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Samir stood on the street in front of the building, leaning against a sleek black sedan. Fleur stood next to him.
I groaned. “I changed my mind about tonight.”
“Nope. You’re coming.” Mya tugged on my hand.
I shot her a look. “You could have mentioned that two of my least favorite people were included in our little group.” I didn’t even bother lowering my voice. Samir was a flirty thorn in my side and Fleur’s thawing seemed to have bee a temporary moment, never to be repeated.
Samir grinned at my words. Fleur just looked pissed off.
“You wouldn’t have come if I told you the truth,” Mya answered, nonplussed. “Besides, you need a night out. You’ve been way too good lately.”
My eyes locked with Samir’s. He wore a pale blue collared shirt, sleeves rolled, and a pair of dark Diesel jeans. Flashes of the dreams I’d been having about him assailed me.
Samir turned to Fleur, a torrent of French escaping him. He didn’t seem angry, but there was intensity behind his words—and a definite chill in her reaction.
Were they talking about me?
Whatever he said to her, Fleur definitely didn’t look happy.
I already felt ridiculous enough, playing dress-up in one of Mya’s dresses, too tight on my curvy frame. Now I felt like an unwanted interloper. “You know, maybe this was a bad idea,” I called out, ready to turn around and go back in the building.
“You’re coming,” Mya snapped, shooting both Fleur and Samir a dark look.
Samir said something else in French. Fleur glared at me.
I really needed to learn another language.
Fleur turned her back to me, sliding into the backseat without another word.
“Come on.” Samir jerked his head toward the car.
I hesitated.
“Come on.” His lips curved into a grin. “Are you really going to let Fleur push you around like that?” He leaned in closer to me. “Trust me, your best play is to show no fear.”
He had a point.
I slid into the backseat next to Mya, glad to have her as a buffer between me and Fleur.
Samir shut the door with a grin. “Good girl.” I rolled my eyes.
Another guy got into the front seat. I instantly recognized him as Samir’s partner in crime from the first day on the stairs. Samir introduced him as Omar.
I leaned back into the leather seat, desperately wishing I were anywhere else. Fleur didn’t talk most of the car ride, staring out the car window instead. Samir and Omar spent most of the drive speaking in Arabic. We ended up at Babel again.
As we walked toward Babel, I felt a nervous flutter in my stomach. Was Samir thinking of the last time we were here together? Because as soon as I set foot in the club, I couldn’t get the memory out of my mind. At the same time, I couldn’t help but wonder if I would run into Hugh again. It felt a bit like returning to the scene of the crime.
“Sorry it’s a little tense tonight,” Mya whispered.
I laughed. That was a massive understatement. “Why are we even here?”
“Samir called me and practically begged me to come out.”
I gaped at her. “Are you joking?” Somehow I couldn’t see Samir begging anyone for anything.
“Fleur’s not having the greatest day.”
I rolled my eyes. “Let me guess, she maxed out her credit card? Or wait, her favorite manicurist was booked? Tragedy.” I’d been living with Fleur’s iciness for weeks now and I was sick of it.
“It’s her birthday.”
I paused. “What’s so bad about that?”
“Her mom was supposed to come to London so they could spend it together. But she bailed at the last minute to go to some spa in Switzerland.”
I couldn’t help the twinge of sympathy. There was nothing worse than being disappointed by your parents.
Mya shrugged. “Fleur was all set to spend her birthday by herself, but Samir found out. I think this was his attempt to throw her a little party.”
My gaze flew to Samir. A few girls stood next to him and Omar, one of them pressing a swift kiss to Samir’s cheek.
“And he told you it was okay to invite me?”
Mya shook her head. “It was his idea. He thought you would have fun.” She grinned. “He said something about you seeming tightly wound lately? An excess of pens in class or something.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that one. He still gave me shit about the first day. At least now I was down to two.
“I don’t get why he invited me. She hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you. She just takes a bit to warm up to people. And I don’t think she has anyone else.”
“She should be nicer, then.”
“You’re right.” Mya hesitated. “But there’s more to Fleur than what you see. A lot more.”
My look was skeptical at best.
“I’m serious. I wasn’t popular in Switzerland. I was one of the only black girls and some of the girls were really snobby about me being from Nigeria. Fleur was one of the few that actually stood up for me. I’m not saying she’s sweet, but she’s not as bad as everyone makes her out to be. She has her good side. You just have to work to find it.”
Maybe it was just me, then.
The boys waved us over. The table had already filled up; four random girls sat crammed in around the guys.
Fleur fisted her hands on her hips. “Samir. Move your friends.”
Samir mumbled something that sounded unflattering but he moved the girls over, relocating one of the girls onto his lap. A waitress poured drinks for the table. By the time she finished, Samir and the girl were practically making out.
I looked away.
I didn’t know what to make of Samir. Mya’s story about Fleur’s birthday made him sound as if he was almost a decent guy. His man-whore side suggested otherwise. Sure he was young and single, but still. Why did there have to be so many girls?
Mya nudged me. “Having fun yet?”
I laughed. “Sorry, not so much.” There was a weird energy at the table tonight. Fleur was knocking back drinks, her expression hard. Samir hadn’t broken apart from his girl. Omar didn’t speak to anyone.
Fleur leaned over to Mya. “I can’t deal with this.” She jerked her head toward the girls. “I hate when he does this.” Her gaze traveled over Samir’s little harem. “They’re just here for the free drinks and the table. It makes us look bad to be seen with them. Let’s go dance.”
Mya groaned. “I’m not in the mood to dance tonight. Why don’t you find someone else?”
Samir broke apart from the girl. His gaze met mine across the table. Something lurched in my chest as I hurried to look away, afraid he would see the confusion and inexperience reflected in my eyes. If I didn’t get up from the table soon, I was going to have to leave. This was beyond awkward.
“I’ll dance with you,” I blurted out.
Mya stared at me.
Fleur looked surprised for a moment before she nodded. “Fine. Come on.” She grabbed my hand, pushing her way around the table. I followed behind her reluctantly. She stopped in front of a raised platform, on display for the whole club to see.
“Up there?”
She rolled her eyes. “Stop being such a baby. I don’t dance on the floor like everybody else.”
Of course she didn’t. I stared back at our table—Samir was still ensconced with the group of girls. What the hell. I climbed up to the platform.
“This is such a bad idea,” I muttered under my breath.
Ignoring me, Fleur began dancing to the music, moving her hips in a way I could only hope to emulate. My gaze roamed over the crowd. People were looking at us. Girls were staring at us enviously; a group of guys grinned, lifting their glasses in a silent toast. A rush of power ran through me. I moved closer to Fleur, moving my body to mimic her moves. Our hips swayed to the beat of the music, our bodies nearly flush with each other. We were putting on a show and judging by the whistles we were getting from the crowd, they liked it. A photographer came over and snapped our picture. Fleur threw her arm around me, pressing a kiss on my cheek.
The flash went off.
So this is what it was like. This is what it felt like to be wanted. To be one of the cool kids.
I fucking loved it.
I grinned at Fleur, too carried away by the moment to be pissed with her. She had a point—on top of the platform it was impossible not to feel as though you were on top of the world. She flipped her hair back, tossing me a smug little smile. She was definitely enjoying herself as much as I was. There was power here, power in being a girl, power I’d never realized before.
I was drunk on it now.
I locked eyes with Samir across the room. He sat nursing a drink, the girl finally dislodged from his lap. He wasn’t smiling. The force of his stare surprised me.
This time I didn’t look away. I met his gaze head-on, shaking my ass to the music. Fleur grabbed my hand, pulling me into a twirl—she was definitely a little drunk—and then I was facing Samir again. He hadn’t stopped staring.
I didn’t care.
I didn’t want to be the lame girl everyone walked all over—I wanted this feeling, this rush, to last forever. I jerked my gaze away from Samir, passing over the crowd until it rested on—
A very tall, hot guy in a black jacket. Hugh.
Chapter 11
Our eyes locked across the crowded club. Hugh’s lips spread into a wide grin as he nodded his head toward me.
Fleur nudged me. “Aren’t you glad you came up here and danced? Now he sees he has competition.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Look.”
I followed her gaze. Sure enough, guys were standing near the platform, watching us dancing. Hugh made his way through the crowd, walking toward the platform.
“Hi, gorgeous.”
I grinned, relishing the sound of his crisp British accent. He was so hot. And I was ready for him. “Hi.”
“Can I give you a hand?”
I took his outstretched palm, putting my hand in his. Our fingers locked as he pulled me down from the platform, one hand firmly on my waist. As I slid down, our bodies brushed against each other.
“Fancy seeing you here.”
I grinned. “I wondered if you would be here tonight.”
“I’m glad I am. Can I get you a drink?”
His hand was so much larger than mine; it was impossible not to feel tiny in his presence. I liked it. I liked everything about him. We walked to the bar together.
He ordered our drinks and guided me to a bench near the DJ booth. He draped his arm around my shoulders, his lips just skimming my ear. His hand played with the ends of my hair, the backs of his fingers barely touching the exposed skin above my collarbone. His touch was soothing…and not. It felt like the start of something. I just wasn’t entirely sure what.
Hugh pulled back slightly, his gaze meeting mine. “I’ve been wanting to touch you since the first day we met.”
Holy shit.
“Here.” He pressed a swift kiss to my neck. “And here.” His lips grazed my skin. “And definitely here.” Hugh’s head leaned in closer, his minty breath filling my nostrils. His lips brushed against mine. I opened my mouth slightly, a sigh escaping.
It was all the invitation he needed.
Hugh deepened the kiss, his hands reaching out to pull me forward onto his lap. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling our bodies closer together. His body felt hard beneath mine and I couldn’t resist the urge to press against him, to wrap my body around his strength.
Instinctively I looped my arms around his neck, bringing our bodies in closer contact, pulling him towards me. Someone—possibly me—moaned. His hand moved from my waist, sneaking up my leg, beginning at my ankle, gradually, leisurely, traveling north.
My body burned everywhere.
Anywhere else our behavior would have earned some strange looks and—given the way his hands roamed over my body—possibly an arrest. But this was London. We were just another couple in a long line of couples making out in the nightclub. The anonymity of the dark and the music made it feel like we were in our own private world. It was so easy to get lost in his kiss.
“Come back to my place,” Hugh whispered, his hand high on my thigh.
I stilled, my heart pounding. After what must have been an hour with Hugh’s hands and lips all over my body, I felt like saying yes to anything.
“Maggie?”
