This time tomorrow he would be gone.
In the beginning, when I’d first met Samir, I hadn’t thought about the fact that he would be graduating or that he would likely go back to Lebanon when he was done. How could I? I lived in a world where kids went to school and graduated and got jobs wherever they could find work, living wherever they wanted to live. Wherever they could live. Political dynasties and family legacies were things I’d only read about in books. They weren’t real to me. Not like they were to him.
I would have given anything, everything I had, to go back in time to last year. I wished I could have told myself back then to savor every moment with him. To not waste time worrying about my feelings, playing it safe, teetering on the edge of letting myself go. I wished I could have tumbled headfirst into it. Wished I could have frozen all of those moments that now slipped through my fingers.
I sank down on my bed, struggling not to cry. Pain filled my chest, bringing with it an acute sense of loss. He was still here, but in my heart he was already gone. It was just a matter of time.
I almost wished I could avoid this night altogether. At the same time, I wished I could draw out every moment, prolonging it indefinitely. Time taunted me now, the hands of the clock threatening to tear away the one person I was worried I couldn’t live without.
A knock sounded at the door.
I stood up on shaky legs, making my way across the room. I sucked in a deep breath, struggling to compose myself. From the beginning, since we’d decided to be together, I’d known he would be temporary, that I couldn’t keep him.
I just wished my heart had gotten the memo.
Samir
SHE OPENED THE DOOR and my heart fucking stopped.
Impossibly, she seemed more beautiful every time I looked at her. Or maybe it was just that I saw her differently every time I looked at her. Each time I saw more.
Her hair was down in a cascade of dark brown curls. Her lips were a lush, full red, her skin the color of cream. Her body, with the curves I loved, was wrapped in a black dress that made me want to stay in.
Her eyes broke my heart.
I saw myself in her gaze. Saw the same fear and pain and sense of loss that had been chasing me all day reflected in her eyes. I was supposed to be happy. I’d been waiting for this moment for four years. No more exams, no more papers, no more time spent in boring lectures I could have cared less about. But I didn’t feel happy. I felt... I didn’t know. Off. Like I needed to take a step and didn’t know where I was supposed to go.
“I don’t want to go out tonight.” I blurted out the words, my voice bleak. I want to stop time. I want to stay in my room, wrapped around you forever. I don’t want to leave.
I was frozen—by indecision, fear, the weight of expectations I could never live up to.
Maggie smiled, but I knew that smile. She was trying to pretend everything was okay. Trying to pretend she wasn’t as fucked up over this as I was. We both sucked at pretending.
“We have to go. Fleur planned the party to celebrate your graduation.”
“I don’t care about Fleur. She’ll get over it.”
Maggie shook her head. “We have to go.” Her voice cracked a bit, her composure slipping. “I need to be out. I need the distraction of just drinking and having fun. I don’t want to think about things. If it’s just the two of us, we’ll be depressed. We need to get out—have a good time. It’ll be fun.”
I’d never been less in the mood for a party. I wanted to protest, to convince her to blow it off. But I’d never been good at making Maggie do anything. I was ready to turn myself inside out to please her. So I followed her out the door and into a cab.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Maggie
HE WAS ANGRY or unhappy or something. I didn’t want to think about what the “something” meant.
He didn’t talk. The entire drive to Babel, we didn’t say a word between us. He sat next to me, my hand clutched in his, staring out the window as the lights of London passed us by. I’d always felt as if the city were magic—I’d always seen possibility in those lights. Now I just saw a flickering sadness, the last few glimmers before the magic died out.
I wanted to speak, to break the tension building between us, but each time I opened my mouth to say something, the emotion clogged in my throat kept the words inside. They were trapped there, captured within the vault where I’d locked my heart away.
We were living on borrowed time—of course we had been all along. But now time was up and I had no clue how to handle it. No clue how to handle the emotions raging inside of me. We were both angry, both struggling to make sense of things, both struggling to move forward, to understand what to do next.
It was a spectacularly bad night for a party.
“Are you okay?” Fleur asked, hugging me when we finally arrived at Babel. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that you look like you’re going to cry.” Her gaze darted toward Samir. “Did you guys get into a fight or something?”
I looked at Samir, standing at the bar talking to Omar, his back to me.
“No.”
At least with a fight we would talk about things—about the future. We didn’t fight because that would mean we’d have to deal with whatever lingered between us. Neither one of us was much for talking about our emotions.
“Then why are you over here when he’s over there?”
“I don’t know.”
“You guys are idiots.”
Somewhere, the more mature, but often ignored, part of my brain agreed with her.
“Not helping.”
“You are. You’re both throwing away your best chance at happiness.”
I glared at her, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach telling me she was right. I drained the glass of champagne, letting the bubbles take me over.
“Well, that answers the question of whether you’re planning on getting drunk tonight.” Her gaze narrowed as it traveled over to where Samir stood with Omar. “And apparently he’s going to join you.” She grimaced. “You may want to head over to the bar before he screws up your last night together.”
I followed her stare until my gaze settled on two very pretty girls talking to Samir and Omar.
I saw red.
Samir
I KNOCKED BACK the glass of whiskey, savoring the burn that shot down my throat. The rest of me felt numb. It was my fourth one, and I had no intention of slowing down any time soon.
Omar raised an eyebrow at me. “Is that really what you want to be doing right now?”
No, actually it wasn’t. I wanted to be with my motherfucking girlfriend. I wanted a lot of things I apparently couldn’t have.
“Fuck off.”
Omar’s lips curved and I could tell he was struggling to keep from laughing at me. Yeah, I was just hilarious.
I was angry and getting angrier by the second. She was impossible. She made me feel like a girl, because I actually wished she would talk to me, tell me what she was thinking. I wanted everything from her—her thoughts, her feelings, her emotions. I wanted to know what was going on in her head. I’d felt her getting progressively sadder the closer we got to graduation, and yet, I had no idea what she wanted—or if she wanted to do something about it.
“Girl troubles?”
“You have no clue.”
Omar grimaced. “Dude, if this is what love looks like, I want no part of it.” He spat the word “love” from his lips as if it were a dirty word. If things hadn’t been so desperate, if his words hadn’t stopped me in my tracks, I would have laughed.
“What are you talking about?”
There was a difference between thinking about it or worrying about it, and hearing it spoken aloud. He’d just given a voice to the thing that scared me most.
“Please. You love her and she’s driving you nuts. It couldn’t be more obvious.”
“I don’t love her.”
Maybe if I said it enough I’d convince myself.
“I don’t love her,” I repeated.
Omar shrugged. “Whatever.”
“Fuck. She doesn’t love me.”
It hurt to force the words out.
“Maybe, maybe not.”
I hated the uncertainty in my voice. Hated how much I cared. He was going to give me shit for this for the rest of my life.
“She won’t talk to me. I’ve tried to talk to her, to see how she feels about everything, and she won’t talk to me.”
“Make her.”
He had a point there. Except I wasn’t sure I was ready for her answer. If she said she loved me, what would it change really? We still faced the same problem that I couldn’t get around, no matter how hard I tried. I couldn’t have Maggie without giving up everything else. And where would that take us? She was so young—she still had two years of college ahead of her. I wanted her to have a chance at her dreams. I didn’t want to ruin all that.
There would be no guarantees. It wasn’t like we’d be getting engaged—she wasn’t even twenty-one. For me to give up everything for her meant I was taking a gamble and my odds were a complete mystery. I didn’t even know what she wanted. Besides, what could I offer her? Without my family’s support, my job prospects weren’t great. Hell, I wouldn’t be shocked if my dad blackballed me for defying him. Then where would we be? I had a little money from my grandfather, but it wasn’t anything compared to what I’d be giving up.
We couldn’t do long distance. I’d done long distance with other girls and it never worked. With Maggie—I trusted her and yet I knew it would drive me crazy to be with her and be worried about other guys. And she deserved to be able to have fun and not feel tied down to a guy who could only see her a few times a year. After all of that, it still begged the question, where was this going?
“It’s complicated.”
Omar smirked. “You’ve lost your edge.”
“No, I haven’t.”
But maybe I had. I wasn’t the same guy I’d been before her and I wasn’t sure I missed that guy either. I didn’t know who I was anymore.
Omar jerked his head toward two girls standing to our right. “They’re headed this way. Prove it.” He waved the girls over, a lazy grin on his face. Fucker. I knew what he was doing and I doubted he realized how pissed Maggie would be—or just how bad her temper could be.
Omar started talking to the girls, introducing me. They were hot. Tall and lean, nice boobs. They were definitely interested in us and I couldn’t have cared less. I didn’t want another girl. I wanted Maggie.
“What the fuck is your problem?”
Shit. I turned around and came face-to-face with my very pissed-off girlfriend.
Thanks, Omar.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Maggie
I WAS MAKING a scene and I couldn’t be bothered to care. I knew exactly what he was doing.
“Really?”
“It’s not what it looks like,” Samir answered, his expression pained.
My gaze darted from the girls and back to him. I barely spared them a glance.
“I know it isn’t what it looks like. That’s the point. You’re pissed at me and this is, what? Your way of punishing me? Trying to get attention?”
For a moment, he almost looked guilty, but then his expression changed and I saw the same anger there that had plagued me all night.
“Because you’ve been so mature.”
“Me?”
He stepped closer to me, moving away from Omar and the other girls, backing me into a corner. “Yes, you. We need to talk.”
We did. I’d been avoiding it for weeks. I didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what I wanted. Or maybe it was just that I wanted something I knew I couldn’t have.
I still couldn’t see how a future between us would ever work. I didn’t fit in his world. I didn’t mean that in a he came from money and I didn’t sort of way. I meant it in a you will have no political future in Lebanon if you marry an American girl whose father is a fighter pilot sort of way. His parents had looked at me as if I were nothing. In his world I was.
I didn’t want to take his future away from him. He loved his country and underneath all of his swagger, he was a good guy. He had a chance to make a difference. I wanted him to have that chance. I didn’t want to be another person who tried to control his life.
I forced a smile on my face, ignoring the pounding in my heart. “Let’s just have fun tonight, okay? We don’t need to talk. Everything’s fine.”
“I don’t want to pretend everything is fine. Nothing is fine about this.” He closed the distance between us and I had to tilt my head up to meet his eyes. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel the same way I do. That this isn’t killing you as much as it’s killing me. Because I know you better than anyone and I won’t believe you.”
His words splintered something inside me. He did know me better than anyone and he made me happier than anyone ever had. But I was twenty. I wasn’t ready to get married or even engaged. Not even close. And it seemed crazy for him to throw away his life just so we could date.
“What do you want me to say? Do you want me to tell you I’ve been miserable for the last month? That every day has felt like a ticking time bomb I can’t stop? That every morning when I wake up next to you, I think to myself, ‘only two more mornings, only one more morning’?” My voice cracked. “Do you want me to cry? Would that make you feel better?”
“Maggie—”
“No. You don’t get to do this now. We said it all along—this was temporary from the start. You knew that just as much as I did. Why do this now? Why drag it out and make it worse?”
“Because maybe it doesn’t have to be like this. Maybe this doesn’t have to be goodbye.”
I hated the hope that sprang up at those words. Hated how badly I wanted him to be right.
“You don’t get it. It has to be goodbye. I need to be able to move on. I need for you just to leave, so this feeling inside me, this feeling that my heart is shattering in my chest, will finally stop. I can’t prolong this; I can’t keep hoping things will change between us. I need to let you go. I need you to let me go.”
“What if I can’t?”
“You have to.”
“That’s bullshit. You’re scared and you’re afraid to take a chance on us. Why can’t you trust me, Maggie? I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You’re hurting me now. Can’t you see that? You’re breaking my heart and I just need it to be over.”
He froze. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing.”
He was too close; everything about this was too intense. I needed a break from him, needed space to breathe.
“Do you love me?”
Everything in the club fell away. I couldn’t think, couldn’t react, couldn’t feel or hear anything but those words, undeniable, thundering through my ears—
Horror filled me, because I knew the answer to his question. It was inside of me, shouting to get out. Of course I loved him. I’d loved him for so long it had become a part of me, a part I would have to carve out of my chest when he left.
It seemed so unfair that I would meet him now, that my life would change at nineteen and at twenty I would be pushed to choose the path my life would take. I loved him, but we had dreams of our own, plans independent of each other. I wanted to be with him—but what did that mean? Was I supposed to drop out of school? Marry him, move to Lebanon? Was that what he wanted? Did I even want to know what he wanted?
“Do you love me?”
I heard the desperation in those words, felt the anger simmering beneath them. And for a moment I didn’t know what he wanted—or needed—to hear more. The truth...or the lie.
Three words, desperate for release, fought to escape.
I love you. I have always loved you. Since before I knew how to put a name to it or what it was. And more than anything, I’m afra
id I will always love you. And now you’re leaving and I feel like you’re taking my heart with you.
Panic rose inside my chest. “Don’t ask me that.”
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t open my heart. I wanted to fight. I wanted to get drunk and yell at him about something stupid. I wanted to wreck this. As fucked up as I knew it was, part of me wanted to hurt him as much as he was hurting me. I wanted to push him away, because in some sad way, I knew how to deal with people leaving.
I had no clue what to do if they stayed.
Samir
I COULD SEE the indecision in her eyes, could practically hear her thoughts warring inside of her. She was scared and she was angry and I’d pushed her, which was the absolute worst thing to do to Maggie, and yet I couldn’t apologize or even feel guilty because I felt like I was drowning and couldn’t get out.
She hadn’t answered my question. Maybe that was her answer.
I didn’t have a plan beyond the question, didn’t have an out for this mess we’d gotten ourselves into. I was an idiot, and I was screwing this up beyond redemption. I was losing her—could feel her slipping away right in front of my eyes.
Maybe I’d never had her at all.
All along she’d made me want to be better, had made me believe I could be a different person, that I could be more.
“I don’t love you. I’m sorry.”
Her words sliced through me, leaving a trail of nothing in their wake. I’d never put myself out there with a girl. Ever. And for the first time I knew what rejection really felt like. I didn’t know what to say, how I was supposed to react. Should I laugh and pretend it was all a game? That I had been joking all along? That I hadn’t been standing here with my heart in my hands? I tried, but my body—and my heart—wouldn’t cooperate.
“I’m going home.”
Surprise, mixing with hurt, flashed across her gorgeous face.
“Samir—”
I shook her hand off of my arm, couldn’t bear for her to touch me. Not now. “I’m tired. I’m going home.”
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