London Falling. Chanel Cleeton

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the big deal? You both told me I needed to find a nice guy. In fact, I seem to remember both of you bitching at me because of Costa.” My jaw dropped. Fleur never said his name.

      “We didn’t think you would actually listen to us,” Mya answered.

      “I didn’t ask him to marry me. I invited him to eat dinner with us. It’s only a big deal if you make it one.”

      Or if George made it one. I was happy for them, but worried at the same time.

      “Hi, Maggie.”

      I looked up to see George standing in front of us, an uncomfortable expression on his face. I stood and gave him a hug.

      George was a member of the Residence Life staff and one of the few British students at the International School. He was tall, blond and cute in a boy-next-door sort of way. And he was totally, completely head over heels for Fleur—a fact he’d managed to hide from me until she’d landed herself in the hospital last spring.

      “Come join us.”

      I slid my chair over, making room for him at the table. He fumbled with his tray for a moment before settling into the seat next to mine. I felt a pang of sympathy for him. It wasn’t too long ago that I’d felt the same way—nervous, awkward, completely intimidated by the International School glitterati.

      The George I’d gotten to know last year was confident and fun. This version was... different. Fleur seemed to reduce him to pile of awkward nerves.

      We talked for a few minutes about our summers. Finally, Mya shot me a look, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively toward Fleur and George.

      What? I mouthed.

      Suddenly Mya coughed loudly. “I think I’m going to head to the library and do some studying.”

      Ahh. “Yeah, me, too.” Fleur shot us both a look filled with suspicion. George just looked uncomfortable.

      I grinned, grabbing my tray and pushing away from the table. “See you guys later.”

      Mya and I walked out of the cafeteria together.

      “Okay, it’s a little weird, right? Fleur and George?” she asked.

      “I guess. I mean, I figured he had a thing for her last year. I just wasn’t sure if she’d ever be interested in him. He’s a great guy, but yeah, he’s not exactly her type. Although George would be a billion times better for her than Costa ever was.” My eyes narrowed. “Where is Costa, anyway? I haven’t seen him around this year.” With the face of a god and the soul of the devil, Costa was pretty hard to miss.

      “You didn’t hear?”

      “Obviously not.” I’d been so consumed by my current situation with Samir that I’d barely paid attention to the usual International School gossip.

      “He transferred.”

      “Really?”

      “Yeah. The rumor is that his parents pulled him out of school and sent him somewhere in the U.S.” Mya lowered her voice, stepping closer to me. “You absolutely cannot tell Fleur, but I heard his parents found out he got a girl pregnant while he was here, and they flipped out.”

      Horror filled me.

      “Seriously, though, that’s super-secret. You can’t tell anyone. Especially Fleur. I don’t think she could handle it right now.”

      It was a minute before I could formulate a response. Because I knew something Mya didn’t. Unless Costa was incredibly virile and even stupider than I’d thought, I had a pretty good idea of who the girl in question was. Fleur was going to freak out. I didn’t know how to break it to her, but she had to know what people were saying before someone blindsided her with it.

      “That’s crazy.”

      “Yeah, he really was a dick.” Mya gestured toward the library. “Do you want to come study?”

      “Go on ahead. I’m not in a studying mood at the moment.”

      I wanted a chance to talk to Fleur. If she was going to hear about Costa from someone, I wanted it to be me.

      Samir

      I HIT “END” on my phone, shoving it back into my pocket.

      My conversations with Layla were always like this—awkward. I’d known her most of my life, and we’d seen each other at enough formal events, but we’d never really been friends or anything. She was nice, but she was a girl. A quiet, shy, good girl. We had nothing in common and I suspected I made her just as uncomfortable as she made me. She seemed about as into our “relationship” as I was.

      I was trying to do this right. Trying to be a good boyfriend and call her to see how she was doing. I was trying. But I sucked at it, and I was so sick of trying.

      I pulled a cigarette out of my pocket, fumbling for my lighter. Then I saw her and a slow smile spread across my face. I couldn’t help it; the damn thing just appeared every time I caught sight of her.

      She sat on the steps, her knees pulled up against her chest, her long brown hair falling all around her.

      “Hi.”

      Maggie’s head jerked up and her lips slowly curved. Any lingering awkwardness evaporated with that smile.

      “Hi.”

      “What are you doing out here?” I walked up to the top step where she sat.

      Something that might have been worry crossed her face. “Waiting for Fleur.”

      I sank down next to her. “Is everything okay?”

      She hesitated for a moment, and I knew whatever answer she gave wouldn’t be completely the truth. I hated that there were things she didn’t seem to be willing to trust me with.

      “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

      “I don’t believe you.”

      “I know. But I can’t talk about it. I made someone a promise that I wouldn’t.”

      I was silent for a moment. “Just tell me this at least—are you okay?”

      A soft smile teased her mouth. “I’m fine.”

      I lit the cigarette, positioning my body so the smoke would blow away from her. I knew she didn’t like this habit of mine and I tried not to smoke around her, but I needed a cigarette right now, needed something to take the edge off after my conversation with Layla. I could feel the noose tightening around my neck.

      “Where is Fleur?”

      “In the cafeteria with George.”

      I made a face. “Sorry, but you know that’s the worst idea ever.”

      “It’s not,” Maggie protested. “He’s a good guy. He really seems to like her.”

      I

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