London Falling

by Chanel Cleeton

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I’ve honestly never really thought about it. Not seriously at least.” I kissed her, loving the feel of her mouth against mine.

  She pulled away. “Stop trying to change the subject.”

  “I’m not trying to change the subject,” I murmured, kissing my way up her neck. “It’s just a lot to think about and I don’t feel like thinking right now.”

  Turned out, neither did she.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Samir

  IT DIDN’T TAKE a genius to figure out what she was doing. Ever since my conversation with Abbott, she’d made me study. Constantly. On the upside, we’d worked out a pretty good reward system.

  “Want to go make out in the back of the library?”

  Maggie grinned. “Are you done with your paper?”

  “I have ten pages left.”

  “It’s a fifteen-page paper.”

  “I see you aren’t impressed.”

  Maggie snorted.

  “But what you’re failing to realize is I wrote the most important five pages. The next ten will be a breeze.”

  “I’m not making out with you in the library.”

  “You say that now, but I don’t think you’re thinking this through. I’m giving you a chance to combine your two favorite things—sex and books. It’s pretty much win-win.”

  “How did you get girls before me?” she teased. “You pretty much have no game.”

  I fucking adored her.

  “It worked on you.”

  Her smile widened. “Yeah. I guess it did.”

  I reached across the table to take her palm in mine, tracing designs on her skin.

  “Get a freaking room already.” Fleur slid into the seat next to mine. “You guys are disgustingly cute. Since when do you hang out in the library?”

  I flipped her off.

  “Thank god. I was starting to think you’d lost your balls.”

  Maggie grinned. “Oh no, I promise you, they’re definitely still there.”

  “I hate you both.”

  I laughed. “What’s up?”

  “Are you seriously studying?”

  “Maggie’s studying, and I’m trying to convince her to go make out in the reference section.”

  “Unsuccessfully.”

  “So far,” I corrected.

  She grinned, her dimples flashing back at me. “So far.”

  “I just threw up in my mouth,” Fleur announced.

  I shrugged. “Hey, you came over here.”

  “I’m beginning to regret that.”

  “Fine, we’ll stop.” Maggie shot me a look. “What’s up?”

  She was waffling on the making-out thing. I just needed Fleur to leave.

  “Do you guys have plans for Valentine’s Day?”

  I grimaced. That was not the best subject.

  “Yes.”

  “No,” Maggie answered at the same time.

  I glared at her. I wanted to take her to Vienna, had the whole weekend planned out. She wasn’t having any of it.

  “Well, that’s helpful, thanks.”

  “We don’t have any plans,” Maggie answered, shooting me another look.

  “I want to take her to Vienna.”

  Fleur’s gaze drifted to Maggie. “So what’s the problem?”

  “That’s an excellent question.”

  Maggie rolled her eyes. “Chill out. I’m not going to Vienna unless I can pay my way. I can’t afford it right now.”

  “It’s my Valentine’s Day gift to you,” I reiterated for what felt like the hundredth time. For someone who was as smart as she was, she could be unbelievably stubborn.

  “It’s too much of a gift.”

  “It’s a trip. Not a freaking diamond.”

  It pissed me off that she wouldn’t let me buy her stuff. When we went out to eat, she always chose cheap places or tried to find some way to pay. I’d never had to fight with a girl to let me spend money on her. It didn’t sit well with me.

  “Get me a card. Some chocolates. Maybe some flowers.”

  Fleur nodded. “Roses aren’t bad. I like diamonds, too, but hey, that’s just me.”

  “She likes peonies,” I interjected. “Pink.”

  “There goes my gag reflex.”

  “You can leave,” I shot back.

  “Children!” Maggie glared at both of us. “We don’t have Valentine’s Day plans. What do you need, Fleur?”

  We were definitely going to have a talk about this later. Followed by some “making up.”

  “Go to the school party with me and George.”

  I groaned. “Anything but that.”

  “Sure,” Maggie answered at the same time.

  I scowled at her. “I don’t want to spend my Valentine’s Day with George.”

  Fleur’s expression clouded. “Things haven’t been good with us lately. It’s really awkward. Please don’t make me hang out with him by myself.”

  “You could always break up with him,” I suggested.

  “I don’t want to hurt his feelings. Besides, he’s been really good about the photo thing. It’s kind of hard to dump the guy who stood by you when your naked picture was plastered all over the school.”

  Maggie glanced down at her watch. “I gotta go. I’m running late for class.” She kissed me, entirely too quickly, and nodded toward Fleur. “We’ll be there.” She grinned at me and something tightened in my chest. “I’ll make it up to you. See ya later, babe.”

  My gaze trailed after her. I wished I could go with her.

  “You have it bad.”

  I jerked my attention away from Maggie’s retreating ass. “Thanks for ruining my Valentine’s Day plan.”

  “I didn’t run your Valentine’s Day plan, you idiot. I probably just saved it.”

  “How?”

  “You don’t get it, do you? She’s watched girls throw themselves at you because you have money. She doesn’t have money. She struggles to afford to be here.”

  “I know she struggles,” I muttered through clenched teeth. “That’s why I want to help her. Spoil her a bit.”

  “She’s not like that. Not with you. She cares about you. It means something to her, too. She doesn’t just want to be another girl you spend money on. She doesn’t want you to think that’s why she’s here. That she cares about the money more than you.”

  “She’s not like that. I never thought she was.”

  “I know. I think she does too—mostly. But come on, you’re her first boyfriend. You’re used to this. She’s not. She’s doing the best she can to figure it out as she goes along and she’s freaked out. Give her some space. Let Vienna go. It’s romantic and sweet but a little too over the top.”

  I guessed it made sense when she put it like that.

  “Since when did you get to be so smart?”

  Fleur grinned. “It’s easy when you’re not the one involved.”

  I sighed. “She’s not the only one who doesn’t know what they’re doing,” I admitted. Fleur was probably the only person I would say that to, because I knew deep down she got it. We were the same in so many ways—both a little too screwed up for normal human interaction.

  “I’m terrified I’m going to fuck this up.”

  Fleur reached across the table and patted my hand, sympathy in her gaze. “I know.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Maggie

  “IT’S STUPID THAT I’m nervous, right?”

  Mya grinned. “It’s your first Valentine’s Day with a boyfriend. I’d say it’s pretty fair to be nervous.”

  “And we like the dress?”

  “We love the dress,” Mya corrected with a smile. “You’re hot.”

  I’d tried to downplay Valentine’s Day. Something about it felt too intense, too real. I’d thought going to the school party would be a good compromise. But then Samir had sent me a dozen fat bouquets of pink peonies and my favorite cupcakes, and our room was starting to smell like a florist’s shop. Trust him to take “s
ome flowers and chocolate” and turn it into one hundred and forty-four peonies and enough sweets to fill a bakery.

  I struggled to focus on my appearance. The dress was a soft pink color, so nude it almost blended with the color of my skin. I’d been skeptical, but Mya and Fleur had insisted it was perfect. I paired it with gold heels and a beaded necklace I’d bought from Accessorize.

  I turned back to Mya. “Are you sure you don’t want to come tonight? We’re going to miss you.”

  “I need to be home. My mom’s not taking the divorce too well and I think it’ll help if we hang out together. We’re going to eat candy and watch movies.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “It should be. Valentine’s Day just isn’t a big deal for me. I mean, the candy is nice and everything. And believe me, I definitely enjoyed the benefits of Samir sending you cupcakes. I just don’t—”

  “Obsess about it like me and Fleur,” I finished for her, a wry smile on my face.

  “Sorry. But yeah.”

  Mya was the most put-together person I knew. While Fleur was almost aggressively confident, Mya was so chill. Nothing really seemed to ruffle her.

  I used to think I was like that—calm, easygoing. Jo had always teased me that I mothered our group of friends. And I had. I’d been playing it safe, holding pieces of myself back, afraid of what would happen if I ever really let go.

  Here, in London, everything was different. I felt like I was living, really living, for the first time in my life. It wasn’t just Samir. It was my friends, my whole life here. I’d finally found a place that fit, finally become a version of me I’d only dreamed of before. I liked the freedom London gave me, the space I’d found to be myself.

  Talking with Samir about his future had made me start thinking of my own. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do after graduation—a master’s seemed likely. In our field it was kind of hard to do much without an advanced degree. I had so much ahead of me, so many things to look forward to.

  But it was hard to imagine a future without Samir in it.

  * * *

  THE VALENTINE’S DAY party was held at a posh rooftop bar in Kensington. Surrounded by greenery, with a gorgeous view of the city, it was easy to feel like we were in our own little world. It was like a secret garden—an abundance of trees and hedges and flowers—that only we knew about. The stars twinkled above, giving the whole evening an even more romantic feel.

  The people-watching was pretty epic. Everyone was dressed in their finest—there were more designer outfits in this room than could be seen at Fashion Week. Champagne flowed and by the time we got there at eleven, half the student body was already drunk.

  We met Fleur and George at the table Samir had reserved.

  Fleur looked gorgeous tonight. Her long brown hair fell in curls around her face. Her dress was a shocking pink color, with a hemline that flaunted her long legs and a neckline that showed off ample cleavage.

  I whistled. “You look amazing.”

  She grinned. “Thanks.” She leaned over, giving me and Samir air kisses. “So do you.”

  “Can you blame me for wanting to be alone with her?”

  Fleur ignored Samir. “Come on, let’s go dance.”

  I cast him an apologetic look. “Do you mind? I can totally stay here.”

  He shook his head, his expression resigned. “Go dance.” A knowing smile tugged at his lips. “I’ll sit here and watch.”

  Couldn’t argue with that. I was beginning to learn just how much Samir liked to watch.

  Samir

  I DIDN’T EVEN bother trying to talk to George.

  The guy was beyond boring and I couldn’t figure out what Fleur saw in him. At some point his friend Max came and joined us, but I gave him little more than a cursory nod.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off of Maggie.

  She looked practically naked and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Well, I knew how part of me felt about it. The other part was just confused.

  I’d be lying if I didn’t admit part of me got off on walking into a room with her, knowing there were a hundred guys who would easily trade places with me. She was hot. Unattainable. I liked that she hadn’t been with any other guys—the British asshole didn’t exist as far as I was concerned. But a part of me also felt like she was a secret I wanted to keep—not because I was anything but proud to be with her, but because she was special.

  That was a new one.

  I looked up and saw Omar walking toward me. He nodded before sitting down next to me.

  “Your girl looks hot.”

  “Fuck off.”

  Omar grinned. “You do realize when you graduate everyone’s going to try to get with her.”

  I ground my teeth together. Yeah. I’d realized.

  “They’re going to take one look at her and the fantasies will start. They’re all going to assume you taught her all of your sex tricks and they’re going to be dying to test them out.”

  “Are you trying to piss me off?”

  “Is it working?”

  I flipped him off. “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re sitting over here by yourself like a lovesick schoolboy. It’s a little sad.” He nodded toward George and Max sitting a few chairs away, their backs to us. “And with those two.”

  “Fleur’s fault.”

  Omar grabbed an empty glass, draining the last of the champagne. “How is she still with that guy?”

  “No clue.”

  Omar sighed. “You’re boring as hell. I’m going to go meet up with my guy. Want to come?”

  My guy was code for his dealer. I shook my head. Maggie hated drugs and I was crazy about Maggie. Wasn’t happening.

  I’d found myself changing—not totally, but enough that it was noticeable. I drank less, smoked less, went out less. I paid attention in classes. Went on dates to the movies and restaurants rather than hanging out in nightclubs. We had picnics in the park.

  Omar clucked his tongue, a smug smile on his face. “See what I mean? Whipped.”

  Maggie

  I SLID INTO the seat next to Samir, grinning as he pulled me onto his lap. He nuzzled my neck.

  “Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are when you dance?”

  “I have some idea,” I teased, wriggling around on his lap.

  He hissed. “Not fair.”

  “Since when were you concerned about fairness?”

  “Omar just accused me of being whipped.”

  I felt my eyes widen. “Are you?”

  He nipped at my lip, sucking it into his mouth. I moaned. The things that boy could do with his mouth...

  “Maybe.”

  I shifted my body, running my hands through his hair. “I wish we were alone,” I whispered.

  “We could leave.”

  I wanted to. Badly. But I’d promised Fleur. “Let’s stay for another hour. Then we can go.”

  He grimaced. “I’m dying here.”

  “You’ll be fine.”

  “You’re cruel.”

  I grinned. “Hardly.”

  I rubbed against him, loving the shudder that ripped through his body.

  “Christ.” Samir repositioned me on his lap, resting his chin on my shoulder. “There. Now you’re not so distracting.”

  “Spoilsport.”

  “I think I’ve created a monster,” he joked.

  “Can you blame me if I’m insatiable?”

  “Have I ever told you how sexy it is when you use big words?”

  I laughed. “You think everything is sexy.”

  “On you.”

  I flushed. I loved him like this—playful and charming. Loved bantering with him. Loved getting to be the girl on his arm.

  Samir nudged me. “Have you noticed Max?”

  “Like he exists? Yes. Like I want to have his babies? No.”

  “Very funny. Have you noticed the way he is with Fleur?”

  “Well, he hates her, yeah. He’s actually kind of a dick around her. Why?�
�

  “He watches her.”

  “What?”

  Samir nudged me. “Max. He watches Fleur.”

  I looked to my left. Sure enough, Max leaned against the bar, staring at something in the crowd. I followed the direction of his gaze. Fleur stood on the middle of the dance floor, her hips swaying, long hair flowing, dancing to the beat of the music. Michael danced with her. I looked back at Max. He continued staring at the crowd, and then a scowl covered his handsome face and he turned, downing his drink and setting the glass on the bar.

  “See?”

  I frowned. “That’s weird.”

  “He does it a lot.”

  “Are you sure about that? You may not have noticed, but they don’t get along at all.”

  “That may be, but trust me, he wants her.”

  “Even though he can’t stand her?”

  Samir’s lips quirked. “I hate to break it to you, but we’re guys. We don’t care about emotional shit like you do.”

  I elbowed him. “That’s just sad.”

  He shrugged, gathering me close. “Fine, maybe I misspoke. Some guys don’t care about emotional shit. Others, like me, are incredibly in touch with their feelings.”

  I grinned. “You’re such an ass.”

  “And here I thought I was being good.”

  “I thought you didn’t care about being good.”

  “Maybe I want to be good for you. I’m crazy about you,” he whispered against my hair.

  My lips curved. “I’m crazy about you, too. Or maybe I’m just crazy.”

  “Something like that.”

  “Get a room.”

  I turned at the sound of Omar’s voice. Samir used his free hand to exchange a complicated hand gesture thing with him; his other remained firmly around my body.

  “Don’t get him into trouble tonight,” I admonished with mock severity, remembering the last Valentine’s party and the epic brawl. “Not like last year.”

  Omar rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mom.”

  Samir laughed. “Don’t be jealous just because you can’t get your own girl.”

  “I can get plenty of girls.”

  Samir responded in Arabic and they both laughed.

  He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Want a drink?”

  I nodded. “Thanks.”

  I couldn’t take my eyes off of him as he got up and walked through the crowd. Everything about him was beautiful—the way he moved, the confidence with which he carried himself. I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Girls turned to watch him, whispering to their friends, flipping their hair and throwing smiles his way.