his dark hair and eyes suggesting some Greek or Italian heritage. For a moment his gaze traveled over the table, before it stopped, lingering on Fleur.
She stiffened, ducking her gaze. She pushed back from the table.
What was that about?
“Fine, we’ll meet at nine.”
I blinked. Did Fleur actually just make a plan to hang out with me? Part of me wanted to go. Part of me was still scared. Hugh had been cute—and he’d seemed a little interested in me. I didn’t want to spend my college years single. Besides Jo had a point. I needed to be more spontaneous, needed to put myself out there more. I did not need to focus on a certain kiss I couldn’t get out of my mind.
“Fine. But no guys, okay?”
Fleur nodded, her voice sounding relieved. “It’ll be a girls’ night.”
She left, leaving me and Mya sitting alone at the table.
“What was that about?”
Mya shrugged. “She hasn’t been herself lately. I think she’s mellowing a bit.”
I gaped at her. “You mean this is Fleur, less bitchy?”
“Less high-strung, at least,” Mya said with a smile.
I jerked my head toward where the Italian/Greek guy sat with the bombshell. “What was the deal with that? Who is he?”
Mya frowned. “Fleur’s ex, Costa.”
“Was that the guy she dated before Samir?”
Mya laughed. “They’re not a couple.”
Everything stopped. “What do you mean they’re not a couple?”
“Fleur and Samir? Not even kind of.”
“But they’re always together,” I sputtered.
Now that I thought about it, I’d never seen them kiss or anything. And Samir didn’t really look at Fleur like that. But I’d just assumed…
“They’re friends. Besides, Samir’s kind of a player. I don’t think he does girlfriends. He kind of has bad idea written all over him.”
I’d noticed. Too bad my body hadn’t gotten the memo.
* * *
I waited for Fleur and Mya on the front steps. I was beyond nervous. I didn’t do things like this—chase after a guy. At least the old version of me didn’t. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the new me. She seemed a little reckless.
“Hot date?”
My head jerked up as my stomach did a somersault. I knew that voice.
Samir stood in front of me, dressed in a collared dress shirt and jeans. A flush spread across my cheeks.
“Maggie?”
“Hi.” It came out as a squeak.
Was it my imagination or did his gaze sweep over my body, lingering on my boobs? I crossed my arms over my chest.
He grinned. “You look good.”
So do you.
“Thanks.”
“On your way out?”
“Girls’ night with Fleur and Mya.”
His smile widened. “So you and Fleur made peace?”
I laughed. “I wouldn’t say we made peace. That might be overly optimistic.”
“You’d be surprised. She’s not so bad. It just takes her awhile to warm up to people.”
That seemed like the understatement of the year, but I let it slide. I still couldn’t get past the fact that they weren’t dating.
Samir shoved his hands in his front jeans pockets, a flash of tan skin showing at the motion. My gaze was riveted to the spot. My fingers itched to reach out and touch him there. I fisted my hands on my hips.
“So are we going to talk about it?”
I jerked my head up. A knowing smile spread across Samir’s lips. An awkward tension filled the air between us. It was strange to think that on one hand we’d been more intimate than I’d ever been with anyone and yet he still felt like a total stranger.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I bluffed.
He quirked a brow at me, his head tilted to the side, his expression considering. “So that’s how you’re going to play it?”
“Pretty much.”
I knew I was the polar opposite of smooth, but I didn’t know what to say to him.
Samir grinned. “Fine. I have my memories to keep me company.” He winked at me. “And believe me, I have plenty of good memories.”
I reached out and shoved him, the move reflexive, my hand fisting the expensive fabric of his shirt. I froze mid-motion, my hand clutching the fabric, half-pulling him towards me, half-pushing him away.
Samir’s voice deepened, grew seductive. “Why won’t you admit you want me? It was pretty obvious when your body was wrapped around mine.”
I flushed. “My body was never wrapped around yours,” I snapped, releasing my hold on his shirt. “It was a one-time, stupid, drunken thing. It’ll never happen again.”
“Sure it won’t,” Samir mocked.
Another worry clicked into my brain. “You haven’t told anyone, have you?”
His dimple flashed at me. “Told anyone about what?”
He was utterly impossible. “You know what I’m talking about.”
He tossed me a knowing smile. “I thought you didn’t remember. You might have to refresh my memory. A lot happened at Babel.”
“The kiss, you ass,” I hissed, careful to keep my voice low. That seemed like the safest way to describe it.
This time he flashed me a full-on grin. “I seem to remember a lot more than just a kiss happening. I seem to remember exploring you with my hands, tasting you, your body pressed up against the wall—”
“Did you tell anyone?” I bit out, cutting off his little monologue.
He paused, lingering over his answer. “Not yet.” He took a few steps forward, closing the distance between us. Something tumbled in my chest. His lips brushed against my cheek, pressing a swift kiss there. Just as he’d done at Babel before we’d parted ways.
I stood frozen, too surprised to move.
“See
