Читать книгу London Falling - Chanel Cleeton - Страница 13

CHAPTER NINE

Samir

I HESITATED, MY HAND pressed against the wood-paneled door. Walk upstairs. Do not go into the common room. Don’t. Just don’t.

We were both night owls. I knew how much Maggie liked to hang out in the common room watching TV. I had a TV in my room, and yet last year I’d always found myself down here. This year, I’d been trying to avoid it. There was an intimacy to hanging out with Maggie at night. An intimacy that started out on a couch and ended up in bed.

It had been hours since I’d seen her on the steps, and I couldn’t get the image out of my mind. She’d looked lost, and whatever was bothering her seemed to be wearing on her.

I pushed open the door, striding into the one room I’d avoided since coming back to London. In part because of the danger of being around her like this, and in part because I wasn’t sure I wanted to confront the memories. This was where everything had changed and it all hit me at once.

Just being in the common room reminded me of that night. Made me remember what it felt like to have her. It reminded me of the feeling of her legs wrapped around me, her ass in my hands, her tongue in my mouth. But the memories weren’t the only reason I’d been avoiding this room. The other very big reason sat curled up on the couch, dressed in a sweater and shorts, her legs bare.

Her surprised gaze met mine, and for a moment a flash of unease crossed her face.

“Hi.” Her voice was soft and smooth, filled with just the barest hint of the Southern accent I knew she hated, but I secretly loved.

“Hi,” I echoed. It was 2:00 a.m. We had the common room all to ourselves. A wiser man would have turned and left. My feet carried me toward her.

“Can’t sleep?”

She shook her head, wrapping the sweater tighter around her body. She was so little that the fabric all but swallowed her. It was ridiculously cute and sexy at the same time.

“You?”

“Same.”

I didn’t add that I couldn’t sleep because I’d spent the last hour in my bed, reliving the memory of her there. It was torture having the same room I’d had last year. Absolute torture.

“Are you just going to stand there? Or do you want to sit?”

Actually, I’d like to bury myself in your body.

“Sure.”

I sank down on the couch next to her, careful to keep some space between us. It hit me at the exact same moment that a blush spread across her cheeks—

This was our couch. This was the couch that had started it all.

Minutes passed with silence between us. It wasn’t comfortable silence. It was agonizingly awkward, but I literally couldn’t think of one thing to say to her.

She ran her hand through her hair, the silky strands slipping through her fingers. The scent of her shampoo filled the air. She smelled like vanilla and cookies. I was instantly hard and strangely hungry.

“How is everything?”

I struggled to concentrate on her question. “Fine. Good.” Better now. “I was surprised I didn’t see you in any of my classes.”

Maggie grinned. “I have mostly morning classes.”

“That explains it, then.”

“Is it weird, knowing this is your last year of university?”

“I don’t want it to end.” I laughed at my words, realizing how big a cliché I was. The boy who didn’t want to grow up.

“I know what you mean.”

I hated the sadness in her voice. “Rough time at home this summer?”

“I don’t know. It wasn’t one thing. It was just...everything. I felt so trapped there. I love my grandparents. I mean, seriously, they’re amazing. But I can’t be myself. I’m this other person. This girl who doesn’t rock the boat and says ‘yes, ma’am,’ and ‘no, sir’ and plays by the rules. And it’s not that I want to cause trouble for them—I just sometimes don’t want to have to be that person. I don’t want to have to pretend everything’s fine when it’s not. That I’m not angry, when I am.” Her voice was raw. “I’m so tired of pretending. So tired of working so hard to be good. It’s exhausting pretending to be someone you’re not.”

Her words gutted me. With each word, something unraveled within me. I’d never heard anyone say exactly what I always felt. I knew what it was like to feel trapped in your own body, like you were playing a role you desperately wanted to break out from. I hated that she felt that way.

“You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Her eyes widened slightly.

I shrugged, embarrassment filling me. “I’m just saying. If we’re going to be friends, then you shouldn’t feel like you can’t be yourself with me.”

“You sure about that?” she asked, and I was relieved to hear the teasing note in her voice. “I’ve been known to give you a hard time.”

“I don’t mind.”

She laughed, the sound full and rich. “Really?”

“Really.” I nudged her with my knee. “It’s nice. I like being friends. I’ve missed just hanging out.”

God, I might as well turn my balls in now. What was wrong with me? This shit just kept coming out of my mouth, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

“I missed hanging out, too.”

“See? We can do this, right? Be friends.” I just had to keep my dick under control. So far, so good.

“True.” She tucked her legs up to her chest, her body curling up into a little ball. She looked so comfortable, so perfect just sitting there. I shifted on the couch slightly, my leg brushing against hers. Okay, yes, maybe I did it on purpose, but I couldn’t resist.

Besides, as long as I didn’t kiss her, as long as I didn’t run my hands under her sweater, caressing her skin, stripping that sweater off, all would be good.

I could do friends. Especially if it meant I could touch her. Even just a bit.

Maggie

THE SECOND HIS LEG brushed mine, a wave of heat spread through my body. It was weird. I was still annoyed about the girlfriend thing, still pissed at him on some level. At least I had been. But now, sitting next to him on the couch, I didn’t really care. There was something comfortable between us, underneath the tension and the awkwardness. It had been there last year when we’d barely known each other. It was the thing that made me share more with him than I did with most people.

I could be myself with Samir. I’d missed that. In between the butterflies and the nerves and the desire to pull out my hair, there were these moments when I felt peace. Maybe the sex stuff just complicated things. Maybe we were just supposed to be friends.

His leg was still there, resting near mine. Samir’s face was turned away from me, watching the TV. Did he realize where his leg was? Did he even care?

Was this in the friend code? I had no idea what the rules were for a guy you were friends (ish) with, then slept with, and were then friends with again. But then again, I wasn’t the one with the girlfriend. Even though I knew it was wrong, it felt too good to walk away from. I wouldn’t move closer, but I wouldn’t pull away—

“You look really uncomfortable,” Samir said, a smile tugging at his lips.

My body was contorted in a weird angle, my leg the only part even close to him.

“I’m fine.”

He sighed, raising his arm to the back of the couch. “Come here.” He gestured to the space beside him.

“I’m okay.”

“I promise I can stand you sitting next to me. We’re friends right? Friends can lie beside each other on the couch and watch movies.”

I pulled a face.

“They can. Come on. Just think of me as Michael. You’d lie next to him.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t be worried about Michael getting turned on by me sitting next to him.”

“I can behave,” he protested. “Come here.”

I wasn’t stupid. I knew by now that I couldn’t control myself around him. I knew staying away from him was in my best interest and his. I knew better than to let myself get close to him, than to let him inside. And yet, as hard as I tried to resist, he was like a magnet pulling me closer. He made me reckless, and I’d never been reckless before him.

I shifted on the couch, moving my body closer to his. He closed the distance between us, tucking me against his body like a puzzle piece snapping into place.

“Comfortable?”

Not even kind of.

It was the worst kind of agony. I was close enough to smell his cologne, feel his strong body beside mine. His breath tickled my ear. His hands hovered dangerously close to places that burned for him. He was so close—and yet so far.

“Yep.”

He pulled me even tighter against his body, a sigh escaping his lips. We both stared at the TV, neither one of us speaking.

There was nothing to say. We flirted around a line, dipping a toe or two over and then jumping back again. We played with fire, dancing on the precipice of something we couldn’t come back from.

I was so afraid I would fall.