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.
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