Page 14 of Finding London

Her brow furrows. “Why? Is it something I did? Something about me? Are you gay?” she fires off questions in rapid succession.

The last one makes me laugh. “No, I’m not gay. I’m just not a relationship kind of guy. Okay?”

She pouts her lips, her big doe eyes pleading. “I’m fine with that. We can just have some fun.”

“No”—I shake my head—“not happening.” My logic and senses are returning at full force. Though I know that a night in bed with London would probably be insane—the best kind of insanity—I can’t.

“Why?” Her voice comes out in a whine.

I hate that I find the shrill sound attractive.

“You’re just not my type of girl, and I’m definitely not the guy for you. You might not realize it yet, but I’m not. Trust me.”

“Let me make that decision.” She lowers her voice while placing her hand on my chest once more.

I remove it. “London, I’m trying not to be a dick to you. Believe me, it’s a challenge because, in all honesty, I am one. But there are only so many ways I can say no before things start getting ugly. Lots of guys are here. A pretty girl like yourself won’t have trouble finding one. It’s just not me.”

She bites her lip. “So, you think I’m pretty?”

I run my hand through my hair in frustration. “That’s what you took away from what I just said?”

“Come on, Loïc,” she purrs.

I glare down to her with a cold, frustrated stare.

Pulling back her shoulders, her chest rises with a large breath.

I watch her entire demeanor change. The soft features of her face morph into hardened resolve with, if I’m not mistaken, anger—and a lot of it.

She stands tall. One hand grabs her hip while the other one points an accusing finger at me. This is a completely different girl than the one I just danced with, and I despise the fact that I find this version equally as hot.

“What is your deal?” London barks out, her stare cynical. “Like, seriously? I know you find me attractive. I can tell in the way we just danced. This isn’t me, Loïc. I don’t beg guys to want me. It’s always the other way around!”

She’s furious, and I struggle not to smile because I find her rage completely adorable.

Oh, sod off, Loïc. Just stop.

This has gone on for long enough. I steel my features. Brutal bluntness is going to be the only way to get through to this girl. I need her to hear me because, honestly, I don’t want to fight her anymore. I only have so much resolve. But I know that I’m no good for her, just as she’s no good for me.

She stands before me, fuming. Her glare expectant, she’s waiting for answers.

“I’m sorry, London,” I say, though the tone of my voice communicates the opposite of remorse, “that you’ve lived such a privileged life that you don’t understand the meaning of the wordno.” I pause to take her in one final time.

I spy large round brown eyes with specks of gold peering up at me with equal amounts of hope and fear, a face so perfect in its construction that it’s more a work of art than a mere body part, and full lips that tremble slightly, begging me to kiss them. The sight before me brings more emotions to the surface than I’ve felt in years. And that’s exactly why I have to go.

“Good-bye, London,” I say with a firm finality. I turn away from her before she can protest.

I take the quickest route through the crowd to the spot where Cooper and Maggie are dancing.

“I’m out. Text me when you’re ready to be picked up,” I say to them.

“Who was that chick?” Cooper nods toward the space behind me.

“Not now. Text me,” I say again before I head to the exit and out into the warm night air.

I pull my fingers through my hair, letting out a groan. I shake my head, trying to erase the last hour from my memory. I start walking. I’ll have to be back shortly to drive my roommates home anyway. But I can’t stay here. I need distance and some clarity. I’m hoping a walk and the fresh night air will give me both.

Yet, regardless of the physical distance I put between myself and London, I can’t get her out of my head. She consumes my thoughts, and I hate it—or at least, I tell myself that I do.

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