I See London 1 (2 page)

I wasn’t shy—I could talk to adults, other girls, no problem. I was even okay with guys. But guys I liked?

Epic fail.

I stood there, pinned by the weight of his hot gaze and all that swagger. I literally could not push the words out of my mouth. I looked away, painfully aware of how flushed I must be.
Get me out of here, now.

His laughter, warm and smooth, filled the space behind me.

I walked into the school on shaky legs, cursing my rocky start. But as soon as I stepped into the entryway, nerves gave way to awe. The building was incredible. The walls and ceiling were wooden, symbols and characters carved in patterns on the ceiling. The floor was some sort of stone.

A woman at the front desk greeted me with a smile. “Welcome to the International School. We’re so glad to have you joining our family. Name, please.”

Her accent was difficult to place, not the traditional British accent I expected but something foreign and lyrical.

“Maggie Carpenter.”

“Nice to meet you, Maggie. I’m Mrs. Fox. I’m in charge of Residence Life. My staff and I will be responsible for your dorm room and for getting you settled into your new home here.” She thumbed through a stack of blue folders before pulling one out of the pile. “Here you go. The dorm rooms are split up by gender. Boys are in the east wing. Girls are in the west wing. The rooms are large enough to sleep three. You’ll find the code to get into your room in this folder along with your schedule. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to come to my office. It’s on the map.”

I took the folder from Mrs. Fox’s hands, struggling to keep the instructions straight through the haze of jet lag. I headed toward the stairs, moving through the crowd of students. At the end of the hallway, I stared up at the narrow staircase in front of me.

“Need some help?”

A cute, tall blond boy with a British accent smiled at me. He wore a blue polo shirt with the words
Residence Life
stitched on the front.

I hesitated. “No thanks. I can manage on my own.”

“Are you sure? Trust me, these steps are pretty intense.” He peered over at the sheet of paper in my hand. “And you’re on the third floor? That’s actually four floors up.”

“Huh?”

“Four floors. Not three. In London the main floor is considered the ground floor and the next floor up is the first floor. It’s different from how you do things in America.” He grinned. “Your accent sort of gave it away,” he offered by way of explanation. He reached out, grabbing the handles of my bags. “Come on. I’ll help you get to your room. I’m George.”

I followed him up the stairs. “Thanks. I’m Maggie.”

“Nice to meet you, Maggie. Where are you from?”

“South Carolina.”

His brow wrinkled for a moment. “Is that near New York? I’ve been there.”

I grinned. “Unfortunately it’s light years away from New York. It’s in the Southern part of the U.S. There’s not exactly a lot to do there.”

“I’m from Cornwall. Trust me, I get that.”

I followed George up another flight of stairs, struggling to keep up with him. I couldn’t stop gawking at my surroundings. I’d seen some pictures of the school online, but I’d figured those were the best shots. I hadn’t expected it to actually live up to the advertising. The place looked like a museum.

“So who are your roommates?”

I stared down at the piece of paper clutched in my hand, stumbling over the names. Apparently the school wasn’t joking when they advertised a diverse student body. “Umm, Noora Bader and Fleur Marceaux.”

George turned around, a strange expression on his face. His voice sounded like a strangled laugh. “Did you say Fleur Marceaux?”

I nodded.

This time he did laugh, the sound filling the narrow stairway. “Good luck with that one.”

Chapter 2

George dropped my bags off at the front of a long hallway marked by a number of heavy doors.

“This is as far as I go.”

“Do you turn into a pumpkin past this point or something?”

He laughed. “No. But your roommate is number one on Residence Life’s hit list.”

Oh, god.
“She can’t be that bad. Please tell me she’s not that bad.”

“Oh, she’s worse. We were in the same class last year. Trust me, I know.”

I never considered they would put me with someone older. “Worse, how?”

George grinned. “We call her the Ice Queen.”

I groaned.

“Apparently she used to model before coming to school. She was in a French rap video or something. Thinks she’s better than everyone else and isn’t afraid to let them know it.”

“Awesome. What about Noora?”

“I don’t know her. She must be a freshman.”

“Why don’t they put all the sophomores together?”

“Because none of the sophomores would have Fleur as a roommate. She was supposed to have a single but something fell through. She’ll probably be even more pissed off now.”

Fabulous.

“Look, if you want to apply for a roommate change, come by our office. We’re on the ground floor.”

I smiled weakly, mentally already racing to the office. “Thanks.”

I walked down the hall, dread filling me as I searched for room 301. I stopped in front of a door with three name tags on it. I looked down at the room code on the piece of paper, struggling to punch in the numbers on the little metal keypad. I turned the knob. Nothing. I stared back at the numbers.

Three tries later I was in.

I swung open the door, dragging my first bag over the threshold, stopping short at the sight of the room that was to be my home for the next year. It was small. Ridiculously small. Everything was pretty basic, three small beds, three wardrobes, three desks…and two big windows. I walked over, peering out at the view of Hyde Park. The lush green trees, the expanse of grass, the heavy iron gates—the magic of it all—made up for everything else.

I spent the next hour unpacking my suitcases, hanging clothes up in the tiny wooden wardrobe the school provided. Thankfully I was the first one to arrive. I set a few things out—my favorite books, a few mementos from home, pictures with friends.

The sound of the door opening startled me.

“Hi.”

A girl stood in the doorway, bags on her shoulders. Her hair was covered by a gorgeous purple silk scarf.

“Please tell me this is the right place.”

“I’m Maggie. Are you Noora?”

She waved with her free hand. “Nice to meet you.”

I grinned. “Nice to meet you, too.”

She dropped her bags down on the empty bed. “Is this it?”

“Yeah. Hard to believe they mean for three of us to live here, isn’t it?”

“Have you met the other girl?”

“I haven’t. I heard she’s a sophomore, though.” I didn’t mention the rest.

“Are you a freshman?” Noora asked.

“Yep.”

“Me, too.”

“Nice. Where are you from?”

“Oman.”

Way more glamorous than South Carolina. We chatted for a few more minutes, talking about our backgrounds. I liked her immediately; she was so friendly and outgoing, it was impossible not to. If Fleur was the Ice Queen, Noora was her polar opposite. I spent an hour helping Noora unpack before she left the room to go visit with a friend from home. Still no sign of my third roommate. Maybe she wouldn’t ever show up.

A girl could dream.

As soon as Noora left, I called my grandmother. It was early morning in the U.S., but she’d always been an early riser.

“How are you settling in?”

A wave of homesickness rushed over me at the sound of her voice. I even missed the Southern accent I’d worked so hard to erase from my own. I leaned back against my bed, tucking my knees against my chest.

“It’s going. It’s still early, though.”

“Have you made any friends?”

“The people seem nice so far.” I didn’t mention Fleur. My grandmother worried enough as it was.

“Have you been getting enough to eat?” She was always trying to fatten me up.

I grinned. “I promise I’m going to go get lunch soon. Although I bet the food won’t be anywhere near as good as yours.”

Ever since my mom left, my grandparents had raised me. They were my parents more than my biological ones were. And still—

Not quite the same.

“Have you heard from Dad?”

“Sorry, honey. I haven’t.”

I pushed down the familiar hurt that rose in my throat, forcing the words out. “Do you know where he is now?”

“Somewhere in the Middle East, I think. You know how these things are, honey. He can’t say where.”

“When do you think he’ll be back?”

“Hopefully by Christmas. He said he might be able to come home this year. We could spend Christmas together again.”

I hadn’t spent a Christmas with my dad in at least three years. But I didn’t want to disappoint her. He
did enough of that.

“That sounds great, Grandma.”

We talked for a few more minutes before I hung up the call, tears welling up in my eyes. We’d never been apart for more than a day or two. I wiped at my face, surprised by the emotion filling me.

For a moment I just sat there, wallowing. I felt disgusting. I’d been traveling for fifteen hours and jet lag was creeping up on me. I needed a shower. I grabbed a towel and my bath stuff, heading for the door. The school had communal bathrooms on each floor—thankfully divided by gender. It was one of the things I had been dreading about dorm life. I wasn’t exactly a get naked in front of everyone kind of girl.

The bathroom, like my dorm room, was a bit of a disappointment.
Definitely keeping my flip-flops on for this one.

I settled into the shower just as the first tears began to fall.

* * *

It felt weird walking back to my room in just a towel, but the only places to change in the bathroom were fairly public. This seemed like the lesser of two evils. I clutched the top of the terry cloth with a tight fist. At least I felt a little more human after my shower.

Luckily the floor was still pretty empty as I padded down the hall. This was the first day students could move into the dorms but school didn’t start for a few days. I’d come early to get the lay of the land and learn my way around London. I stopped in front of my door, shifting my bath caddy to the other hand so I could punch in the code. This time I got in on the first try.

Shutting the door behind me, I set down my bath stuff and grabbed the clothes I’d left on the bed. Then I unwrapped the towel from my body, letting it drop to the floor.

“I was wrong. You’re definitely my type.”

I whirled around in shock at the sound of that voice, smooth and teasing, my gaze colliding with the boy from the steps—

And then his gaze traveled lower, and he wasn’t looking at my eyes anymore.

Chapter 3

For a moment I couldn’t move. I just stood there, gaping at him, convinced this was some sort of nightmare I would eventually wake from.

I blinked.

Still there.

Samir lay sprawled on the empty bed—Fleur’s bed—his hands behind his head, his ankles crossed. He looked perfectly comfortable, lazy even—except for his eyes. His eyes blazed as they explored my naked body—starting at my breasts, roaming lower…

His gaze lingered like a caress over my bare skin, leaving a flash of heat in its wake.

I shrieked.

Lunging to grab the towel from the floor, I wrapped it hastily around my body, as if its mere presence was enough to erase my nakedness from his memory. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer me. Instead his eyes lifted back to mine, slowly, his lips quirking.

“What is wrong with you?” I snapped. My cheeks reddened. Hell, I blushed
everywhere.
“Are you some kind of perv or something?”

He laughed, the sound rich, filling the dorm room. It should be illegal to laugh like that. “That’s one I haven’t been called before.”

“Well, maybe you should be. Why the hell are you spying on me?”

He grinned. “I wasn’t spying. I was waiting for someone. The show was just an added bonus. One I thoroughly enjoyed, by the way”

I crossed my arms over my chest. I wanted to die. More accurately, I wanted him to die.

Samir laughed again, the sound sending a flutter through my body.

I needed to put on clothes—sweatpants, preferably, and a parka.

“I’m pretty sure I’m going to be enjoying this little memory for a while.” He rose from the bed, his body uncoiling, the move graceful and unhurried. He had style, I’d give him that.

I expected him to walk out the door, but instead he moved toward me, each step bringing a new set of nerves and anticipation.

“What are you doing?” I stumbled over the words, my voice coming out as a squeak.

This had to be a dream.

His gaze never left mine. I wanted to look away, wanted to turn around. I wanted to bolt, but something kept me in place.

My feet were rooted to the floor.

“What are you doing?” I repeated when he stopped inches away from me, close enough that the scent of his cologne teased me. He was taller than I’d originally thought, forcing me to tilt my head up to meet his gaze.

He reached out, his finger grazing my collarbone. The touch of his hand against my bare skin sent a shiver through me. No one had ever touched me like this. I sighed, the sound filling the room. He froze, his finger hovering over my flesh. I opened my mouth to say something—to push him away—but I came up blank. All of my thoughts were focused on the point where his finger hovered over me, mesmerized by the sight of his skin against mine, of the possibility of that hand dipping lower…

“Samir!”

The voice broke me out of my stupor. I whirled around, staring at the door.

A girl stared back at me through narrowed eyes and a pissed-off expression. She was tall. Way taller than me. Her thin body was encased in an outfit that looked like it belonged in a magazine. Shiny brown hair and boxy bangs framed a slender face with high cheekbones. One perfectly shaped eyebrow arched at the sight of me. There was only one person it could be—

I’d never seen a French rap video, but I could definitely imagine
her
in one.