London Falling. Chanel Cleeton
I still couldn’t get the image of her lifeless body out of my mind.
“I’m not an ice queen.” The hurt in Fleur’s voice surprised me.
“I know you’re not,” I answered. “But maybe you should try letting everyone else see that, too.”
“So what, I’m supposed to smile at everyone and start talking about my feelings all the time? I’m not that girl.”
“Tell me about it,” Michael joked under his breath. I elbowed him. “What? She’s not. We all know it.”
“You’re fine. Exactly as you are.” I was probably the last person who should be giving romantic advice, but I couldn’t resist. I’d seen her struggles with Costa firsthand—I desperately wanted her to find a nice guy. One who didn’t fuck around with her heart.
“Find a guy who doesn’t want to change you. A guy who loves you when you’re bitchy. We love you when you’re bitchy—mostly. The right guy will, too.”
Fleur made it hard for people to get close to her. There was the public version she gave the world—the girl who kept a tight circle of friends, wasn’t accepting of new people and appeared to glide through life, looking down on us mere mortals. Then there was the private Fleur—the friend I’d gotten to know and love—who was fiercely loyal and protective. The girl who made you laugh and could show you the time of your life.
She was quiet for a moment. “Maybe I’ll see if George wants to grab coffee or something. I never did thank him for bringing me those flowers.”
George was one of the sweetest guys I’d met in London. But I also knew Fleur. She was my best friend and I loved her to death, but she was still a bit of a mess. George wasn’t exactly the kind of guy you practiced on.
“Be careful with him, Fleur. He’s a nice guy.”
A flash of hurt crossed her face. “And what? You think I can’t handle a nice guy?”
“No. I think you need a nice guy more than anything. But George has had a crush on you for a while now, and he’s my friend, too. I don’t want to see him get hurt.” I knew firsthand how it felt to want someone you knew was out of your league, how much it hurt when they didn’t want you back. “Just be careful. Please.”
CHAPTER SIX
Maggie
WE CELEBRATED THE END of the first week of school by heading out to a bar in Soho that Fleur had been dying to go to. I dressed casually in a pair of skinny jeans and heels paired with a red halter top. I didn’t put too much thought into my outfit because it was supposed to be just the girls. Until Fleur invited Samir and Michael along.
If this continued, I was really going to have to find new friends.
It was already 11:00 p.m. when we arrived and crammed into one of the few tables left, my body squished in between Mya and Michael. Fleur and Samir sat opposite us.
The bar was pretty low-key, just on the edge between trendy and seedy, situated next to a sex shop with a very interesting window display. We didn’t come to this part of town a lot, but for some reason, the change fit my mood. Less baggage going to new places.
It had been a weird week. School was great. I had some of the same professors from last year for my IR classes, and thankfully I was almost done with my pre-requisites. Next year I would be able to completely focus on taking courses for my major.
I loved having Mya and Fleur as roommates, and being back in London was amazing. But I couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. It wasn’t hard to figure out what that “something” was. I’d been avoiding Samir and I blamed the five days since I’d last seen him for the fact that I couldn’t take my eyes off of him or stop thinking about how good he looked, sitting there across from me.
He looked like he hadn’t shaved in days. His face was covered in sexy stubble that made him look way hotter than I was ready to handle. With his dark skin, he looked amazing. Edible.
Mya nudged me. “You okay tonight?”
“Yeah. Just thinking.”
“You seem quieter than normal.”
My cheeks heated. “I’m fine.” Somehow I managed a smile. “I’m a little tired.”
It was awkward as hell pretending things were normal between me and Samir. I didn’t want to have to look at him, was afraid I still couldn’t without wearing my emotions on my face. I kept thinking if I just waited, if time passed, one day I would see him and not feel like I was at the peak of a roller coaster, my body poised to hurtle to the ground.
They said time healed all wounds. Or something like that. But then I saw him, and suddenly time didn’t matter anymore.
“Want to dance?”
My head jerked up.
“Want to dance?” Samir repeated.
I waited to see if anyone would notice. But Fleur and Michael were deep in conversation about something, and Mya was playing with her phone.
Dancing seemed like the worst idea I could think of. I could barely stand to look at him. How was I supposed to handle being in his arms, my body pressed up against his? How was I supposed to pretend I didn’t want more than a dance? Being close to him was dangerous for my sanity. For my heart.
But I never could resist him.
I rose from the table and took the hand he extended.
Samir
I LED HER to the small dance floor, her hand clutched in mine.
I didn’t feel like dancing. It was, if anything, a pathetic excuse for me to touch her. If everything weren’t so fucked up, I would have laughed. How many times had I barely crooked my finger and girls had landed in my bed? Getting laid had never been a challenge for me. Here I was, not getting laid, trying to avoid it, in fact, yet desperate to hold a girl’s hand. Maggie’s hand.
I pulled her against my body, wrapping my arm around her waist. She was flush against me and I was hard and I knew she knew and I didn’t care.
I needed this. Just for a moment. Just a dance.
She didn’t speak, which was fine with me. Talking seemed to complicate things with us. Everything I tried to say either stuck in my throat or came out wrong. I was scared to speak at all, worried I would only make things worse.
For now, I had her exactly where I wanted her, her gorgeous body pressed up against mine, and I couldn’t resist the urge to move my fingers a little higher, up from her waist to the bare skin exposed by her top’s open back. Her skin was warm beneath my touch, silky smooth under my fingers.
For a moment, I imagined it was just the two of us. That I could reach up and untie the strings at her neck, pulling her top down, baring those gorgeous tits to my eyes and hands and lips. I wanted to cup them, run my fingers and lips all over her nipples. I wanted to taste her in my mouth, to drown in her scent.
Maggie shot me a strange look.
I coughed, wondering if she’d caught me staring at her, struggling to put the image of her naked body out of my mind. “Sorry.”
The song ended, but I didn’t release her. Another song started up and I couldn’t resist keeping her in my arms, maneuvering her out of sight of our friends. I was stealing time with her, minute by minute, trying to borrow a future we could never have.
“I didn’t see much of you this week.” I didn’t add the rest of it—I missed you.
For a moment, she looked embarrassed. Then she shrugged. Did she know how often she did that now? My lips twitched. Somehow she seemed to have picked up my shrug.
“I was kind of avoiding you.”
“Avoiding me?”
She