Читать книгу London Falling - Chanel Cleeton, Chanel Cleeton - Страница 14

CHAPTER TEN

Samir

“WHY ARE YOU being so weird?” Fleur asked me in French.

Most of the time we spoke in English at school—but sometimes, when she wanted to talk to me about something important or private, she switched to French.

I moved down the hallway, my strides impatient. I wasn’t in the mood to get harassed by Fleur. It was the second week of classes and things were still a mess with Maggie. I was still a mess.

“I’m not being weird.”

“I’ve barely seen you all semester.”

“School has been back for a few weeks. It’s hardly been ‘all semester.’”

“Well, I didn’t see you much this summer, either.”

I’d tried my best to check in on her, but much like my life, my summer had not been my own. “I told you, I was working for my dad. We couldn’t all spend the summer on a yacht in the South of France.”

I was being an ass. I was pissed off and taking it out on her, which wasn’t fair. I couldn’t seem to control it, though. This gnawing frustration had been building, and was infinitely worse after seeing Maggie in the common room. I’d thought allowing myself small doses would be enough. Turned out it only made things worse. Like a junkie, I craved more.

“You seem on edge. Snappy.”

“I’m not on edge.”

Okay, maybe yes, I was a little on edge. I’d been chain smoking like a maniac, and tension coursed through my body.

“You look like you need to get laid.”

I froze in mid-step. “Excuse me?”

Fleur fisted her hands on her hips. “You do. You definitely look like you’re hurting for it.”

“Jesus.”

“Well, you do.”

“I’m not hurting for it,” I muttered through clenched teeth. “I can get laid any time I want.”

Total fucking lie. Maybe I could get laid anytime I wanted. Just not by the only girl I wanted to lay.

“I take it the girlfriend doesn’t put out.”

“It’s not like that. Just drop it, okay?”

“Fine, if you’re going to be a girl about it.”

“I’m not a girl,” I protested. “I just don’t feel like taking about my sex life right now.”

Fleur smirked. “Trouble in paradise?”

She had no idea.

“Look, I don’t want to talk about it. I have class in like five minutes and then I’m hanging out with Omar.”

“I feel like you’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you.” I was, a bit. But it was hard being around her with the whole Maggie situation going on. We were trying to act like nothing had happened between us. I didn’t need Fleur getting involved. “We’ll hang out, I promise. Let’s make a plan for next week.”

“Want to go bowling?”

I stopped in my tracks. For like the millionth time today, Fleur had completely caught me off guard. “Excuse me?”

“Bowling. Tonight. In Holborn. There’s a group of us going.”

“Bowling?”

“It might be fun.”

“Okay, you’re asking me why I’m being weird? Since when do you bowl?”

“George is going.”

“George?”

She flushed. “He’s nice.”

“Sure he is.”

I knew Fleur had changed after her overdose, but I hadn’t realized she’d basically had a lobotomy. If Fleur was going bowling, then hell had officially frozen over. Although I wasn’t sure what was weirder: that she was going bowling, or that she was going bowling with a guy like George.

“He is nice. You should give him a chance.”

“That’s not what I do. You either. What gives?”

“I’m turning over a new leaf. Maggie suggested it. I think she may be onto something. Besides, you know how Maggie is. Once she gets her mind on something, there’s no turning back.”

I did know Maggie. Maybe better than anyone. That was the problem. She was frustrating and exciting and confusing. She was hard to read and impossible to forget. And she was killing my sanity.

“So are you coming or not?”

I stared blankly at her.

“Bowling?”

Right. “Definitely not. I have no desire to bowl. I’m pretty sure there isn’t any amount of money you could give me to make me even consider it. Besides, George is not my idea of a good time. The guy’s less exciting than a trip to the dentist. I don’t care how nice he is.”

Fleur glared at me. “Fine. The rest of us will have fun without you.”

“Is this a group date?” This thing got lamer by the second.

“I told you. Maggie’s the one pushing us to go out. She organized it.”

Motherfucker.

“So Maggie’s going?”

“Yeah, it was her idea. She thought it would make George more comfortable to do something on his terms.”

How was I going to tell her I wanted to go now?

My resolve was crumbling. Maybe it had never been there to begin with. My efforts had been half-assed at best. At a school this small, it was difficult enough to try to avoid Maggie, harder still when I didn’t want to.

“Makes sense.” I hesitated for a moment, not used to having to explain myself. “Okay fine, if everyone else is going, I’ll go.”

Fleur stared at me like I had three heads. “Are you serious? After all that, now you want to go?”

“I didn’t say I wanted to go,” I lied. “But I’ll go.”

Fleur’s eyes narrowed. “Are you just going to make fun of George?”

“No.”

“Seriously, you have to promise not to make fun of him.”

I was surprised she even cared—it was unlike her to be this concerned about someone like George.

“Fine. I promise.”

There was one reason I was going bowling and it had nothing to do with George.

Maggie

“YOU GUYS READY?”

There were six of us—me, Michael, Mya, Fleur, George and George’s friend Max. Max was a year ahead of me and though I hadn’t met him before, he seemed nice enough. Hopefully his presence would make things a little less awkward for George.

I loved bowling. Jo and I bowled all the time in South Carolina. I wasn’t any good, but it was a ton of fun. Plus I couldn’t resist the idea of Fleur in rented shoes.

“We’re just waiting for one other person,” Fleur called out.

“Who?” My body collided with someone. I looked up—

“Me.” Samir grinned, and my heart lurched like a boulder tumbling off a cliff. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You’re going bowling?”

His smile deepened. “Yes.”

“Bowling? Like rented shoes and pizza and eighties music? Bowling?”

He laughed, the sound reverberating through my body, all the way down to my toes.

“Why?”

Samir draped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me toward the door. “It sounded like fun.”

I looked up at him. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with Samir?”

Fleur laughed behind me. “That’s what I said.”

Samir leaned down, his lips grazing my ear as if he were telling me a secret. “Maybe I’m not here for the bowling. Maybe I’m here for the company.”

Our gazes met. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. There was something in his eyes that made me think he wasn’t teasing. This felt like full-on flirting. More than pretending to be friends.

I let him maneuver me down the steps before he finally released me. I immediately missed the feel of his arm around my shoulders, of my body near his. I struggled for nonchalance, trying to put some space between us, trying to get my silly, racing heart under control.

Mya shot me a look, linking arms with me. “Still sure nothing is going on?”

“Nothing at all,” I lied.

We walked toward Gloucester Road tube station, heading for the Piccadilly line to Holborn. It was late enough that the streets were crowded with people on their way home from work. We walked as a group, occasionally separated by the stray pedestrian marching toward the station. I spent most of the time talking to Michael about his semester. He had a new boyfriend and had been spending most of his time with him. The rest of the group was pretty quiet.

We all piled onto the Tube, mashed against each other in the melee that was standard for London. I usually tried to avoid the Piccadilly line at rush hour when you got the truly awful combination of pissed-off commuters and wide-eyed tourists. Everyone sort of existed in a simmering rage, fueled by frequent delays.

By the time we got to Holborn and up to the street level, I felt like I’d just run a mile.

We walked toward the bowling alley, conversation picking up now. I checked out for a bit, my attention completely focused on my surroundings. I loved Holborn. For me, it was London at its most academic. It was the home of the London School of Economics, the Holy Grail of IR. They had these amazing lecture series that were open to the public; sometimes I’d go and listen to their world-class speakers. I’d sit in the audience and pretend I was a student there, doing a master’s.

“Daydreaming?”

I turned and grinned at Samir. He understood what this place meant better than anyone.

“Maybe.”

“Are you going to apply your senior year? You should.”

“I might. It’s competitive, though.”

“True. But you’re smart. You at least have to try.”

He matched his pace with mine, walking beside me down the street. We’d broken off from the others; I wasn’t sure if he’d meant to do it or not. For a few minutes, neither one of us spoke. His shoulder brushed against mine a few times, that alone filling me with anticipation.

“Fleur wearing rented, fake leather shoes. Highlight of your night?”

I giggled. “Definite highlight. I’m taking a photo.”

He grinned, and for a moment it felt like we were sharing a secret.

“She must really like him.”

“Why do you say that?”

He shrugged, a little smile on his face. “Because we all do things that are out of character when we really like someone.”

I froze, my heart stumbling in my chest. “We? I thought that wasn’t your style.”

“Maybe I’m not the guy I used to be. Maybe I never liked anyone enough.” He paused for what felt like an eternity. “Until now.”

I stared back at him, unable to formulate a response. I wasn’t sure what that meant, and part of me was afraid to ask. Something was up tonight. There was something different between us. I couldn’t read him, couldn’t guess what he wanted. It felt like we were always a beat out of sync.

We walked the rest of the way to the bowling alley in silence.

“Hey, Maggie.” I turned at the sound of Mya’s voice. “We’re forming teams. Why don’t you and Max team up?” She shot me a knowing look that wasn’t even kind of subtle.

Samir stiffened beside me.

“Sure.”

I smiled at Max. He was cute, with dark brown hair and green eyes. He had that all-American look I’d become familiar with back home. He did look built, although sadly I couldn’t make out the outline of the famous abs. I’d have to take Fleur’s word for it.

I could see why Mya thought we would be a good fit. We had the American thing in common, and he seemed nice enough. But I wasn’t that girl. Stupidly, maybe, all of my attention was focused on the brooding and off-limits boy beside me.

We all got our shoes and headed toward the lanes. The bowling alley was upscale, with almost a nightclub feel to it—so different from the rundown place I bowled at back in South Carolina. Fleur looked predictably put out by the whole thing, but surprisingly, she seemed to be trying. Samir hadn’t even bothered renting shoes. He’d decided he would just watch. Which I soon discovered meant he would watch me.

The first few games went by fairly quickly. Max was easily the best in the group, so it wasn’t a surprise when we quickly took the lead. Fleur was hopeless. But even she settled into the spirit of it all and was soon laughing with the rest of us.

And all the while I could feel Samir’s eyes on me as he sat at the table, slowly nursing his whiskey and Coke.

Samir

IT MADE HER happy—bowling.

Her smile lit up the room and her laughter filled it and I wanted her so badly it hurt.

I’d never met anyone like her. She didn’t seem to care that we were in a bowling alley. She was just as happy here as she was sitting in the VIP section at a club. She treated life like everything was an adventure, and found pleasure in the littlest of things. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt like that. Couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so taken by something or surprised by anything. Couldn’t remember feeling that kind of happiness—

Except with her.

I took another sip from my drink, the whiskey burning a hole down my throat. Maggie grabbed her ball and walked up to bowl. I couldn’t stop staring at her legs, at her ass. She looked ridiculously hot in her orange shoes.

That guy who was friends with George—Matt or something—walked up next to her. Right behind her. My eyes narrowed as she turned back and said something to him. He laughed.

I didn’t like him. He was American and tall and built and looked like he should be working on a farm or something.

He followed Maggie up to the bowling lane, positioning his body behind hers, showing her how to roll the ball. His hands gripped her hips, his arm moving with hers, mimicking the release. She wriggled her hips for a moment and I swear my heart stopped beating. He grinned at her, still not moving his motherfucking hands from her body, and I saw red.