I tried to ignore the fact that his voice at the moment sounded a lot like mine. He shot me a pointed look. I scowled back at him.
“You can leave,” Fleur snapped, not even bothering to spare him a glance.
Samir ignored her. Instead he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. His watch gleamed under the cafeteria lights.
“Can you girls simmer down over there?” Michael complained. He turned back to me. “So this guy was tall and skinny.”
I grinned, ignoring Samir’s groan. “Right up your alley.”
“Exactly.”
“The whole flight I was trying to figure out if he was single. Sending out discreet signals and stuff—”
“I love you, baby, but you are never discreet,” Mya teased.
Michael balled up a napkin, throwing it and missing Mya, hitting Samir in the elbow. He scowled back at us.
“You’re so boring, Samir,” I teased. He glared at me. “If you can’t handle hanging with the fun people, go sit by yourself.”
“Bite me.”
My eyes narrowed. The fucked-up thing was that part of me wanted to. Tonight was the first time we’d seen each other since his New Year’s phone call. It felt strange to be around him again. Whatever had spurred him to call me seemed to be gone, replaced by a casual indifference.
It was so fucking frustrating.
“No one is listening to my story,” Michael complained.
Fleur waved her hand. “Ignore them. Tell us your story.”
Michael grinned. “Thank you, Fleur. So apparently he wasn’t gay. But I got his phone number anyways.”
I grinned, shaking my head. Michael had the uncanny tendency to fall for straight guys. But I wasn’t sure I was exactly one to judge. I guessed in our own ways we all tended to fall for someone we couldn’t have.
“When are we going to find you a nice boy?”
“I’ll find a nice boy when you do,” Michael teased.
“What?” I asked with mock seriousness. “Moi? I have found a nice guy, thank you very much. Hugh is a nice guy.”
I didn’t look at Samir.
“Hugh is a nice man,” Michael corrected. “He’s old.”
“He’s not old,” I protested. Age was relative anyways. Everyone knew girls matured faster than guys did.
“He is a little old,” Fleur chimed in, a teasing grin on her face. She shrugged. “Still fuckable, though.”
I laughed. Classic Fleur.
The sound of wood against stone interrupted our banter. Samir pushed away from the table. “I’m out.”
“Asshole,” I muttered under my breath. Was I supposed to feel bad for talking about Hugh when Samir constantly showed up with other girls? Seriously?
I turned my attention back to Michael, refusing to give Samir the satisfaction of watching him walk away. “So how in the world did you manage to get this boy’s phone number?”
Michael winked. “I worked my magic. I’ve got moves.”
“I might need you to show me some of those moves,” I joked.
“I take it Mr. Tall, Dark and British didn’t call over break?”
“Nope. Not once.”
“What an ass,” Mya interjected across the table.
Her vehemence surprised me. Mya was usually the calm one. But she seemed a little more tense than usual. So far she hadn’t really shared much about her break.
“I just don’t get it,” I complained, venting now that Samir was gone. “I thought we ended things on a good note my last night in London. I mean, he definitely seemed interested. So why didn’t he call or anything while I was gone?”
“Did you think about texting him?” Mya asked.
“I guess I could have. It just sometimes feels like I’m always the one chasing him. Maybe I want to be the one that gets chased.” And hadn’t Hugh all but said he was going to do just that?
Mya nodded. “Makes sense.”
“Have you ever considered the fact that you might be his booty call?” Michael interjected. Fleur shot him a dirty look. “What? I’m not saying anything bad. We’ve all been some guy’s booty call at one point or another. Now is just Maggie’s turn.”
“She hasn’t given up any booty,” Fleur interjected, jumping to my defense. “Despite all my offers to take her lingerie shopping.”
Michael grinned. “Lingerie shopping is exactly what she needs.”
“Maybe she would like for you guys to not talk about her like she isn’t here.”
“Come on, Mags. A little black lace could make all the difference,” Michael teased.
I blushed. “Enough talking about my underwear.”
“Which Hugh hasn’t seen,” Fleur added.
“Fine. Yes. Which Hugh hasn’t seen.”
Michael sighed. “If you want my advice—” I wasn’t exactly sure I did “—you gotta just jump him one of these days and get it out of your system.”
“So your advice is basically that she should just have sex with him and what—hope for the best?” Fleur shook her head. “Bad advice. If she has sex with this guy, she’s going to get all clingy and he’s just going to break her heart. Trust me.”
It was scary when Fleur was beginning to sound like the voice of reason.
“Guys! Enough talking about my sex life. I didn’t realize whether or not I sleep with Hugh was up for a committee vote. I’ll do what feels right when it feels right. I’m not going to go into this plan scheming and calculating.”
Mya nodded. “Exactly. You should do whatever you’re comfortable with. There’s no need for you to jump into things.”
“Or onto things, as the case may be.” Michael snickered.
I balled up my napkin and threw it at him.
“Have you called him?” Fleur asked.
I shook my head. “Not yet.”
“You should call him,” Michael interjected. “You’re never going to know what might happen if you don’t.”
I knew he was right. But that didn’t make it any easier. “I guess. I just don’t want to seem too overeager. And I did call him last time,” I reminded him.
“Did you tell him what day you were getting into London?” Michael asked.
“No. I hadn’t booked my flight yet.”
“Then call him.”
Chapter 28
I waited a day. I hadn’t been entirely honest with my friends at dinner. It wasn’t just the sex that held me back from calling Hugh. It was so much more than that. I had no idea where I stood with him. And I was still having those dreams about Samir…
I decided to text him instead. Texting was safer, fewer chances for rejection, lower odds I would somehow embarrass myself.
Hi, it’s Maggie. I’m back in town now. Hope you had a great Christmas.
The response came half an hour later. My phone pinged as I walked back into the room from the shower.
Hi, gorgeous. Glad you’re back. Dinner tomorrow?
Relief, mixed in with nerves, filled me.
I knew I should probably wait to respond so I didn’t seem too eager, but I couldn’t.
Sounds great. See you then.
I dressed quickly, blowing out my hair and applying makeup. Dinner was almost over. I rushed through the line, grabbing some chicken nuggets and white rice. I maneuvered through the dining hall tables.
Fleur sat at one of the tables. She wasn’t alone.
So far I had been pretty lucky to limit my interaction with Samir. I was careful to only hang out with him in group settings or in public. Clearly something crazy happened when we were alone together. Public seemed good—safe. Public heightened the chances of me actually keeping my clothes on and my hands—and lips—off of him.
Fleur’s gaze met mine across the room. “Rescue me,” she mouthed.
I grinned despite myself, walking up and sliding out a chair opposite hers in the dining room.
“What’s wrong?”
“Samir’s been sharing his romantic escapades with me. After an hour
of this, I need a shower.”
I couldn’t help myself. I turned to Samir, a grin escaping. “You have an hour of romantic escapades?” My tone was liberally sprinkled with doubt.
Sometimes I couldn’t resist the urge to screw with him.
Samir winked at Fleur, but his words were for me. “I have way more than an hour. I have remarkable stamina.”
I choked on my soda.
Fleur rolled her eyes. “Cochon.”
It took me a second to translate the French word for pig.
Samir leaned forward over the table. “Don’t be jealous just because you failed to get any action over break.”
Did that mean he got action over break?
“I didn’t fail to get any action,” Fleur retorted. “I wasn’t even trying to get ‘action,’ as you so quaintly put it. Some of us had better things to do.”
I winced. Fleur looked like a volcano waiting to erupt. Clearly Samir had been needling her for a while.
“Like what?” Samir taunted. “Shopping? Getting your nails done? Crying over Costa?”
Shit. Costa was the one topic that had become absolutely off-limits with Fleur.
“Fuck you,” Fleur snapped. She got up from the table, grabbing her tray. “There’s a reason why no one likes you, Samir. Maybe if you weren’t such an ass, you would actually have friends at school who didn’t just use you to get into nightclubs. Maybe your girlfriend wouldn’t have left you. Maybe people would actually care about more than your money.”
What? He had a girlfriend? She left him?
Samir’s expression darkened, his jaw clenched.
It was impossible to tell which one of them was more pissed off. Fleur’s anger came out as an explosion of energy; Samir’s was more like a slow burn, no less intense, just more restrained.
Fleur turned to me. “I have to meet up with my group for class. But I’ll see you around.” She stomped off, leaving me alone with a very obviously angry Samir.
I stared down at my plate of food. “You know I might just get this to go—”
“Stay.”
My head jerked up.
“I’m not going to eat you.” His lips twitched, the angry line softening some.
I reddened, leaning back in my chair, creating more space between us. We ate in silence. I desperately wanted to ask him about what Fleur said but his mood seemed… unpredictable. I turned my head, sneaking a peek at his profile. He still looked angry, although slightly less so. I turned back to my food, my appetite nearly gone from all the tension at the table. I pushed my food around the plate. Silence. I turned my head again.
“Enjoying the view?”
I jerked back, a familiar flush spreading across my cheeks. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”
“Why were you?”
“You seemed upset after Fleur left.” The words hung between us. The next words out of my mouth shocked me. “She hurt your feelings.” It was so obvious I couldn’t just refuse to acknowledge it.
What did your girlfriend do to you?
He looked stung. “She did not hurt my feelings.”
“Sure she didn’t.” I played with my fork. Maybe it was time for me to play peacemaker. “You know, she never would have said those things to you if you hadn’t made that dig about Costa. She’s still upset by the whole situation and you throwing it in her face didn’t help things.”
“She doesn’t want to hear the truth.”
“What is the truth?”
I was curious to hear Samir’s take on things. On one hand, he seemed to have the same cavalier attitude toward relationships Costa did. On the other hand, despite their current fight, it was obvious he did care about Fleur.
“Fleur was wasting her time with Costa. The guy was never interested in anything serious. He messed around with her because Fleur’s hot and he could. He’s a dick and Fleur’s way better off without him. Her moping is pathetic. And it’s gone on for way too long. She needs to get over it.”
“And you’ve never moped over a girl?” I countered.
Samir stared at me incredulously. “Of course not.”
“Why?” Suddenly his answer seemed incredibly important to me.
Samir rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Because. I’m Arab. We don’t mope over women.”
“I thought you were also French.” My dimples flashed. “French men definitely mope over women. Isn’t that the whole vibe—you sit in a café somewhere drinking red wine and chain-smoking cigarettes while you cry about women and discuss existentialism?”
Samir let out a bark of laughter. The sound was so rare I wasn’t sure who was more surprised by it. “Something like that.” His lips twitched. “Whereas you Americans drown your sorrows in a Big Mac while watching reruns of Sex and the City.”
I choked back laughter. “Hey—don’t knock Sex and the City. That show is a thing of beauty. Besides, it transcends national identity. Women throughout the world can identify with it. Even French women.”
Samir’s lips twitched. “Touché.”
“I guess American girls are just as capable of being emo as French guys are,” I conceded.
Samir laughed. “I don’t doubt it.”
“Were you emo over your ex-girlfriend?” The words slipped out before I could control them.
Samir’s trademark scowl slipped back into place. “No.”
My eyes narrowed. “I don’t think I believe you.”
“What?”
“I don’t believe you. You seem…” I struggled for the right words. “Thrown by it.” I hesitated, pushing on. “When did you guys break up?”
Samir’s eyes widened. “Are we seriously having this conversation?”
I was a little surprised by my boldness myself. But it didn’t seem fair that Samir knew everyone else’s secrets and we knew none of his.
“Guess so.”
Samir sighed. “I’m over Vanessa.”
Somehow knowing her name made her seem real. I didn’t like it. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t buy that. She’s an ex for a reason.”
Samir glared at me. “What part of me not wanting to talk about it are you not getting?”
I ignored him. “Was it all the girls? Because I do notice you have a lot of girls around you.”
“It was not all the girls,” he replied, teeth clenched.
My expression was dubious at best. I couldn’t imagine any girlfriend being cool with the way Samir was with other girls.
“It was not the other girls,” he repeated. “I didn’t cheat on her. I don’t cheat.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really,” he snapped. “I’m single now. If I want to sleep with five girls at once, it’s my business. I’m always clear from the beginning. I’m not looking for a girlfriend.”
I colored. There was something in the vehemence in his voice that told me I’d disturbed a wound not healed.
I hated this Vanessa girl.
“Did you love her? Is that why you don’t want a girlfriend now?”
There was a moment where I thought he wasn’t going to answer me.
I picked up my tray, ready to leave the table—
“She cheated on me.”
My jaw dropped, my shocked gaze meeting Samir’s. For the first time I saw pain there—and embarrassment.
“I didn’t love her. But I cared about her.” I couldn’t tear my gaze away. “And she humiliated me.” He averted his eyes. “Fleur doesn’t even know that.”
“Is that why you are the way you are?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Our gazes locked once more. A conversation passed between our eyes.
“You know what I mean.”
His stare held mine. “No. I don’t.”
I felt the same push and pull I always felt with him, the same impossible sense of frustration.
“Is that why you push people away?”
“Don’t try to make me into someone I’
m not. I’m not some wounded hero you need to save. I’m a guy. It’s pretty simple. I like sex. I like women. And if I’m having sex with a woman exclusively, then she damned well better be doing the same with me.”
I shook my head, our conversation driving me nuts. He drove me nuts. “What is it with you? Sometimes you seem like a total ass. Other times you’re actually kind of fun. Are you the guy who doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself? Or are you the guy who is actually a decent friend? The guy who flew all the way to Venice because Fleur was in trouble?” My voice was quiet. “Which one are you?” Somewhere along the way, his answer had become important to me.
“Which do you think I am?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly, frustration threaded through my voice. “I haven’t decided.”
“I suppose that’s fair.” Silence filled the table. “I feel the same way about you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You confuse me.”
“Me? That’s ridiculous. I’m super easy to read. With me, what you see is what you get.”
“Is it?” Samir’s gaze lingered on my face. “Somehow I don’t believe that.”
A ringing sound interrupted us. Samir pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket, looking down at the screen. He stood up abruptly, grabbing his plastic lunch tray. “I gotta run. See you later.”
“Samir—”
“Yeah?”
I sucked in a deep breath, the words rushing out in perfect time with the blood rushing to my cheeks—
“Your girlfriend was an idiot.”
He smiled softly. “Thanks.”
I watched him walk away, wondering why I felt so off balance. And wishing I had an answer to my own question—
Who was he, really?
And why did I care?
Chapter 29
After my lunch with Samir, I desperately needed a distraction. I couldn’t ask for more than my date with Hugh.
“I missed you.”
I grinned at him across the table. “I missed you, too.”
Dinner was at a fancy sushi restaurant in Knightsbridge. I’d already spotted a pop star and Hugh pointed out a few footballers.
“Did you think of me while you were gone?”
“I did.” I reached out and traced my finger against his forearm, feeling all of that strength through the crisp fabric of his dress shirt.
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