I See London 1 (6 page)

He’s your roommate’s boyfriend.

My class schedule was full—fifteen credit hours—but for the most part, the classes were interesting. My professors were nice enough. Just like the student body, the faculty was a diverse group. I had five professors total, each from a different country.

I also had a ton of reading to do for the weekend.

After classes got out on Friday afternoon, I took the Tube down to Westminster. I was still learning the way the complicated system worked, trying to feel like a real Londoner. Luckily the color-coded lines helped a bit. I took the green line down a few stops from High Street Ken. When I left the station, I turned my head, struggling to get my bearings. Then I saw it.

The Houses of Parliament were one of the most awe-inspiring things I’d ever seen. They dominated the landscape, proud and strong. I crossed the street, standing in a grassy square opposite the buildings. I basked in the moment. This was the epicenter of history and politics. Greatness happened here. And somehow I was a part of it.

I hadn’t totally chosen the International School on a whim. When I received that horrid letter from Harvard, I panicked. I didn’t have a backup plan—not a good one, anyway. I had no desire to stay in the same town where I’d lived my whole life, feeling like I never quite fit in. I wanted a chance to do something different. If I couldn’t make one of my dreams happen, I wanted a chance at another one.

Ever since I was a kid I’d been fascinated by England. I couldn’t say for sure when the love affair started. Maybe it was all the pomp and majesty that came with the monarchy, so different from my quiet life in South Carolina. Or maybe it was the history or my romanticism, the love of books filled with dukes and earls. Whatever it was, London had been a dream, one I promised I would indulge when I graduated university and made something of myself.

Now, standing in front of Parliament, I felt the sense of accomplishment that had eluded me since my Harvard rejection. I was living my dream now.

Chapter 7

“So how is it? Are you homesick?”

I leaned back against my pillow, shifting the phone in my hand. My roommates were out for the day and it was the first time I had really had any privacy to call home. I talked to my grandparents before calling my best friend, Jo.

“It’s amazing. Even better than I thought it would be.”

“I’m so jealous.”

I grinned. “Whatever. You’re probably hanging out with all the frat guys at Carolina.”

“Okay, yeah, maybe I’ve been to a few parties.”

Jo was my oldest and closest friend. We met in the fifth grade when her mom forgot to pack her a lunch and I shared my pretzels with her. From that lunch we hit it off, despite the fact that we were an odd pairing. While I spent most of high school studying and focusing on Harvard, Jo spent her high school years partying with the football team.

“So how are the guys? Any hot British guys?”

I grinned. Trust Jo to get to the good stuff. “I did meet one.”

“Spill.”

I filled Jo in on the Hugh story, not in the least surprised by her excited squeals.

“Are you going to go to his bar?”

I hadn’t really thought about it. After everything that happened that night, Hugh hadn’t exactly been at the forefront of my mind.

“I don’t know.”

“Have you met anyone else? Have you kissed anyone yet?”

I blushed, grateful she couldn’t see my face. “Sort of.”

Jo shrieked into the phone. “Oh, my god, Maggie. I can’t believe I missed your first kiss. I need details on these things.”

I laughed. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ve been a bad friend. I should have called you instantly and filled you in.”

“Well, you can make it up to me now. Spill. Now.”

There was no way to tell the story and not come across looking like a bit of a ho.

“It’s not what you think. The guy is kind of an ass.”

“So why did you kiss him?”

“It just sort of happened. I don’t know. We were both drinking a lot, and then we were dancing, and we kissed. It was just a random, one-time thing.”

“Was it good?”

I hesitated.
So good I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
“Yeah, it was.”

“Are you going to do it again?”

Only in the strangely erotic dreams I couldn’t seem to shake.

“Nope.”

There was a pause on the end of the line.

I sighed. “Fine. What?”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“I know you aren’t. I’ve also known you long enough to know that means something. So spill.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way—”

I laughed. “Well, that’s an encouraging start.”

“I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.”

“You do realize that making out with a random guy is the first spontaneous thing I’ve probably ever seen you do.”

“That’s not fair,” I protested. “I came to London. What was that if not spontaneous?”

“Okay, fine. You’re right. You going to London was a little spontaneous. But you have to admit, you weren’t
really
going outside of your comfort zone. You’ve been talking about London since we were kids.”

“And drunkenly making out with a random guy is now your definition of spontaneity?”

“For you? Yes.”

Silence filled the line. I thought back to the dreams I’d been having since the night Samir and I kissed at Babel. This shit was way more complicated than I expected it to be. “I don’t know how to handle him. He’s way out of my league.”

“Try.”

“And he’s dating my roommate.”

“YOU KISSED YOUR ROOMMATE’S BOYFRIEND?”

I winced. “Thanks, Jo. I don’t think they heard you in Lithuania. He kissed me. But yeah, pretty much. And she’s an überbitch, so I’m just waiting for this to get out and her to kill me. Not to mention the fact that I’ve probably broken like fifty girl codes.”

Jo sighed. “Oh, Mags. When you go in, you go all in.”

“Tell me about it.”

* * *

“So what’s on the agenda for tonight?” Mya leaned back in her chair, pushing a half-eaten plate of food away.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Want to watch a movie or something? I should probably get started on homework.”

Mya frowned at me. “It’s Friday night. We just got through our first week of school. We’re not staying in and watching a movie. And homework is definitely out of the question. My brain needs a break.” Her eyes lit up. “Let’s go to Cobalt.”

Apparently filling her in on meetin Hugh had been a mistake. “Absolutely not. No way.”

“Why not? You said you liked the guy. The least you could do is check out his bar.”

The idea of seeing Hugh again sent a little thrill down my spine. And a wave of nausea in my stomach. Showing up at Hugh’s bar required balls I just didn’t have.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” I bluffed.

“You can wear one of my dresses.”

I shot her a dubious expression. Mya was five-nine and built like a gazelle. I was more of the pony variety. I pushed the food around my plate. “I don’t know what to say to him. I feel silly just showing up.”

She rolled her eyes. “He wouldn’t have invited you if he wasn’t interested.”

“I can’t just go to some bar. What if we don’t get in?”

“Get in where?”

I turned around, surprised by the sound of Fleur’s voice. She stood over the table, her long hair pulled back in a high ponytail. She was dressed in workout clothes—a hot-pink stretchy top and fitted black pants. Trust Fleur to make going to the gym a fashion show.

“To this bar in Chelsea,” Mya answered, ignoring my dirty looks. “Cobalt. Have you heard of it?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, it’s a decent place. Who is going?”

“Me and Maggie.”

“We haven’t decided yet,” I corrected. As much as I didn’t want to go to Cobalt, I really didn’t want to go to Cobalt with Fleur.

Fleur sat down in the chair opposite mine, not bothering to wait for an invitation to join us. “Why Cobalt?”

She posed the question to Mya, ignoring me.

I shot Mya a look.

“Maggie met a guy at Babel. He owns Cobalt and invited her to stop in to say hi.” Mya wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Fleur’s gaze shifted to me, lingering on my face. Her eyes narrowed for a moment—I had no idea what she saw there but I couldn’t help but feel I’d been judged and found wanting.

“What are you going to wear?” There was just a hint of scorn in her voice.

“She’s going to borrow one of my dresses,” Mya volunteered. Her eyes lit up. “Why don’t you do her hair and makeup?”

Fleur shrugged. “Why not? I don’t have any plans tonight anyway.” Her voice trailed off and a frown crossed her face.

A boy, the likes of which I had only seen in movies, strolled in with a stunning brunette tucked against his side. He had similar coloring to Fleur’s, his dark hair and eyes suggesting some Greek or Italian heritage. For a moment his gaze traveled over the table, before it stopped, lingering on Fleur.

She stiffened, ducking her gaze. She pushed back from the table.

What was that about?

“Fine, we’ll meet at nine.”

I blinked. Did Fleur actually just make a plan to hang out with me? Part of me wanted to go. Part of me was still scared. Hugh had been cute—and he’d seemed a little interested in me. I didn’t want to spend my college years single. Besides Jo had a point. I needed to be more spontaneous, needed to put myself out there more. I did
not
need to focus on a certain kiss I couldn’t get out of my mind.

“Fine. But no guys, okay?”

Fleur nodded, her voice sounding relieved. “It’ll be a girls’ night.”

She left, leaving me and Mya sitting alone at the table.

“What was that about?”

Mya shrugged. “She hasn’t been herself lately. I think she’s mellowing a bit.”

I gaped at her. “You mean this is Fleur, less bitchy?”

“Less high-strung, at least,” Mya said with a smile.

I jerked my head toward where the Italian/Greek guy sat with the bombshell. “What was the deal with that? Who is he?”

Mya frowned. “Fleur’s ex, Costa.”

“Was that the guy she dated before Samir?”

Mya laughed. “They’re not a couple.”

Everything stopped. “What do you mean they’re not a couple?”

“Fleur and Samir? Not even kind of.”

“But they’re always together,” I sputtered.

Now that I thought about it, I’d never seen them kiss or anything. And Samir didn’t really look at Fleur like that. But I’d just assumed…

“They’re friends. Besides, Samir’s kind of a player. I don’t think he does girlfriends. He kind of has
bad idea
written all over him.”

I’d noticed. Too bad my body hadn’t gotten the memo.

* * *

I waited for Fleur and Mya on the front steps. I was beyond nervous. I didn’t do things like this—chase after a guy. At least the old version of me didn’t. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the new me. She seemed a little reckless.

“Hot date?”

My head jerked up as my stomach did a somersault. I knew that voice.

Samir stood in front of me, dressed in a collared dress shirt and jeans. A flush spread across my cheeks.

“Maggie?”

“Hi.” It came out as a squeak.

Was it my imagination or did his gaze sweep over my body, lingering on my boobs? I crossed my arms over my chest.

He grinned. “You look good.”

So do you.

“Thanks.”

“On your way out?”

“Girls’ night with Fleur and Mya.”

His smile widened. “So you and Fleur made peace?”

I laughed. “I wouldn’t say we made peace. That might be overly optimistic.”

“You’d be surprised. She’s not so bad. It just takes her awhile to warm up to people.”

That seemed like the understatement of the year, but I let it slide. I still couldn’t get past the fact that they weren’t dating.

Samir shoved his hands in his front jeans pockets, a flash of tan skin showing at the motion. My gaze was riveted to the spot. My fingers itched to reach out and touch him there. I fisted my hands on my hips.

“So are we going to talk about it?”

I jerked my head up. A knowing smile spread across Samir’s lips. An awkward tension filled the air between us. It was strange to think that on one hand we’d been more intimate than I’d ever been with anyone and yet he still felt like a total stranger.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I bluffed.

He quirked a brow at me, his head tilted to the side, his expression considering. “So that’s how you’re going to play it?”

“Pretty much.”

I knew I was the polar opposite of smooth, but I didn’t know what to say to him.

Samir grinned. “Fine. I have my memories to keep me company.” He winked at me. “And believe me, I have plenty of good memories.”

I reached out and shoved him, the move reflexive, my hand fisting the expensive fabric of his shirt. I froze mid-motion, my hand clutching the fabric, half-pulling him towards me, half-pushing him away.

Samir’s voice deepened, grew seductive. “Why won’t you admit you want me? It was pretty obvious when your body was wrapped around mine.”

I flushed. “My body was never wrapped around yours,” I snapped, releasing my hold on his shirt. “It was a one-time, stupid, drunken thing. It’ll never happen again.”

“Sure it won’t,” Samir mocked.

Another worry clicked into my brain. “You haven’t told anyone, have you?”

His dimple flashed at me. “Told anyone about what?”

He was utterly impossible. “You know what I’m talking about.”

He tossed me a knowing smile. “I thought you didn’t remember. You might have to refresh my memory. A lot happened at Babel.”

“The kiss, you ass,” I hissed, careful to keep my voice low. That seemed like the safest way to describe it.

This time he flashed me a full-on grin. “I seem to remember a lot more than just a kiss happening. I seem to remember exploring you with my hands, tasting you, your body pressed up against the wall—”

“Did you tell anyone?” I bit out, cutting off his little monologue.

He paused, lingering over his answer. “Not yet.” He took a few steps forward, closing the distance between us. Something tumbled in my chest. His lips brushed against my cheek, pressing a swift kiss there. Just as he’d done at Babel before we’d parted ways.