I See London 1 (9 page)

The flash went off.

So this is what it was like. This is what it felt like to be wanted. To be one of the cool kids.

I fucking loved it.

I grinned at Fleur, too carried away by the moment to be pissed with her. She had a point—on top of the platform it was impossible not to feel as though you were on top of the world. She flipped her hair back, tossing me a smug little smile. She was definitely enjoying herself as much as I was. There was power here, power in being a girl, power I’d never realized before.

I was drunk on it now.

I locked eyes with Samir across the room. He sat nursing a drink, the girl finally dislodged from his lap. He wasn’t smiling. The force of his stare surprised me.

This time I didn’t look away. I met his gaze head-on, shaking my ass to the music. Fleur grabbed my hand, pulling me into a twirl—she was definitely a little drunk—and then I was facing Samir again. He hadn’t stopped staring.

I didn’t care.

I didn’t want to be the lame girl everyone walked all over—I wanted this feeling, this rush, to last forever. I jerked my gaze away from Samir, passing over the crowd until it rested on—

A very tall, hot guy in a black jacket. Hugh.

Chapter 11

Our eyes locked across the crowded club. Hugh’s lips spread into a wide grin as he nodded his head toward me.

Fleur nudged me. “Aren’t you glad you came up here and danced? Now he sees he has competition.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Look.”

I followed her gaze. Sure enough, guys were standing near the platform, watching us dancing. Hugh made his way through the crowd, walking toward the platform.

“Hi, gorgeous.”

I grinned, relishing the sound of his crisp British accent. He was so hot. And I was ready for him. “Hi.”

“Can I give you a hand?”

I took his outstretched palm, putting my hand in his. Our fingers locked as he pulled me down from the platform, one hand firmly on my waist. As I slid down, our bodies brushed against each other.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

I grinned. “I wondered if you would be here tonight.”

“I’m glad I am. Can I get you a drink?”

His hand was so much larger than mine; it was impossible not to feel tiny in his presence. I liked it. I liked everything about him. We walked to the bar together.

He ordered our drinks and guided me to a bench near the DJ booth. He draped his arm around my shoulders, his lips just skimming my ear. His hand played with the ends of my hair, the backs of his fingers barely touching the exposed skin above my collarbone. His touch was soothing…and not. It felt like the start of something. I just wasn’t entirely sure what.

Hugh pulled back slightly, his gaze meeting mine. “I’ve been wanting to touch you since the first day we met.”

Holy shit.

“Here.” He pressed a swift kiss to my neck. “And here.” His lips grazed my skin. “And definitely here.” Hugh’s head leaned in closer, his minty breath filling my nostrils. His lips brushed against mine. I opened my mouth slightly, a sigh escaping.

It was all the invitation he needed.

Hugh deepened the kiss, his hands reaching out to pull me forward onto his lap. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling our bodies closer together. His body felt hard beneath mine and I couldn’t resist the urge to press against him, to wrap my body around his strength.

Instinctively I looped my arms around his neck, bringing our bodies in closer contact, pulling him towards me. Someone—possibly me—moaned. His hand moved from my waist, sneaking up my leg, beginning at my ankle, gradually, leisurely, traveling north.

My body burned everywhere.

Anywhere else our behavior would have earned some strange looks and—given the way his hands roamed over my body—possibly an arrest. But this was London. We were just another couple in a long line of couples making out in the nightclub. The anonymity of the dark and the music made it feel like we were in our own private world. It was so easy to get lost in his kiss.

“Come back to my place,” Hugh whispered, his hand high on my thigh.

I stilled, my heart pounding. After what must have been an hour with Hugh’s hands and lips all over my body, I felt like saying yes to anything.

“Maggie?”

I jerked away from Hugh. Mya stood behind me, a grin on her face.

“We’re about to go. Do you need a ride?”

I was a virgin. He was twenty-seven. And so obviously not a virgin. If we went back to Hugh’s place, he was going to want to pick up where we left off. And I doubted he would stop with a kiss. He was hot—and he was an
amazing
kisser—and I totally wasn’t ready for him.

I turned toward Hugh. “I’m really sorry, but I should go. I had a great time, though.”

“Don’t worry about it, babe.”

I was surprised at how easily he accepted it.

He pulled out a cell phone from his jacket pocket. “Why don’t you give me your number and we can go out to dinner sometime?”

Yes!

“Sure.” I struggled to keep my voice nonchalant. I pressed the number into his phone, struggling with the keys.

Hugh leaned back on the bench, his face flushed, his lips swollen. He looked every inch the satisfied male. Well, somewhat satisfied. “I’ll see you around, babe.”

I walked out of Babel, feeling as if I was walking on air.

As we gathered our stuff to leave, my gaze met Samir’s. He looked through me, turning to Fleur, not even bothering to speak English. He acted like I didn’t exist.

Was he judging me for making out with Hugh in the same spot I’d kissed him? A pang of guilt hit me. I’d never been that girl, never understood how girls could bounce from one guy to the next. I was the serious girl, the one who didn’t take things lightly, who didn’t do flings. I wanted a relationship—wanted something solid.

Inexperienced or not, Samir had
unavailable
written all over him. If I gave an inch, he would take my heart and put it through a blender. I’d already suffered enough disappointment at the hands of a man, thanks to my father; I didn’t need to add to my losses.

Hugh seemed different. He was a chance. One I wanted to take. With Hugh I could be someone else. I wanted that chance..

Samir didn’t speak to me the whole way home.

* * *

I couldn’t sleep.

Nervous energy poured through me. There was something about tonight. I felt as though I had become a different person, taken a chance, changed the path my life was on. It felt good.

I grabbed a book, shutting the door behind me gently so I wouldn’t wake Noora. It was still late—or early, really—we’d gotten back from the club at four a.m. I had no idea where Fleur was.

I headed down to the common room, hoping it would be empty. It was usually the site of large groups watching football (soccer) matches but hopefully there wasn’t one going on right now in any part of the world. I pushed open the door, but instead of the silence I craved, a loud voice filled the room.

Fleur sat curled up on one of the couches, on the phone, yelling in French. I’d seen her pissed off before, but I’d never seen her this angry. Suddenly she threw the phone at the wall. It bounced before hitting the floor. I watched, mesmerized, as the first tears began to fall. She sobbed, her body rocking back and forth, her body curled up in a little ball.

I couldn’t help but stare. The whole scene before me just felt surreal.

I hovered in the doorway. We weren’t friends; there was no need for me to say anything to her. She’d been cold to me from the beginning.

But she cried as though her heart had been broken. And I knew exactly how that felt.

I closed the door behind me, walking toward her. “Are you okay?”

Fleur’s chin jerked. A flush spread across her cheeks. For a moment I didn’t think she was going to answer me.

“I’m fine.”

I sat next to her on the couch, silent for a moment. “You don’t look fine.”

Her face was splotchy, tears still running down her cheeks. She laughed bitterly. “Go away.” Her lip trembled.

She may have been telling me to leave, but her eyes said otherwise. She looked lonely. Maybe Mya was right, maybe she really did just need a friend.

I sat down next to her on the couch. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Fleur laughed again. “What, we danced together—I let you hang out with us once—and now you think we’re friends?”

The words stung. But I could tell by the look in her eyes that she meant them to. She was either the biggest bitch in the world or she was hurting. And I knew a thing or two about pushing people away.

“Mya told me about your birthday. And your mom.”

She didn’t speak.

I shrugged. “I’ve been there. I’ve seen my dad a handful of times in the past five years. My mom left us when I was a kid. I barely remember her.” I threw out the words like they meant nothing, like they weren’t a part of me. It was more than I normally shared.

It was a few moments before she answered. “She’s getting a facial in Switzerland.” Fleur wiped her eyes. “I wanted her to come so badly. And she blew me off to go get a facial.”

“I’m sorry.”

Fleur shook her head. “I don’t know why I bother anymore. She does shit like this all the time.”

“What about your dad?”

“He’s even worse. He’s so busy that he doesn’t even bother with me. He didn’t call. Didn’t even send a card.”

I felt bad for her. At least I had my grandparents.

“That sucks.”

Fleur sighed. “It definitely does suck.” What might have been embarrassment flashed across her face. “There’s no need to babysit me. You can go now.”

“Okay.” I rose from the couch and headed toward the door. Halfway there, I hesitated. I turned to face Fleur. I was sick of the back and forth with her, sick of feeling like we’d finally made progress and then taking two steps backwards. “What’s your deal with me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you hate me?” I asked, my tone blunt. “I didn’t do anything to you and let’s be real, you’ve kind of been a massive bitch to me. I’ve heard your rep, but still you’re nowhere near as mean to Noora or anyone else. What gives?”

“What rep?” Her eyes narrowed. “The whole Ice Queen thing?” I nodded. “What else have you heard about me?”

Fleur was pretty much a legend around here. The rumors ranged from the bizarre to the truly unbelievable.

“You know.”

“The whole dating-an-arms-dealer thing?” I nodded. “And the French rap video?” I nodded. “And the thing about me breaking up a professor’s marriage?” I winced. That one was particularly popular.

Her tone was bored. “I got asked to be in the video when I was walking down the Champs-Élysées. I was sixteen. My parents hated the idea, so of course I had to do it. It wasn’t all that exciting. I modeled for a while in Paris because it pissed off my parents. There was never an arms dealer. And I wouldn’t touch one of these professors with a ten-foot pole.”

“Fair enough.”

She hesitated for a beat. “And I don’t hate you.”

“Right.”

She shook her head. “I don’t.” She made a face, her tone reluctant. “You were kind of fun tonight. You’re really not bad.”

I laughed, shaking my head wryly. “You really have a way with compliments. I’m going to head back to the room. Happy birthday.”

I reached the door when Fleur called out to me—

“He’s my best friend.”

I froze, my hand on the doorknob.

“He’s my best friend. He doesn’t have girl friends, doesn’t hang out with other girls. But he wants you around.”

My heart pounded in my chest. I didn’t have to ask who
he
was.

I turned. “Samir and I aren’t friends,” I protested.

“He likes you.”

That
made me laugh. “I’m pretty sure you’re wrong about that one. I’m not taking your friend away from you. Anyone can tell you guys are close. I don’t even want to be friends with Samir.”

Fleur shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“Is that seriously why you’ve been so tough on me?”

“I don’t share.”

There was something in the water at this school, something that made seemingly normal people thrive off of ego and status and power in a way I wasn’t sure I would ever understand.

“So what you’re saying is that Samir is yours.”

“Not like that,” she corrected me.

“Well, whatever you think, you’re wrong. I can’t stand him most of the time. He’s a pain in the ass and he seriously needs to be taken down a peg or two. I’m not trying to screw up your little best-friends-forever vibe you have going on. Seriously. I’d just like to not be saddled with a roommate who loathes me for the rest of the year. I thought we had fun tonight. And at Cobalt. You have your moments where you’re almost nice.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Can we have a truce? Please? It’s going to be a really long year if we keep this up. Not to mention the fact that I’m getting really sick of taking your shit.”

Fleur was silent for a moment and then her lips curved into a smile. “Fine. You can be part of the group.”

“That’s it?” Maybe Samir had been right about the show no fear thing.

“Like I said, you’re not that bad.” Coming from Fleur that sounded like the highest of compliments.

I laughed. “Really? You sure about that?”

She grinned. “Yeah. I am.”

Chapter 12

Fall came to London, the leaves in Hyde Park changed, the weather turned cooler and I adjusted fully to the rhythm of life at the International School.

Noora and I became closer. Instead of going out, I stayed in with her, watching movies in the common room and eating my way through British candy. Sometimes Fleur joined us. After our common-room truce, things more or less improved with her. Slowly at first and then somehow, as unlikely as it was, we sort of became friends. As roommates the three of us got along pretty well. Our interests were different enough that we each had our own space.

For the first time since I had gotten to the International School, I finally felt like I belonged. I had a solid group of friends now, and little by little I was starting to get to know everyone. In high school I never quite felt like I fit in. Here I hit my stride. My love life, on the other hand?