I punched in the code to my room, shifting my books around. The door swung open.
“Coming up for air?”
I grinned at Fleur. “Very funny. Where’s Mya?”
“Final.”
I gestured to the magazines surrounding Fleur. “You done?”
“Finished my last one three hours ago.” She grinned. “I’m free.”
“I hate you.”
“Hey, I don’t feel sorry for you at all. I’ve been here studying for days and you’re the one getting laid all the time.” Her nose scrunched up. “Even if you are banging my cousin.”
“I have not been getting laid all the time.”
She laughed. “You definitely have. You have that ‘I just got fucked’ look all over you.”
My face heated.
“You’re so easy to tease,” Fleur said with a smirk.
“Thanks. What about George? Aren’t things heating up between you guys?”
“George is a nice guy. It’s not really like that with him.”
“I’m pretty sure even nice guys get laid.”
“Not this one.”
Surprise filled me. The Fleur I knew was pretty much, I came, I saw, I conquered. “So throw on some Agent Provocateur and seduce him.”
She was quiet. No inappropriate jokes, no arrogant swagger.
“Okay, what’s up?”
“Nothing.”
I sank down on my bed. “Something is up. Look, I know I haven’t been around as much as I used to be—”
“You aren’t around at all,” Fleur corrected.
It stung, but I couldn’t disagree with her.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m a shit friend. But I’m here now. I want to hear all about you and George. So tell me—why the hell haven’t you guys hooked up yet? You’ve been dating for what, two months now?”
“Three.”
“Okay, so what’s the problem?”
A guilty look flashed across Fleur’s face. “Don’t hate me.”
“What?”
“I don’t think I can do this.” The words rushed out in one quick swoop. Misery flashed across Fleur’s face.
“Why?”
“I just don’t feel anything. At all. He’s a nice guy. And you were right; it’s nice being with a guy who is sweet to me. Who doesn’t play games and who I don’t have to worry about fucking around on me.”
“But?”
“I don’t want to be with a guy because he’s nice. I know you didn’t get the Costa thing—I get that no one got the Costa thing. But when I was with him, I felt good. Alive. Everything was exciting and fun and I know no one expects to hear this from me, but I got butterflies. Even months into being together I got butterflies. With George—it’s nice. It’s comfortable. It’s safe. But it’s so fucking boring that at times I want to scream. We don’t have anything in common. And I always feel like I’m walking on eggshells with him. He’s so nice and I don’t want to hurt his feelings—shocking, I know. But you know me, that’s not really me.”
“Maybe the craziness—the up and down, the fighting, the worry about him cheating—maybe those were the things that gave you butterflies with Costa. Maybe it wasn’t really him at all. Maybe you just miss the conflict. Maybe you don’t know how to do easy.”
“We don’t seem to have chemistry, though. There’s no spark. No fire. We don’t banter. Do you know what I mean? There’s no sparkle.”
I did know. All of those things she described were exactly how I felt around Samir.
“You’re right—I need a good guy. I get it now. Costa was a huge mistake. And believe me, I don’t want to go back to that. But I want to be with a guy who makes me look the way you look right now.”
“Me?”
“You sparkle.”
I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the mad pounding in my heart. “Whatever.”
“He makes you happy.”
“He’s fun.”
“You make him happy, too. He’s different with you. You guys are good together.” She grinned. “I’ll even admit I was wrong.”
I laughed. “As shocking as that admission was, I see what you’re doing. Don’t change the subject. We’re talking about you and George.”
“I don’t know that there really is a me and George.”
“Yeah, but he thinks there is.”
The guilty look flashed across Fleur’s face again. “I don’t want to hurt him.”
“I know you don’t.”
“What would you do if you were me? You’ve had more experience being a nice girl than I have.”
“I have no clue. I like George. A lot. He’s a really good guy and he’s clearly crazy about you. He’s smart and he’s cute. He’s a catch.”
“I know. I feel like an asshole complaining about this, but I’m not happy. I know this isn’t really a problem—I shouldn’t be bitching about how much my boyfriend likes me.”
“It is a problem if you don’t feel the same way.”
Fleur sighed. “Maybe I should give him more of a chance.”
“Not a bad idea. Just don’t lead him on. If you’re having doubts, you need to talk to him. Maybe you can slow things down a bit.”
“I guess.”
“Is everything else okay? You seem kind of off.”
Fleur sighed again. “I don’t know anymore. I thought this year would be different. I thought I could get past everything that happened and be a different person. Better. Instead I just feel like a fucking mess.”
“You aren’t a mess. You’re just in transition right now. It makes sense that you’re going to struggle a bit. It’s not going to be easy. Everything will be okay.”
I could tell by the look in her eyes that she didn’t really believe me. I couldn’t blame her—I wasn’t really sure I believed it myself.
* * *
“CAN I JOIN you guys?” I gestured to the empty seat at Max and George’s table.
George grinned. “Of course.”
It was my last exam this morning. I was sort of ready. Maybe. I’d studied last night for a few hours and then gone up to Samir’s room to fall asleep. He’d woken up in the morning for his final and I still had a few hours before mine.
“Are you guys done with exams?”
George nodded. Max grimaced. “One left. Managerial accounting.”
“That sounds pretty miserable.”
“It is.”
“Hi.” Fleur sat down next to me. She leaned across the table, pressing a kiss to George’s cheek, ignoring Max.
“It’s nine a.m. How do you look like you just stepped out of a fashion magazine?” I asked with mock annoyance.
I was very happily rocking my standard exam uniform of sweatpants and a hoodie and I couldn’t have cared less. Fleur wore some kind of black sweater dress that hugged her body. Her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail that swung with each jerk of her head.
“It’s a French thing.”
Max snorted but didn’t look up from his breakfast.
“Where’s your better half?”
I pulled off an end of my croissant. “Exam.”
“Are we still going out tonight?”
“Yeah, Samir booked a bunch of tables at Babel.”
“You’re in, right?” she asked George.
He nodded like he was into it, but the dread in his eyes said something else entirely.
Max continued eating, not looking up. I shot Fleur a look. I knew she wasn’t a big fan of Max’s, but I felt like an ass not inviting him.
She ignored me.
“Max, do you want to come? There’s a big group of us going.”
He laughed. “Thanks, but it’s not really my scene.”
Fleur smirked. “Obviously.”
“Fleur!”
Max shook his head. “Believe me, there’s no need to spare my feelings. I would have to actually care what Fleur thinks in order to be offended.”
“It’s really a shame you can’t hear what I’m thinking right now,�
�� Fleur shot back with a saccharine smile, flipping him off.
“Really mature.”
Fleur glared back at him.
“Are they always like this?” I asked George.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Fleur needs to learn to play nice with others.” Max smirked. “Must be a French thing.”
“Ass.”
I sighed. “Please. It’s too early. Can we save the bickering until I’ve had my coffee?”
Fleur rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m out. Good luck on your exam, Mags.” She kissed George quickly and then turned away.
Max’s head jerked up, his gaze narrowed as he watched her walk away. “Explain to me again why you’re with her, bro.”
George shook his head. “Don’t start.”
“You should come out with us,” I interjected, struggling to change the subject.
“It’s really not my scene.”
“It’ll be fun. Besides, that way George won’t be bored.”
“Come on, man. She’s right—it’ll be fun. It’s the end of the semester—time to celebrate a bit. Besides, maybe you’ll meet a hot girl of your own.”
Looking the way Max did, I was pretty sure that was a given.
“If you don’t go, Fleur will think she’s gotten the best of you,” I teased. “She’s all bark and no bite. You just have to show no fear.” I echoed the advice Samir had once given me.
George nodded. “You owe me one after the last time we went out. Wingman, remember?”
Max sighed. “Fine, I’m in. I can handle a night out with the Ice Queen.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Samir
“I INVITED SOME people out tonight.”
I tore my attention from her bare legs. At least I tried.
“What?”
“I added some guests to your little end-of-semester party.”
I ran my hand up her leg, flirting with the edge of her hemline. I wished we were in private, didn’t care as much as I should that we were in the back of a cab.
“Are you listening?”
“Sort of.” My lips traveled to her ear, leaving soft kisses there, enjoying the shiver that ran through her body. “Not really.”
Pretty much everything I had was focused on getting under that dress.
“Why exactly did I agree to a night out?” I whispered against her hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo.
“Because we needed to celebrate. You have one semester left in your college career. It’s a moment.”
I could have cared less.
I ran my hands over her body, cupping her curves, loving the feel of her plastered against me. “Maybe I just did it so I could see you in that dress and get you out of it later,” I murmured, my lips brushing against the bare skin at her neck.
“One-track mind.”
“Damn straight.”
Maggie cocked her head to the side, exasperation filling her voice. “You haven’t listened to one word I’ve said, have you?”
She was cute when she did the stern librarian thing. I struggled to look properly contrite. “Sorry. You invited people out tonight, right?”
“Yeah, Max and George.”
I groaned. “Not exactly a party.”
“Are you mad?”
I shook my head, shifting her onto my lap. “Babe, in that dress I’m pretty sure you could have invited Che Guevara and I wouldn’t have cared.”
Maggie snorted. “He’s dead.”
“See, that’s how much I like you in that dress.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll never understand you men. A little bit of skin and you guys all turn into mush.”
“Gladly.”
She pressed her lips to mine.
“I’m going to miss you,” she murmured against my mouth.
“Same.”
I didn’t think she realized how much I wasn’t looking forward to this break. Sure, exams were over, and logically I knew we should be celebrating—but I wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready to let her go.
The cab stopped in front of Babel. I got out, walking around and opening the door for Maggie. For a moment, I just stood there, staring down at her. It almost hurt to look at her. She was that beautiful.
She tilted her head to the side. “What?”
I shook my head, forcing a smile onto my lips. “Nothing. I was just thinking about how lucky I am.”
She slid her palm into mine, linking fingers in a move that felt altogether too natural. “I’m the lucky one.”
Maggie
I’D GONE CLUBBING with Samir plenty of times. I was used to the attention, to the people who flocked to him, hoping for a chance to sit at his table and be part of the select group he called friends. In London, everyone wanted to be a VIP, and Samir was the real deal. I’d never been more aware of it than tonight, when I walked into Babel on his arm.
As Samir guided me down the concrete steps leading from the street level down into the club entrance, my hand clutched in his, I was struck by how much my life had changed in a little over a year. I’d come here my first night out in London—when he was just a guy who had seemed impossibly out of my league. I’d had my first kiss here; we’d had our first kiss here. As soon as we walked into the club, it all came rushing back to me.
He squeezed my hand. I tilted my head up and smiled at him, grateful for the dim lighting that would hide the emotion etched all over my face. Maybe three weeks apart were a blessing in disguise. Maybe we needed them to get some kind of perspective. I slept with him—every night. We didn’t even always have sex. Sometimes we just lay together in the dark, holding hands and talking. Sometimes I woke up in the morning, my body wrapped in Samir’s arms. I loved it and it terrified me at the same time. Time was running out. The end of the semester meant we were that much closer to him graduating and going back to Lebanon for good.
We had five months left.
“Maggie!”
I whirled around. Fleur, Mya, George, and Max walked toward us. Fleur and Mya were dressed to kill tonight in gorgeous designer dresses. They both greeted me with air kisses. I gave Max and George hugs. George kept tugging at the collar of a shirt that screamed “shopping trip with Fleur.” Poor guy. Max was dressed more casually in a nice T-shirt and jeans. It was the kind of outfit that normally wouldn’t have gotten him past a bouncer, but it seemed they had been willing to look the other way, since he looked like an underwear model.
“He wore trainers,” Fleur hissed. I looked down at Max’s shoes and winced. It was a totally stupid, unwritten London club rule that you didn’t wear tennis shoes to a posh club. Max’s were cooler than your average workout shoes, but still. I felt a pang of sympathy for him. I knew what it was like not to feel like you fit in.
“Shut up,” I hissed back, flashing Max what I hoped was a reassuring smile.
“There’s no need to whisper,” Max replied, his voice dry. “I’ve already figured out that I’ve committed the unpardonable sin of wearing tennis shoes to a nightclub. I’m devastated. I can only hope no one takes my picture and this moment isn’t memorialized.”
Mya snorted. A grin slipped onto my face. Apparently Max could dish out as much as he took.
He turned his attention to Fleur, his eyes narrowing to a stare that would have made me flinch. “Too many big words for you, princess?”
“Fuck you.”
“No, thank you.”
George shifted uncomfortably.
Samir shook his head. “I’m not in the mood for this. I’m going to the table.” He tugged on my hand. “Come on.”
Fleur ignored us, staring back at Max. George whispered something, but she ignored him, too.
Max shot her a look that was both dismissive and cutting before facing the rest of the group. He gestured toward the bar. “I’m getting a drink.”
We all watched him walk off, maneuvering through the crowd with ease.
I turned to Fleur. “What the hell is wron
g with you?”
“What?”
“Are you kidding me? You’re so rude to him. Look at him. He’s not wearing a fucking Rolex and he doesn’t drop thousands of pounds on champagne.” Samir stiffened beside me, but I ignored him, the anger inside of me building. “He probably doesn’t have a lot of money and can’t afford Gucci loafers. Lay off him.”
Fleur glared at me. “Right. Saint Maggie rides to the rescue.”
Anger filled Samir’s voice. “Watch it.”
I turned on him. “Stay out of this. I don’t need you fighting my battles.”
For a moment he stood there as if deciding what to do. Annoyance flashed across his face. “Fine. I’m heading to the table. Find me when you guys have grown the fuck up.”
Fine. I didn’t need him taking care of me. I wasn’t some helpless girl who needed constant protecting.
I turned to Fleur, pushing Samir out of my mind. “What do you mean by ‘Saint Maggie’?”
George shifted uncomfortably.
“We need a minute,” Fleur snapped.
“Fine. We’ll go find Samir,” Mya said. “Come on, George.”
He trailed after her, leaving me by myself with Fleur.
“What the fuck is your problem?”
“Me? You’re the one who has been completely absent. You haven’t shown up for anything. I’ve barely seen you since we got back from Spain and then you have the audacity to jump into a situation you know nothing about?”
“Fine. Then tell me. Why are you so nasty to Max? Because from where I’m standing it looks like he’s not cool enough to be part of your little clique.”
“So we’re back to that? I thought you knew me. Better than most. But you really think I’m just some shallow bitch. Fuck you.”
This was all coming out wrong. I struggled to calm down. I knew most of this wasn’t about Fleur. I was angry and stressed out and it wasn’t fair for me to take it out on her.
“No. Of course I don’t. I just don’t understand why you’re always ripping into him.”
“Because he’s always been like this with me,” Fleur snapped. “Since day one. Who do you think gave me that stupid Ice Queen title to begin with?”
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