. He was this hot, amazing guy, but somehow he managed to look at you and make you feel as though you were amazing, too. And it wasn’t just with me. He treated everyone like that. He was genuinely a nice guy to be around.

  “Makes sense.”

  Hugh leaned down, pressing a soft kiss on my lips. “Come on, gorgeous.”

  I allowed Hugh to maneuver me over to a corner across the room from my friends. He leaned against the wall, sipping from his martini. I stood in front of him, holding my drink, feeling the beat of the music. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from his broad shoulders, that interesting patch of skin peeking out from the unbuttoned collar of his dress shirt. I sipped from my drink, the room tilting slightly. I wanted to unbutton the rest of the snowy-white buttons dotting down the front of his shirt. I wanted to see the rest of his body, feel his muscles beneath my hands.

  Fuck Samir.

  “What?” Hugh asked, tilting his head to the side. A dimple teased the corner of his mouth. I wondered if he knew the direction my thoughts had taken.

  I shook my head, jerking my gaze back to his face. “Nothing.” I leaned my body closer to his, closing my eyes at the feel of his hard body pressing against mine. “I was just thinking about how lucky I was to meet you,” I whispered, my lips inches from his.

  He grinned wolfishly. “I’m the lucky one.” He reached out, wrapping an arm around my waist, pulling me closer.

  I set my drink down on a small table, locking my arms around his neck. The height difference between us made me essentially eye level with his chest. Given how much Hugh clearly worked out, it wasn’t exactly a tragedy.

  “This is much better,” Hugh whispered in my ear, setting his drink down next to mine. His hand moved under my chin, lifting my face up so that our gazes locked. His lips traveled downward, running along the curve of my jaw before moving up toward my mouth. I giggled, the gesture sending a soft tickle through my skin.

  I opened to him instantly, allowing him to control the kiss, molding my lips and mouth in whatever shape he wanted. We stood there, groping each other, doing all the things in public I knew he would much rather do in private.

  “I want you,” Hugh murmured against my mouth.

  After making out for nearly an hour, I was all too aware of how much he wanted me. Every sense felt alive—the feel of his hard body beneath my hands, the smell of his cologne filling my nostrils, sent waves of desire through my body.

  “We can get out of here, head back to my place,” Hugh suggested, his dark eyes boring into mine. “If you want to.”

  Why was I fighting it? Hugh was hot and nice and he liked me. Why not go back to his place? Maybe we wouldn’t have sex and if we did… well there were worse ways to lose your virginity than a guy who looked like a model and sounded like Hugh Grant.

  I grinned, allowing Hugh to wrap his arms around me, pressing my body against his. He released me and my gaze surveyed the crowd. I tried to tell myself I wasn’t looking for the one person I had no business looking for—

  I found him instantly. Samir stood with his arm around the same blonde he’d been with earlier. She was saying something to him, her body pressed up against his, her hand linked with his free one.

  He wasn’t looking at her. Instead, his gaze met mine across the crowded club. It wasn’t a casual stare. His dark eyes blazed with intensity. We faced off against each other, my body tucked against Hugh’s, Samir’s arm casually wrapped around the blonde. It should have felt totally normal—we were two friends, casual ones at that—out with our respective dates. No big deal.

  It shouldn’t have made me feel like crying.

  The girl I used to be would never have gone home with Hugh. But I didn’t want to be that girl anymore.

  “Let’s go.”

  Hugh grinned. He pulled me away from the wall, leading me through the club.

  Nerves filled me. My legs felt a little shaky; I wobbled a bit in my heels. We passed by my friends.

  I couldn’t look at Samir.

  We walked out of the club, the cold London air hitting us with a blast. Hugh pressed a swift kiss to my lips. “I’ll go get the car. I’ll be right back.”

  I watched him walk away, my heart pounding. Was I really going to do this? Was I really ready? I didn’t even know anymore. But it was time for a change. Time for me to reinvent myself. Time to stop fantasizing about a guy who treated me like an afterthought.

  “Don’t do this.”

  I froze.

  The voice behind me was raw, angry—and all too familiar.

  I turned slowly, coming face-to-face with Samir.

  Chapter 26

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Don’t do this,” Samir repeated, walking toward me, his hands shoved in his pockets. “You’re drunk. Trust me, it’s a bad idea. One you’ll regret”

  “Are you kidding me? You think you have any right to lecture me on good decision-making?”

  “You’re making a mistake.”

  “So what?” I challenged. “It’s my mistake. It’s none of your business. Go away. Go back inside to whatever girl you’re screwing around with today.”

  His mouth tightened in a harsh line. “Come back inside.” He reached out and grabbed my hand, my fingers slipping through his as I jerked away.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “That’s not what you were saying a few weeks ago.”

  “Venice was a mistake.”

  “Was it? I think you’re lying.” Samir moved toward me, like a panther stalking its prey. His body grazed mine, his hips pressing against me. His voice lowered. “Tell me you want him like you want me. Tell me he makes you ache like I do. Tell me you yearn for it. Tell me he makes you lose co
ntrol like you do with me.” He leaned closer; his lips barely grazed my ear, but it was enough to be my undoing. “Tell me you don’t think of me—my kisses, my hands, my body—when you’re with him.”

  I pushed him away. My voice shook. “I don’t think of you at all.”

  “Liar,” he whispered, the sound triumphant, his expression fierce.

  I hated that he was right.

  “Don’t go with him. Don’t do this.”

  “Why? Give me one good reason.”

  “Because I want you. In my bed. Naked in my arms. Because I can’t stop wanting you. Because this thing between us hasn’t had a chance to play itself out. You can deny it all you want, but there’s something here. I know you feel it.”

  His words sent a shiver down my spine. The image of our bodies locked together entered my mind. But it wasn’t enough.

  Samir has bad idea written all over him.

  “Then what? I get, what, one, two nights as your girl of the week?” I laughed, the sound bitter, louder than I intended. “Guess what? You’re not worth it.”

  Samir looked stung. “And he is?”

  “Yeah. He is.” I met his gaze head-on. I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol stoking the fire within me or my own frustration over the back-and-forth we’d been doing for months now, but whatever it was, I wanted to lash out at him. I wanted to push him away.

  “Maggie—”

  “Go back inside.” My voice shook with anger and emotion. “Just go back inside. You want to help me? Leave me alone. Because I can’t take anymore of this. Just leave me alone.”

  I turned away, walking toward Hugh, leaving Samir behind me. I didn’t look back.

  “You okay, babe?” Hugh looked over my shoulder.

  Somehow I mustered a grin. “Yep. Let’s go.”

  I slid into the Ferrari, anger flooding me. How dare he? How dare he judge me? Samir knew nothing about me. And he was an idiot if he thought I was going to miss out on a guy like Hugh for a couple nights in Samir’s bed. Hugh took me to dinner, took me out on dates. Samir wanted to fuck me. And as good as I knew it might be—I’d seen the parade of girls.

  I couldn’t be one of them.

  And yet…those words…I want you…I couldn’t push them out. Couldn’t push him out.

  I didn’t want my first time to be like this—angry, confused, unable to get Samir out of my mind.

  We stopped at a light.

  “Maybe this isn’t such a great idea.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  I hesitated. “I leave tomorrow and I’m not sure I want to start something we aren’t going to have a chance to really finish.”

  The rest—the truth—was left unsaid. Because there, lingering somewhere in between all of my confusion, was the memory of my body wrapped around Samir’s.

  Hugh studied me carefully. A tinge of annoyance crossed his face, along with something else I was afraid to name.

  Would he lose interest if we didn’t have sex?

  “I’m sorry.”

  His expression softened. “Don’t be sorry. You’re offering me a rain check, then? Because it does sort of feel like you’re shooting me down.”

  I nodded, my lips curving at the thought of me writing out a sex IOU. “Something like that. I promise I am definitely not shooting you down. I just need more time.”

  Hugh leaned over, capturing my lips in another devastating kiss. “Why do I think you’re going to keep me on my toes, Maggie?”

  I blushed. “Is that such a bad thing?”

  My heart pounded as silence yawned between us.

  Hugh leaned down and whispered in my ear. “I have a feeling you’ll be worth waiting for. And I can’t wait to collect on that rain check.”

  Chapter 27

  “Three, two, one…happy new year!”

  I stared at the TV, watching the glittery ball drop in Times Square. It was depressing as hell to ring in the New Year by myself.

  My grandparents had lasted until ten before going to bed. Jo and I were supposed to hang out together but she got sick, leaving me with a New Year’s Eve special hosted by a pop star I’d never even heard of.

  If I were in London right now, I’d probably be out at some fabulous club with my friends. In South Carolina I sat by myself in a pair of ratty old pajamas.

  Four more days.

  My phone beeped. I leaned over, grabbing my cell off the table.

  Happy New Year xxxx

  It was a British cell number, but not one I recognized.

  Thanks. Happy New Year. Who is this? I hit send and waited for a response.

  A minute later—

  Samir…what are you wearing? Xxx

  I burst out laughing. Classic Samir. It had only been a few weeks since I’d last seen him, but I missed him. Even despite our fight. I missed joking around with him—no one else gave me shit like he did and no one else made me want to throw it back. I couldn’t resist—

  Wouldn’t you like to know?

  A few seconds later—

  Yes.

  My heart pounded. My phone beeped again.

  I’m sorry about that night. I was worried about you.

  I blinked, re-reading the text, surprise filling me. I’d never heard Samir apologize for anything. And the fact that he was worried about me? That was new. I’d only seen him worry about Fleur.

  The thing about Samir—which I would never, ever tell him—was that it was tough to stay mad at him. He was too funny, too charming when he wanted to be, too everything.

  I’m sorry, too. I was drunk and angry.

  I hit send and set my phone down, flipping off the TV.

  A minute later my phone rang. “Hello?”

  “Hi.” Samir’s voice filled the line.

  I grinned. “Hi.”

  Silence descended.

  “Is this a bad time?”

  “No. Not at all. I was just getting ready for bed.”

  “So it’s the perfect time.”

  “Something like that.”

  “Wish I could be there.”

  I chuckled, the knot in my chest slowly unraveling, “Sure you do.”

  “How’s your break going?”

  Horribly. My dad hadn’t even bothered calling on Christmas. And the “gift” he’d gotten me screamed of my grandmother’s attempt to buy something and pass it off as being from him.

  “Let’s just say I’m ready to go back to London.”

  “God, you and me both.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Gstaad. Switzerland. Skiing. It’s cold. I hate being cold.”

  “I don’t know how you bear it. Rough life.”

  He laughed. “Sometimes.”

  I looked around the tiny room I grew up in—the worn carpet, the sheets I’d had since middle school. I doubted our lives could have been any different. It was weird to see my life overlap like this—the old and the new.

  We made conversation for a few minutes—small talk about the weather, what our friends were up to. I lay back in bed, curling up under the sheets, listening to his voice, his accent lulling me to sleep.

  “Maggie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Getting sleepy?”

  “Sorry. Yeah. It’s late here.”

  Silence filled the line.

  “Are you in bed?”

  I blushed. His voice was seductive now, teasing. I doubted he knew how to turn it off. Maybe he didn’t want to.

  “Yeah.”

  There was another pause on the line. “I’ll let you go to sleep.” Samir’s voice sounded unusual, strained, even. “Maggie?”

  “Yeah?”

  Seconds ticked by before he spoke again.

  “Did you sleep with him?”

  Shock filled me. It was a simple question with a complicated answer. It wasn’t his business; he had no right. And yet—

  I found the word tumbling from my lips.

  “No.”

  I thought I heard a sigh of relief on his end of the li
ne, a released breath, or maybe it was just my imagination.

  Samir was quiet for a moment. “Night. Sleep well. I’ll see you in a couple days.”

  I fell asleep and when I dreamed, I dreamed of him.

  * * *

  This time the flight from Charlotte to London was much easier. I slept most of the way, thanks in part to my ability to land a coveted aisle seat. When we landed in London, I made my way through immigration with ease, grabbed my bags and hopped on the Tube.

  I got off the Piccadilly line at Gloucester Road, lucky enough to snag a cab right outside the station. It was only a couple of miles to the school, but not doable with two massive suitcases trailing behind me.

  It was still early, the city quiet. There was an odd stillness to London early in the morning. It was as if the city that never slept was taking a break, recharging its batteries, preparing for the day ahead. In a few hours these streets would be filled with people rushing to work, shopkeepers selling candy from the bodega, pubs getting ready to open for lunch. In a few hours the streets would become a sea of languages and people from all over the world.

  I loved it.

  We hit the park, turning on to High Street Kensington. When the cabbie turned down Embassy Row, I felt the first real sense of excitement—an eagerness to thrust open the door and jump out, bounding up the steps into the school. The building was as beautiful as always, the stone shining in the early-morning light.

  “We’re here, luv.”

  I handed the cabbie a ten-pound note. He helped me pull my bags up the front steps and I pushed open the entry doors.

  I was home.

  * * *

  I sat at a cafeteria table with Fleur, Mya, Michael and Samir.

  “I met someone,” Michael announced, effectively silencing the conversation at the table.

  I grinned, leaning forward in my chair. “Spill.”

  “Well, there was this hot guy on my flight to New York.” Michael leaned in closer, lowering his voice slightly. “He was Japanese. You know how I love Asian guys.”

  “You do,” Fleur called out from across the table with a wink.

  Samir rolled his eyes. “Do you people talk about anything else? It’s always, ‘I met this guy. I think he likes me. But he might not. But he called me. What does it mean?’”