I See London 1 (19 page)

“Don’t do this.”

I froze.

The voice behind me was raw, angry—and all too familiar.

I turned slowly, coming face-to-face with Samir.

Chapter 26

“What are you doing here?”

“Don’t do this,” Samir repeated, walking toward me, his hands shoved in his pockets. “You’re drunk. Trust me, it’s a bad idea. One you’ll regret”

“Are you kidding me? You think you have any right to lecture me on good decision-making?”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“So what?” I challenged. “It’s my mistake. It’s none of your business. Go away. Go back inside to whatever girl you’re screwing around with today.”

His mouth tightened in a harsh line. “Come back inside.” He reached out and grabbed my hand, my fingers slipping through his as I jerked away.

“Don’t touch me.”

“That’s not what you were saying a few weeks ago.”

“Venice was a mistake.”

“Was it? I think you’re lying.” Samir moved toward me, like a panther stalking its prey. His body grazed mine, his hips pressing against me. His voice lowered. “Tell me you want him like you want me. Tell me he makes you ache like I do. Tell me you yearn for it. Tell me he makes you lose control like you do with me.” He leaned closer; his lips barely grazed my ear, but it was enough to be my undoing. “Tell me you don’t think of me—my kisses, my hands, my body—when you’re with him.”

I pushed him away. My voice shook. “I don’t think of you at all.”

“Liar,” he whispered, the sound triumphant, his expression fierce.

I hated that he was right.

“Don’t go with him. Don’t do this.”

“Why? Give me one good reason.”

“Because I want you. In my bed. Naked in my arms. Because I can’t stop wanting you. Because this thing between us hasn’t had a chance to play itself out. You can deny it all you want, but there’s something here. I know you feel it.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine. The image of our bodies locked together entered my mind. But it wasn’t enough.

Samir has
bad idea
written all over him.

“Then what? I get, what, one, two nights as your girl of the week?” I laughed, the sound bitter, louder than I intended. “Guess what? You’re not worth it.”

Samir looked stung. “And he is?”

“Yeah. He is.” I met his gaze head-on. I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol stoking the fire within me or my own frustration over the back-and-forth we’d been doing for months now, but whatever it was, I wanted to lash out at him. I wanted to push him away.

“Maggie—”

“Go back inside.” My voice shook with anger and emotion. “Just go back inside. You want to help me? Leave me alone. Because I can’t take anymore of this. Just leave me alone.”

I turned away, walking toward Hugh, leaving Samir behind me. I didn’t look back.

“You okay, babe?” Hugh looked over my shoulder.

Somehow I mustered a grin. “Yep. Let’s go.”

I slid into the Ferrari, anger flooding me.
How dare he? How dare he judge me?
Samir knew nothing about me. And he was an idiot if he thought I was going to miss out on a guy like Hugh for a couple nights in Samir’s bed. Hugh took me to dinner, took me out on dates. Samir wanted to fuck me. And as good as I knew it might be—I’d seen the parade of girls.

I couldn’t be one of them.

And yet…those words…
I want you
…I couldn’t push them out. Couldn’t push him out.

I didn’t want my first time to be like this—angry, confused, unable to get Samir out of my mind.

We stopped at a light.

“Maybe this isn’t such a great idea.”

“What’s wrong?”

I hesitated. “I leave tomorrow and I’m not sure I want to start something we aren’t going to have a chance to really finish.”

The rest—the truth—was left unsaid. Because there, lingering somewhere in between all of my confusion, was the memory of my body wrapped around Samir’s.

Hugh studied me carefully. A tinge of annoyance crossed his face, along with something else I was afraid to name.

Would he lose interest if we didn’t have sex?

“I’m sorry.”

His expression softened. “Don’t be sorry. You’re offering me a rain check, then? Because it does sort of feel like you’re shooting me down.”

I nodded, my lips curving at the thought of me writing out a sex IOU. “Something like that. I promise I am definitely not shooting you down. I just need more time.”

Hugh leaned over, capturing my lips in another devastating kiss. “Why do I think you’re going to keep me on my toes, Maggie?”

I blushed. “Is that such a bad thing?”

My heart pounded as silence yawned between us.

Hugh leaned down and whispered in my ear. “I have a feeling you’ll be worth waiting for. And I can’t wait to collect on that rain check.”

Chapter 27

“Three, two, one…happy new year!”

I stared at the TV, watching the glittery ball drop in Times Square. It was depressing as hell to ring in the New Year by myself.

My grandparents had lasted until ten before going to bed. Jo and I were supposed to hang out together but she got sick, leaving me with a New Year’s Eve special hosted by a pop star I’d never even heard of.

If I were in London right now, I’d probably be out at some fabulous club with my friends. In South Carolina I sat by myself in a pair of ratty old pajamas.

Four more days.

My phone beeped. I leaned over, grabbing my cell off the table.

Happy New Year xxxx

It was a British cell number, but not one I recognized.

Thanks. Happy New Year. Who is this?
I hit send and waited for a response.

A minute later—

Samir…what are you wearing? Xxx

I burst out laughing. Classic Samir. It had only been a few weeks since I’d last seen him, but I missed him. Even despite our fight. I missed joking around with him—no one else gave me shit like he did and no one else made me want to throw it back. I couldn’t resist—

Wouldn’t you like to know?

A few seconds later—

Yes.

My heart pounded. My phone beeped again.

I’m sorry about that night. I was worried about you.

I blinked, re-reading the text, surprise filling me. I’d never heard Samir apologize for anything. And the fact that he was
worried
about me? That was new. I’d only seen him worry about Fleur.

The thing about Samir—which I would never, ever tell him—was that it was tough to stay mad at him. He was too funny, too charming when he wanted to be, too everything.

I’m sorry, too. I was drunk and angry.

I hit send and set my phone down, flipping off the TV.

A minute later my phone rang. “Hello?”

“Hi.” Samir’s voice filled the line.

I grinned. “Hi.”

Silence descended.

“Is this a bad time?”

“No. Not at all. I was just getting ready for bed.”

“So it’s the perfect time.”

“Something like that.”

“Wish I could be there.”

I chuckled, the knot in my chest slowly unraveling, “Sure you do.”

“How’s your break going?”

Horribly. My dad hadn’t even bothered calling on Christmas. And the “gift” he’d gotten me screamed of my grandmother’s attempt to buy something and pass it off as being from him.

“Let’s just say I’m ready to go back to London.”

“God, you and me both.”

“Where are you?”

“Gstaad. Switzerland. Skiing. It’s cold. I hate being cold.”

“I don’t know how you bear it. Rough life.”

He laughed. “Sometimes.”

I looked around the tiny room I grew up in—the worn carpet, the sheets I’d had since middle school. I doubted our lives could have been any different. It was weird to see my life overlap like this—the old and the new.

We made conversation for a few minutes—small talk about the weather, what our friends were up to. I lay back in bed, curling up under the sheets, listening to his voice, his accent lulling me to sleep.

“Maggie?”

“Yeah?”

“Getting sleepy?”

“Sorry. Yeah. It’s late here.”

Silence filled the line.

“Are you in bed?”

I blushed. His voice was seductive now, teasing. I doubted he knew how to turn it off. Maybe he didn’t want to.

“Yeah.”

There was another pause on the line. “I’ll let you go to sleep.” Samir’s voice sounded unusual, strained, even. “Maggie?”

“Yeah?”

Seconds ticked by before he spoke again.

“Did you sleep with him?”

Shock filled me. It was a simple question with a complicated answer. It wasn’t his business; he had no right. And yet—

I found the word tumbling from my lips.

“No.”

I thought I heard a sigh of relief on his end of the line, a released breath, or maybe it was just my imagination.

Samir was quiet for a moment. “Night. Sleep well. I’ll see you in a couple days.”

I fell asleep and when I dreamed, I dreamed of him.

* * *

This time the flight from Charlotte to London was much easier. I slept most of the way, thanks in part to my ability to land a coveted aisle seat. When we landed in London, I made my way through immigration with ease, grabbed my bags and hopped on the Tube.

I got off the Piccadilly line at Gloucester Road, lucky enough to snag a cab right outside the station. It was only a couple of miles to the school, but not doable with two massive suitcases trailing behind me.

It was still early, the city quiet. There was an odd stillness to London early in the morning. It was as if the city that never slept was taking a break, recharging its batteries, preparing for the day ahead. In a few hours these streets would be filled with people rushing to work, shopkeepers selling candy from the bodega, pubs getting ready to open for lunch. In a few hours the streets would become a sea of languages and people from all over the world.

I loved it.

We hit the park, turning on to High Street Kensington. When the cabbie turned down Embassy Row, I felt the first real sense of excitement—an eagerness to thrust open the door and jump out, bounding up the steps into the school. The building was as beautiful as always, the stone shining in the early-morning light.

“We’re here, luv.”

I handed the cabbie a ten-pound note. He helped me pull my bags up the front steps and I pushed open the entry doors.

I was home.

* * *

I sat at a cafeteria table with Fleur, Mya, Michael and Samir.

“I met someone,” Michael announced, effectively silencing the conversation at the table.

I grinned, leaning forward in my chair. “Spill.”

“Well, there was this hot guy on my flight to New York.” Michael leaned in closer, lowering his voice slightly. “He was Japanese. You know how I love Asian guys.”

“You do,” Fleur called out from across the table with a wink.

Samir rolled his eyes. “Do you people talk about anything else? It’s always, ‘I met this guy. I think he likes me. But he might not. But he called me. What does it mean?’”

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?”