Finding London (Flawed Heart #1) (17 page)

I take a minute to think about her words. “Maybe you’re right. Rejection sucks.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“So, how do I get someone who doesn’t want me?”

Paige thumps the heel of her hand against her forehead. “Oh my God, I might as well be talking to a wall.”

“Whatever.” I don’t feed into her dramatics. “Just tell me what to do.”

“I don’t have any more advice for you,” Paige says in a resigned tone. “This whole thing is out of my advice realm.”

“You can’t be out of advice. I need it,” I protest.

“I gave you mine, remember? I said, charter a plane without so much baggage. But,
no
,
you want the baggage. I said, stop going after someone who doesn’t want you back. But,
no
, you don’t want to listen to that either. So, I’ve got nothing for ya. He’s special…blah, blah, blah. Then, get him back, I guess.”

I point my index finger toward her. “There are no
blah, blah, blahs
allowed in giving advice, but I think you’re right.” I pause and nod my head for effect. “I’m getting my man back!” I yell, lifting my spoon in the air in triumph. “London Wright does not back down from a challenge.”

“Exactly! And we know London Wright’s serious when she starts speaking in third person!” Paige cheers along beside me. “But before you go and hijack that seven forty-seven of hotness, can we please finish watching season five of
Downton Abbey
? We’re so behind. I need to know what Edith is going to do with the baby, and then we need to move on to the final season. Paige McAllister has needs, too, and they’re all going to come from that magic box right there.” She points dramatically to my flat screen TV hanging on the wall at the foot of my bed. “And since my needs are more accessible than yours at the moment, I think I win.”

“That’s fine,” I sigh. “You know these things take planning anyway. It hasn’t even been a week yet. I’m going to give the boy at least a week to come to his senses, a chance to come back begging. But, if he doesn’t, then game on.”

“That’s my girl!” she says with enthusiasm as she grabs the remote. “Now, which episode were we on?” she asks herself as she scrolls through the menu.

My tummy is about to explode from ice cream overload, so I set the pint down on my bedside table. Besides, I no longer want to become obese and die. Instead, I want Loïc back, and I’m going to fight to get him. He might not know what he wants, but I do.

An extremely happy and lively version of my sister fills up my laptop screen as she adamantly tells me of her latest adventure. I haven’t physically spoken to Georgia in a month. All our communication has been over social media or text, so it is so great to see her and hear her voice.

It could be the color settings of my computer screen, but she looks so tan. I’ve never seen her with truly bronzed skin.

Georgia and I are opposites in almost every way. Where my skin darkens after just a few minutes in the sun, hers is pale, burning more than it tans. She has long blonde hair, opposite to my brown. She even has these brilliant blue eyes, which are in complete contrast to my brown ones. She looks nothing like me or my parents. Apparently, my dad’s mother was pale-skinned with blonde hair and blue eyes. Georgia has always stood out at family events, oftentimes being the only blonde in the room. When she was little, she was like this little cherub with rosy cheeks and blonde ringlets. She always seems to be the center of attention—not because she is necessarily more beautiful than anyone else, but because she’s different. She stands out wherever she goes with her angel-like appearance and exuberant personality.

I suppose we are similar in that way. We’re both comfortable with being the center of attention. However, Georgia is more adventurous than I am. I love to experience new places in comfort. Paris? I loved our trip there, but while Mom and I were shopping and dining at the best restaurants in the city, Georgia was touring Les Catacombes—also known as the Empire of Death. Apparently, it is an underground tomb, complete with musty dark tunnels and neatly stacked bones, like skulls and such from dead humans.

No, thank you.

Georgia is talking a mile a minute as she fills me in on the last two months of her European adventures. Something she said catches me off guard.

“Wait, slow down. Did you just say you’re in Brazil?”

“Yeah, I told you at the beginning that I’m in Manaus.” She appears a little irritated.

“I didn’t know what that meant. I figured it was a city somewhere in Europe.”

She sighs. “No, it’s in Brazil where Fabio’s parents live.” She looks so serious.

I can’t hold in my laughter. “Fabio? You’re seriously flying across the world with a guy named Fabio?”

“Jeez, London. Have you been listening to me at all?”

“I’m sorry. I tried, but you’re talking so fast, and I’ve been kind of mesmerized by your tan. What’s up with that?”

Georgia’s face lights up. “I know! It’s amazing, right? It’s a spray tan, but it looks totally real, doesn’t it?”

I nod my head. “Yeah, it does. It’s so strange, seeing you with color. It’s like I can’t focus on anything else.” I laugh.

She chuckles, flinging a lock of her long hair behind her shoulder. “Okay, because you were admiring my radiating skin, I’ll give you a pass.”

We both laugh, and though she’s many miles away, she feels so close. In this moment, I realize how much I’ve missed not seeing her this summer. Our summers are usually spent traveling around with our mother. But Georgia wanted to gallivant around the globe with her friends, and I wanted to stay here to hang with Paige, ogle over Loïc, and apparently get a job. I’m still working on that last part—and by working, I mean, thinking about working on it. What can I say? This whole Loïc drama has been taking up a lot of my brainpower.

When our laughter settles, Georgia continues, “I’m going to go over the details again, but listen up this time.”

I nod in agreement.

“So, I met Fabio in Spain when I was visiting Lolita.”

We stayed in Spain one summer when we were younger, and my dad had business there. Lolita was the girl who lived across the street from our rental house. The three of us were inseparable and have remained in contact since then.

“Fabio was visiting his cousin, who is Lolita’s next-door neighbor’s boyfriend’s friend from college.”

“What?” I stare at the screen, confused.

Georgia waves her hand. “It doesn’t matter. You know, everybody knows everybody over there. Lolita’s neighbor had a party, and I met Fabio there.”

“But doesn’t his name weird you out?” I pull a face. “Wasn’t Fabio the muscled guy on all of Mom’s romance novels when we were little?”

“I don’t care. I think it’s cute. His real name is Fabian, but when he was young, his brothers used to tease him by calling him Fabio, and I guess it stuck. It’s adorable.” She sighs, content.

“You are coming back to the States next month to finish school, right?” I ask seriously.

She has one year left before she’ll complete her degree at Stanford.

Georgia’s lovesick eyes stare back at me. “Of course. I’m not stupid…but…” She trails off, looking sheepish.

“What?” I ask hesitantly.

“I’m probably just going to fly straight from here to Cali. I don’t have to stop at home for anything. All my stuff is at my apartment. I know I promised to hang out with you and Mom for at least a week before school started, but I’m having so much fun. I just…I want this summer to last as long as possible.”

“Wow. Someone’s smitten.”

She smiles. “I know. I totally am. I mean, who really knows if we’ll stay together after the summer? I hope so, but you know how it is. I just want to experience as much as I can with him before I leave. Plus, we have so many things left to do this summer. Next week, we’re flying to Peru to see Machu Picchu.”

“Wow. You and Fabio sound like two adventurous peas in a pod. I get it. No worries. I will fly out this fall to spend the weekend with you. I’m sure Mom will, too. You enjoy your summer with your hottie. I’ve heard those Latino men are totally dreamy.”

“That’s an understatement. So, Mom tells me that you’re all smitten for someone, too.”

“Yeah, but he isn’t as all in as Fabio seems to be. It’s complicated.”

“Well, tell me. I have ten minutes before I have to go. Fabio and I are going to explore this cave beneath a waterfall today. It’s supposed to be amazing. So, give me the nine-minute version, so I have a minute for my advice.”

I laugh. “Okay.”

I rush through the details of the last month from the car wash to our two seemingly-awesome-turned-failed dates to my current plan to get him back.

“Oh, he sounds sexy. No wonder you are so hung up on him,” she responds after I finished talking.

I can’t help but chuckle. “You think he sounds sexy, not crazy?” I shake my head. “I don’t mean crazy. It’s just that he has issues.”

She shrugs. “So what? He has issues. He’s not your typical guy, so there must be something about him that makes you want to pursue him, and I’m guessing it’s his level of sexiness. I think it’s good that you’re falling for him.”

“Why’s that?” I raise an eyebrow.

“You always date these perfect Ivy League type guys, London. Yes, they’re always cute, and I suppose they’re sexy in their own way, but they’re all boring or douches. It’s annoying. They never stand up to you. They’re like your little show ponies. You parade them around while it suits you, and then you get bored and move on.”

“I do not!”

Georgia doesn’t flinch. “You do so. Loïc sounds drastically different than anyone you’ve ever dated, and for that reason alone, I like him. You need to live a little, London. I think Loïc can help you with that.”

“Whatever,” I say for lack of a better response.

“Don’t get all pissy. You know you tend to err on the side of caution. You like to be in control, in charge, the boss—”

“I get it,” I cut her off.

“All I’m saying is, I see why you’re hung up on him. He challenges you. That’s a good thing.”

“So, where’s this brilliant advice?”

“You said you were going to get him back, right?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Perfect. Then, I say you already have a great plan.”

“What should I do?”

She shrugs her shoulder. “I have no clue, but you’ll figure it out.”

“That’s not remotely helpful,” I protest with a pout.

Georgia laughs. “I gotta go. We’ll chat later.”

“Fine,” I huff. “Go be with Fabio.” I wave my hand while saying
Fabio
with the best Spanish accent I can offer.

“Keep me posted on your Loïc dilemma.”

“I will. Love you. Be safe.”

“Love you, too. And aren’t I always?” She winks and blows me a kiss.

Before I can respond, she closes out of Skype, and I’m left with a blank screen.

What a little brat. I just love her.

Loïc

Age Seventeen

Phoenix, Arizona

“One person can only lose so much before he starts to realize that he’s not strong enough to lose any more. ”

—Loïc Berkeley

I spy one of the most beautiful creatures I’ve ever had the privilege to love.

Her thick, silky hair appears light blonde in the dim light, but I know, if we were in the sunlight, it would take on a reddish tint. With her recent haircut, it’s shorter than I’ve ever seen it, but thankfully, it still covers her breasts as she leans forward on my lap, naked from the waist up.

I spy someone who breaks my heart every day, someone I don’t know how to help.

“Sarah, what did you take?”

“Oh, just a little something to take the edge off. You don’t need to worry about me,” she says in a slurred voice, barely able to keep her eyes open. “Let me worry about you. Let me make you feel good, Loïc. Let me love you. I’ll suck you, baby. I’ll ride you, or you can go in from behind. Whatever you want. Fuck me, Loïc. I promise, it will feel good.” Her words are desperate. They always are.

And, like always, I turn her down. “Stop it. You know you don’t need to do that with me.” I gently lift her off of me and set her down on the cheap hotel bed.

Lately, I’ve been lucky enough to secure some under-the-table odd jobs that pay a decent rate. We’ve been able to stay in this run-down motel for the past several months. It’s nice, having a roof over our head along with a shower and a bed. The motel is located in a shady part of Phoenix, but Sarah and I are no strangers to bad areas. She can find drugs anywhere we go, if she wants them bad enough. More often than not, she does.