London Falling. Chanel Cleeton

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СКАЧАТЬ couldn’t take a chance on him, couldn’t risk the near certainty of what it would feel like to have my heart broken by him. Because now that I’d had him—even just for one night—I knew he wasn’t someone I would be able to walk away from whole.

      Samir

      I WAS SCREWING this up so badly it wasn’t even funny.

      I’d never been here before, never had to plead with a girl. Clearly it showed.

      “Just give me a few minutes. Just a few minutes alone, and then you don’t have to talk to me again.” I swallowed. “Please.”

      For a moment she didn’t answer me—it felt like an eternity. I’d blown it, I got that. But she had to forgive me. Maybe I didn’t deserve it, but I needed her forgiveness. I needed her, however I could get her.

      Finally she nodded. “Okay.”

      I clung to that word like a lifeline.

      I reached down between us, grabbing her hand. She flinched against me, but didn’t move away. We stood there for a moment, frozen. It felt strange holding her hand again after all this time. Strange, yet right.

      I led her through the club, my hand pulling her along like a magnet. The crowd was thick tonight, especially for a Sunday, but I elbowed my way through.

      I stopped in front of the girls’ bathroom, hesitating for a moment. Then I pushed open the door.

      Behind me, Maggie protested, but I ignored her. The words had been inside of me, pushing to get out, for months now. I needed this chance to explain. Hurting her was inevitable, always had been. Hadn’t I known, even the morning after, that I couldn’t keep her?

      It didn’t matter how much I wanted to.

      The startled bathroom attendant gaped at us—specifically, me. “You can’t be in here.”

      Despite her protests, I doubted this was the first time something like this had happened here.

      Two girls washed their hands in the sink, their faces avid with interest, but besides them, the bathroom was empty. I pulled out my wallet, peeling off some cash and handing it to the attendant.

      “Can you give us five minutes? Please.”

      She hesitated for a moment before glancing down at the money, and then back at me. Her gaze drifted behind me, focusing on Maggie.

      “Is everything okay?”

      “I’m fine,” Maggie answered, her voice unusually quiet.

      Something tumbled in my gut.

      The woman looked back at me before nodding. “Fine. Five minutes.” She ushered the other two girls out, leaving Maggie and me alone.

      Five minutes. It was a safe amount of time. Short enough to ensure I kept my hands where they belonged—off of her. Long enough for me to explain why things were the way they were.

      But the second the room emptied, my words dried up. I was finally alone with her, and I didn’t have a thought in my head. Not in English, at least. French, Arabic—those words filled my head, desperate and pleading. But as hard as I tried to formulate what I wanted to say, my tongue felt thick and useless.

      “You wanted your chance. You got it. Talk.” Maggie’s voice trembled slightly. “You have five minutes, and then I’m gone.”

      That was the part that scared me the most. I didn’t want her to leave, but I wasn’t capable of giving her enough to make her stay.

      Story of my life. Always close, but never quite good enough. Definitely not good enough for her.

      It made sense to start with the most important thing I had to say.

      “I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

      CHAPTER FOUR

      Maggie

      NO SHIT.

      “That’s what you have to say to me? You fucked up?” He didn’t respond. He just stood there, staring at me, his expression blank. “Seriously. That’s the best you can do?”

      “Look, I know this is coming out all wrong. And I’m sorry. I know you deserve better than this. I’m trying to tell you I’m sorry. For all of it.”

      “What do you mean ‘all of it?’”

      “I should never have let things get out of control with you. I should have known better. You’re you and I’m me, and I should have known better.”

      I didn’t even know what that meant. We were both speaking English, and yet I needed a dictionary to understand what he was saying.

      “So you regret having sex with me?”

      I pushed away the slice of hurt that knifed through my heart. I’d deal with that later.

      Samir closed his eyes. I waited, staring at him, wishing he would just end this. It was like there was still a cord linking us, a tether tying me to him, and if I couldn’t have him, then I wanted nothing between us. I’d rather have nothing than live with the memories that made me crazy, gave me hope. They made everything worse.

      “Just say it. Say you’re sorry we had sex. Say you regret it. Say you wish it never happened. Just say it and let me go.” My voice rose with each word, tears filling my eyes. I spun away from him. There was no way I was going to let Samir see me cry. No way I ever wanted him to know I was tangled up inside, that just standing here with him was gutting me.

      “I can’t.”

      I turned again. Samir stared back at me.

      “I can’t say I’m sorry. I’m not sorry, okay? I’m not sorry I kissed you. I’m not sorry I had you in my bed. I’m not sorry that some nights I wake up from a dream of how fucking good it felt to be inside of you. I’m not sorry that every time I look at you, all I can think about is how badly I want to be inside of you again. I’m not sorry I cheated on my girlfriend. And as much as I know it makes me the biggest bastard on the planet, I’m not even sorry that I was your first. I fucking love that I was your first. The idea of someone else inside of you, of someone else getting to see your face when you come, makes me want to put my fist through a wall.”

      I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t think.

      “But I am sorry. I’m so sorry. Because I can’t be what you want or what you need.”

      I just stared at him.

      “I don’t want to hurt you. I know—I should have told you I was still with her. I should have explained it to you.”

      “Why?” It was the only word that filled my head, the only word that escaped from my lips. But there were other words there, too, stuck in between my head and my heart. Words I could never say.

      Why her and not me?

      Story of my life.

      Samir

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