I See London 1 (23 page)

I shivered. I needed air. Immediately.

* * *

“I’m glad you called,” I told Hugh, linking my fingers with his.

After the police arrived, we bailed on the party. Fleur left with Alessandro; Mya and Michael headed back to the dorms. The thought of going home to my room had been too depressing. I couldn’t stop wondering about Samir. Finally I ended up sending him a text.

Are you ok?

He hadn’t responded. The suspense was driving me nuts.

“I’m glad I called, too. It’s good to get to see you, even if Valentine’s Day is almost over.” Hugh leaned down, brushing a soft kiss to my temple. “I’m sorry your party didn’t go well.”

I laughed. “That is the understatement of the year.”

I’d been too embarrassed to fill Hugh in on the fight. Somehow I didn’t think nearly thirty-year-old men spent their Valentine’s Days engaging in public brawls. Plus, he still thought I was in grad school. I felt a twinge of guilt at the weight of my lies.

We held hands, walking through Chelsea. I’d taken a cab to meet Hugh at Cobalt just as he finished up work and he’d offered to walk me home, not that we had gotten very far.

“Come here,” Hugh whispered, pulling me into a dark alley. His arms wrapped around me, his hands slipping under my long coat. It took some maneuvering before his hands found the bare skin beneath my top. I shivered. His lips found mine, his mouth opening, plundering mine with his tongue.

My back hit the stone wall of the mews. Pressed between Hugh and the building, I felt every inch of his hard body against me. We stayed like that, making out in the dark mews, until something wet landed on my nose. I broke apart from Hugh and looked up at the sky. White drops fell from the sky in a lazy pattern, covering my face and coat. I laughed, the sound echoing through the narrow mews.

I had never seen snow before. It got pretty cold in South Carolina, but my grandparents lived too far south for us to actually see any real winter weather.

It felt like magic.

Hugh grinned, white drops of snow falling around his face and hair. He leaned down, kissing the snowflakes off the tip of my nose. He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me up against the warmth of his body. “Come on. Let’s get you out of the cold.”

We walked down the streets, our arms wrapped around each other. With the snow falling, the streets of London were remarkably quiet, most people driven inside by the cold. A few other couples walked around us, but for the most part it felt as if we had the town to ourselves. We walked past big glass store windows with elegant dresses and exotic shoes on display. I paused in front of one, catching the image of the girl walking by in the glass.

I wasn’t sure I even recognized her anymore.

She still looked like me. It was the same brown hair I’d had my entire life, the same brown eyes. But this girl—her smile was brighter than mine ever was, her clothes just a bit sharper. But what made me stop in my tracks and stare was that for the first time in my life, the girl staring back at me was one of those girls. The polished girls. She was happy and confident and had this glow about her I never had in South Carolina.

Her glow scared me.
She
scared me a little.

All my life I was defined by being the smart one. I wasn’t ugly; I just wasn’t pretty enough for it to be much of a factor. So I shut off that part of my life and focused on school. On Harvard. But now—now I was getting C pluses in classes and wearing designer heels. I was changing. And I wasn’t sure who I was anymore. Or who I wanted to be. For the first time in my life, I felt as if I had a blank canvas. And I had no idea what to do with it.

Up ahead a man stood outside one of the restaurants selling roses.

Hugh winked at me, pressing a swift kiss to my cheek, breaking me out of my reverie. “Wait here.”

He crossed the street in long, smooth strides. Something fluttered in my chest.

Hugh walked over to the guy, his long strides loping over the pavement. It was impossible to not feel admiration at the way he moved. With Hugh’s back to me, I couldn’t see his face, but I
knew,
and in response my heart pounded in my chest.

He turned around, a red rose dangling from his right hand. The pounding in my chest intensified. He closed the distance between us until there was merely a foot of space separating our bodies. A slow smile spread across his face. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

I stared down at the vibrant red rose, something like hope flickering in my chest. No guy had ever given me flowers before.

I reached out, taking the rose from him, our hands brushing against each other. For a moment I didn’t speak; emotion clogged my throat. I wanted to tell him how much it meant to me—this simple gesture made me feel special in a way no one ever had before.

“Thank you,” I replied, struggling to keep my voice light.

It was just a flower. A flower that made up for all of the dateless dances, the missed prom and the Valentine’s Days when the only flowers I received were carnations from Jo.

I closed the distance between us, the rose fisted in my hand, careful to avoid getting pricked by the thorns. I stood up on my tiptoes, even then his mouth just out of reach. Hugh leaned down, meeting me in the middle, his head brushing against mine. His lips found mine, the kiss taking more than it gave. I lost all sense of time, forgot we were standing on the sidewalk of a crowded London street. I thanked him for the rose with my hands and lips, in a way I could never do with words.

Hugh broke apart first, his lips traveling up my face, grazing my ear. Hovering there. Teasing there. “You’re driving me crazy, Maggie,” he whispered. I shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the weather. “You have to decide. Soon.” His breath came out hurried. “I don’t mean to rush you, but I want you.”

I could feel the looming deadline, knew I needed to make a decision soon. I wished I could be casual about it—I didn’t know why sex was such a big thing for me. But it was. And despite how hot Hugh was, I just didn’t feel ready and I wasn’t sure how much longer he would wait.

We finished our walk back to my place, our hands linked. Hugh gathered me close for a good-night kiss. My phone beeped.

I jerked back. “Sorry. I need to take this. I think it’s from Fleur,” I lied, my heart pounding in my chest.

I pulled out my phone, relief rushing through me as I read the message.

I’m fine. Sorry you had to see that. Happy Valentine’s Day. Xxxx.

“Everything okay, babe?”

I nodded mechanically, even though I was anything but. With Hugh’s rose clutched in one hand and the text from Samir in another, I’d never felt more confused—

And I couldn’t help but think—I didn’t even know what I wanted anymore.

Chapter 33

“Raise your hand if you had the worst Valentine’s Day.”

Four sets of hands went up. I was the lone dissenter. Four pairs of eyes shot me dirty looks.

“Sorry?” My expression was sheepish. “My Valentine’s Day wasn’t exactly perfect either.”

I might have spent Valentine’s Day with Hugh. But when I came home, I dreamed of Samir.

Samir snorted. “Try spending it locked in a cell.”

I shouldn’t have felt any sympathy for him. He was a big boy; he never should have gotten into that fight in the first place. But I couldn’t help hating the bruise on his face.

“Whose fault was that?” Fleur snapped. “I’m the one who had to get you bailed out. Not exactly how I wanted to spend my Valentine’s Day.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Children, please. I’d much rather hear Maggie’s Valentine’s Day story. What happened?”

It felt awkward talking about this in front of Samir. But if I started acting weird around him, everyone was going to figure out something was up. Besides, he’d made it clear he wasn’t looking for a relationship; he didn’t get attached to girls.

It shouldn’t matter.

“Things are getting complicated with Hugh and I don’t know what to do,” I explained, looking away from Samir.

Michael gave me a look. “Having a hot guy with an accent make out with you is
not
a bad Valentine’s Day.”

I blushed. “Okay, fine. It wasn’t bad. But I am freaking out.”

Samir’s head jerked up. His cheekbone was bruised; there was a cut over his right eye. He looked like hell. His mood didn’t appear to be much better. “Coffee. Now.”

I winced, passing him the pot of coffee.

He took it from me, our fingers grazing each other. It took a ridiculous amount of self-restraint to keep from curving my fingers around his. I jerked my hand back, placing it in my lap. Samir shot me a quizzical look before pouring a cup of coffee.

My lips twitched at the expression on his face. He was so surly it was kind of cute. “Okay, fine, maybe Samir wins.”

Fleur jumped into the conversation. “Uh-uh, I win.”

“Why do you win?” Mya countered. “You were the one who ended up leaving the party with Alessandro Marin.”

Fleur stabbed her eggs. “He wasn’t interested.”

We all stopped what we were doing and gaped at her. Only Samir was immune to the news. Either that or Fleur already filled him in. He continued eating breakfast as if she hadn’t even spoken.

Michael leaned forward. “What do you mean he wasn’t interested?” His voice sounded just a touch scandalized.

“He wasn’t. We started making out and then he stopped. And walked me to the door.”

Silence filled the table.

“Maybe he didn’t want to move too quickly?” Fleur shot me The Look. Yes, I was grasping at straws. But given how fragile things were with her and Costa, the last thing she was prepared to handle was more rejection.

Samir laughed at my comment, looking up from his coffee mug, his gaze piercing mine. “You can’t possibly still be that naive.”

I glared at him. Trust this to be the time he decided to get involved in the conversation. “Don’t be pissy with me because you got your ass kicked last night,” I snapped, annoyed with him for making a dig at me and Fleur.

His eyes narrowed. “I did not get my ass kicked.”

“Your face suggests otherwise.”

Fleur groaned. “It’s too early and I’m too hungover to have to deal with the two of you bickering right now.”

“We’re not bickering,” Samir argued. A hint of a smile crossed his face for the first time all morning. “This is just how Maggie and I talk.” He winked at me. “She likes it.”

My face heated before I turned my attention back to my breakfast.

The fucked-up thing was—I sort of did.

“I gotta head out,” Michael announced, getting up from the table. “Catch you guys later.”

Mya left with him, leaving me and Fleur sitting with Samir.

We ate in silence for a few minutes. Fleur broke it first. “Maggie needs dating help,” she announced.

I paused, midbite, choking on a piece of lettuce.

Samir’s gaze shifted to me. “Really?” he drawled.

I shot Fleur a look that said
drop it.
She ignored me.

“I don’t need dating advice.”

She ignored me. “You’re a guy. Help her out.”

Samir paused eating for a moment, a wicked, teasing smile crossing his face. “Tell me you’re not pregnant.”

“Keep your voice down! I’m not pregnant, you ass.” I glared at him.

Fleur grinned. “Maggie hasn’t given up the goods yet.”

“Fleur!” The last thing I needed was for her to be talking to Samir about my
sex life.

Samir didn’t speak for a moment. He groaned. “I’m not having this conversation. I haven’t slept. I spent last night in jail. I’m tired. I’m tired of listening to you two bitch about guys.” He paused, taking a bite out of his sandwich. “Why can’t you be more like Mya? She never bothers me with inane questions about what men want.”

He had a point. Mya was ridiculously calm about this stuff. I wished I could be like her. I just figured the odds of that were slim to none.

He leveled me with a steely glance. “You don’t need guy advice; you need to calm the fuck down.”

“I’m calm,” I argued.

“You’re not calm. This—” Samir gestured around me “—this craziness you’ve got going on…the guy can tell.”

Unfortunately, Samir saw all of me—the sane and the not so sane.

Fleur grinned at both of us. “Well, on that fun note, I gotta run to class. See you guys later.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, my teeth clenched. Trust Fleur to open Pandora’s box and then leave me to deal with it.

“Why are you scowling?” Samir asked.

I glared at him. “You’re totally useless.”

“Why? Because I don’t tell you what you want to hear?”

Yes.

“Because.”

Because I want to know if you care.

“Why?” Samir pressed.

“Because I never know when you’re being serious. I never know when you say things to be nice or when you’re trying to be an ass.”

“Do you trust me?”

I hesitated for a moment. My answer surprised me. Despite his attitude, he showed up when it counted. He could definitely be an asshole. But he was dependable. And he didn’t ask for much in return. He was always taking care of all of us in his own way—rescuing us, paying our way, providing a shoulder to cry on in unexpected moments.

I sighed. “Yeah, I do.”

“I tell you the truth,” Samir continued. “I always tell you the truth. I might not be telling you what you want to hear, but I’m telling you what you need to hear. You’re just ridiculously stubborn and refuse to listen.”

“I’m not stubborn.”

It was Samir’s turn to sigh. “Sure you aren’t.” It really wasn’t a good sign when Samir was beginning to look like the voice of reason. He cocked his head to the side, studying me carefully. “Why are you so bad at this?” His tone wasn’t judgmental; he genuinely seemed curious.

“I don’t know. Why do you suck at giving pep talks?”

He shrugged, a grin forming. “I’m not exactly the pep talk guy. I have other skills.” He winked.

I choked on my drink. “Ew, gross. Trust me, I don’t want to know anything about your skills.”

Those skills filled my dreams.

He didn’t respond. Instead he just stared at me, daring me to keep talking. I broke our stare first, the first one to lose the game of proverbial chicken.