London Prep: Book Two

by Dodd, Jillian

  “It’s just that, well, maybe we’re insecure about it,” Harry says, putting on a pout. “The only thing I can do now is push Noah on his choices since both my and Mohammad’s first times are done and over with.”

  Harry’s eyes connect with Noah’s, and I notice Noah visibly relaxes.

  His lips twitch at the corner like he might smile, and I know that they haven’t actually upset him.

  “So then, Noah, are you looking for something cosmic?” I smirk.

  “Cosmic?” he repeats, rolling his eyes at me.

  “I feel like that could get kinky real quick,” Mohammad says. “Like, some sort of sex angel. All white with wings or something like that.”

  “Way to take something beautiful and make it dirty,” I say.

  “A beautiful, naked angel isn’t dirty?” he replies.

  “So, back to this spark,” Harry interrupts.

  “Yeah. Who have you had a spark with before?” Mohammad asks curiously. He bites onto his tongue as he smiles, like he’s a naughty child who can’t help himself.

  “Well, apparently, not Sophia,” I comment, taking a stab at him.

  Because seeing her name on his phone pissed me off.

  And I want to see if he defends her.

  “What?” Noah says, his eyes coming up to mine with surprise.

  “Right!” Mohammad agrees. “You never went into detail about that.”

  “You mean, other than telling you both at Harry’s squash match that I was not and am not into her. We are not having this conversation again,” he says firmly.

  “You clearly talk,” I fire back. I can’t help myself.

  “And? She’s Mia’s best friend.”

  “So, you get along,” I push.

  “Yes,” he says through gritted teeth.

  “So, why not shag her then?” Mohammad asks. “She’s probably into you.”

  Noah glances over to Mohammad, looking simultaneously hurt and upset.

  “And I repeat, for the fiftieth fucking time, there’s nothing there. And she is Mia’s friend.”

  “Well, fuck me, does there need to be?” Harry interrupts. He throws a handful of crisps into his mouth, chomping away at them.

  “I would think so,” Noah says, staring at me the entire time.

  I swallow hard, sort of wishing that there were something going on between them. Because then I could be right.

  “Well, regardless, maybe you should ask her to hang out with us sometime. Maybe this weekend,” I offer.

  “You think that’s a good idea?” Noah asks, still looking at me.

  “Why not?” I say because he needs to know that I don’t care about whatever secret thing they have going on.

  “And what about you?” Noah says, shifting his gaze to Harry.

  “If you’re not trying to shag her, then definitely not. She’ll get the wrong idea.”

  “I agree,” Noah states.

  “If you’re not going to shag her, should I try then?” Mohammad asks.

  “Be serious,” Noah says.

  “I am.”

  “What about Sarah?” I say, wanting to move this conversation in a different direction.

  Mohammad rolls his eyes. “She texts too much and nothing remotely dirty. I’m over it.”

  “Of course she’s texting you. She let you touch her boob at a party,” I tell him.

  “I’m sure he isn’t the only one who’s had the pleasure.” Harry laughs.

  My mouth drops open, and I shove my shoulder into his and point my finger at him.

  “What?” he asks, pouting.

  “You can’t talk about a woman like that.”

  “She knew my reputation,” Mohammad interrupts, holding his hands up, like he’s not in control of the universe.

  “Maybe you should take her home to meet your mum,” Noah offers.

  “Bloody brilliant.” Harry grins.

  “No,” I state.

  “That’s not actually the worst idea. It would definitely get her off my case.”

  “This has gone far enough,” I cut in. “Let’s rewind to the initial question. Mohammad, what do you think of Naomi?”

  I glance across the table at Noah, and it’s like he’s trying to burn a hole through my head with his eyes.

  “Naomi’s hot,” he admits.

  “She is,” I agree.

  “But she seems like a good girl.”

  “What do you mean? She parties, drinks. But at the same time, she’s kind of like an angel,” I say, thinking. “She could be your sex angel!”

  I feel like I might actually win him over with my statement.

  “Mallory …” Noah says, eyeing me.

  “Look, I’m sorry, but I like her. Besides, I could see you two hitting it off,” I say to Mohammad.

  “Uh-oh,” Harry says. “Someone’s in matchmaking mode.”

  “Am not,” I argue.

  “Why do girls always want to set you up with their friends?” Mohammad dramatically rolls his eyes.

  “They can’t help it,” Noah states.

  “That’s true,” Harry agrees. “All girls do it.”

  I let out a grumble, feeling ganged up on.

  “Just let things take their course,” Noah suggests.

  And I sort of wonder if he agrees with me. Because I know he saw the way that Naomi lit up when she heard Mohammad’s name last night.

  But maybe he’s right.

  I need to just let it play out.

  Or at least pretend to let it play out.

  “What are you lads up to tonight?” Harry asks.

  “What are you in the mood for?” Mohammad grins.

  The bell rings, signaling lunch is over.

  “Anything out of my house. Let’s meet at the pub after school,” Harry says, his eyes shifting from Noah to Mohammad before finally landing on me.

  I smile at him.

  “I’m down,” Noah agrees.

  “Me too.” Mohammad nods.

  “The Queens Arms it is, then,” Harry states, getting up from the lunch table.

  I’m going to strangle him.

  Geography

  “Mohammad came up to me, gave me a pat on the back in the hallway, and said you were in an extremely good mood in Latin,” Harry tells me as we walk into Geography.

  “What?” I laugh nervously, not meeting his gaze. “That’s weird.”

  “It is weird. It’s almost like he knows something,” Harry says, looking down at me.

  He bites his lip, and I can tell he’s trying to hide his smile.

  “It would seem that way. Which would be odd. Did you tell him something?” I ask, trying to act clueless and turn this back on him.

  Harry shakes his head and cocks an eyebrow at me. “Did you?”

  “Fine, I cracked,” I admit, letting out a huff. “I told him a little bit. I had to.”

  “What happened to discretion?” he asks, taking my hand into his. His expression remains light, but he dips his head down, interested in my answer.

  “He’s my best friend. And best friends get the details. Besides, I had to tell someone.”

  “Oh?” He grins at me.

  “I was overly excited to share, I guess. I’m sorry.”

  “I know. I felt your excitement last night,” he whispers.

  My eyes go wide, and my cheeks instantly flush.

  “I also might have changed the words slightly as to what Mohammad said to me.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Nothing specific.”

  “Harry, tell me right now.”

  “He said that you were practically glowing. Almost like a woman who just had a good shag. Or an orgasm. I think he used both words.”

  My mouth falls open. “I’m going to strangle him,” I say, already plotting his death.

  “Or you could drown him in his tomato soup at the pub?” Harry offers with a laugh.

  “That’s not a bad idea,” I comment.

  Harry rolls his eyes before pushi
ng me down the aisle toward our seats.

  “How’s your grade in this class?” I ask, pulling out my textbook, trying to focus my mind on Geography.

  “Not great actually. I think I need a tutor,” Harry says seriously.

  I turn, looking back at him. “Really? Because I think that sounds like a great idea …” I start, but Harry’s eyes are filled with amusement, and my excitement flattens. “You’re teasing me,” I comment, my lips pulling into a straight line.

  “The opposite actually. I was hoping you might offer up your services.”

  “I’m not sure we would stay focused on studying,” I admit, my mind drifting back to yesterday.

  “I think there should be a dress code as well,” Harry says, ignoring my statement. “Maybe a few less buttons done up on the shirt. And the tights, they have to go. Maybe we could get some braids,” he says, his fingers drifting to my hair.

  “I think you’re mixing up school girl with tutor.”

  “Shit, you’re right. How about we keep the buttons, lose the skirt altogether, and add a bun? Maybe a little whip for good measure. I mean, only when I’m being bad,” he says with a grin, his blue eyes never leaving mine.

  “You’re terrible,” I whisper back, shaking my head.

  “I am,” he agrees, nodding his head vigorously. “I think I need to be punished.”

  “I’m going to come back there and get you,” I say, reaching over his desk to tickle him. “You’re being sassy today.”

  But Harry grabs ahold of my wrists, keeping them on his desk. “I know … I need to be set straight.”

  “I think you might have to pay someone to help you out with that. Likely a therapist,” I counter.

  “Always a comeback.” He grins.

  “Mmhmm,” I agree, connecting our gaze. “Besides, with having an hour in detention today, I think you’ll have plenty of time to study.”

  “Ugh. When will it be over?”

  “Today’s the last day.”

  “And it can’t end soon enough.”

  “Hopefully, an hour alone with me isn’t that torturous,” I say as Mr. Pritchard stands up in front of the class.

  He starts writing out a definition on the board, and I copy it down, actually following along and staying focused as he talks.

  I glance across the room, noticing that Olivia isn’t here. Naomi is in her regular seat, like usual, but when I look in her direction, she gives me a smile.

  Class flies by, and I’m excited when I finally hear the bell go off.

  I’m ready for Yoga, the pub, and then an early night in bed.

  After all the excitement and sugar last night, I just want to relax and unwind.

  “Mallory,” Naomi says, grabbing my attention.

  I stand up, bringing my textbook and notebook up to my chest. “Hey.”

  She comes up to me and wraps her long fingers around each of my arms in an embrace.

  “See you,” Harry says, winking at me.

  I smile at him as he leaves the classroom.

  “I wanted to thank you for last night. It was a lot of fun.”

  “It was fun. And I think it would be really fun to hang out this weekend.”

  “That sounds great. Are you thinking just us or something small?” she says quietly, like someone might overhear us.

  “Well, I know the guys are always down for something. Why don’t I talk with them tonight and figure it out for sure? But I think all of us hanging out would be fun.”

  “I think so too,” she agrees.

  “But regardless, we’ll definitely do something.”

  “Of course.” She nods. “I was promised the opportunity of doing your hair and makeup.”

  “You were.” I laugh, a little scared of how I’ll look after my transformation.

  Naomi takes my arm in hers, locking them as we start down the hallway to the changing rooms.

  “I was also thinking about the guy I was telling you about last night—George,” Naomi starts.

  “Did he text you?”

  “No. But I thought maybe we could test out your theory this weekend. If we decide to go out or all get together, maybe I’ll invite him,” she says hesitantly. “What do you think?”

  “I think … why not? It would be fun to meet the guy who has caught your attention,” I tease. “So, if it works out, yeah, I think that would be great.”

  “Okay.” She nods.

  We round the corner to the changing rooms, and my eyes instantly fall on Noah.

  He’s pacing in front of the wall, looking upset. His hands are on his hips, but then they move up, pushing through his hair.

  “I’ll see you in there,” I say to Naomi, dropping her arm.

  Her gaze moves to Noah, and I think she understands.

  “What’s going on?” I say to him.

  He turns toward my voice, and I take in his hardened expression and creased forehead.

  “What was that today?” he asks, cutting straight to the point.

  “What was what?” I ask, desperately trying to figure out where his head is at.

  “At lunch,” he says, frustrated. “Why were you trying to push me and Sophia together?”

  “I wasn’t,” I barely get out. Because Noah looks really upset.

  “You were. It was obvious.” His eyes narrow in on me.

  “I think you were reading too much into it. I was just throwing out a suggestion.”

  “A suggestion of what? Someone for me to lose my virginity to?” Noah frowns, glaring at me.

  “Stop. No!” I shout, my heart pounding in my chest. “That’s not what I meant at all. She was just a suggestion of someone for you to hang out with. You seemed so close when she came over, and then I saw that she’d texted you …”

  Noah’s expression changes. “You saw she’d texted me?”

  “Yes,” I reply matter-of-factly, “I did.”

  “Why were you on my phone?” he questions.

  “I wasn’t on your phone,” I say defensively. “I saw her name pop up in Art when I was grabbing your notebook from your bag like you had asked me to do.”

  “Think whatever you want.” Noah moves away from me, trying to shrug off our conversation.

  But I’m not going to let him.

  “Come back here,” I growl, grabbing the attention of more than one student in the hallway.

  Noah stops, crossing his arms over his chest. “What?” he asks, his body growing rigid in front of me.

  “Why were you texting her then?” I ask, crossing my own arms.

  Because if he wants to be pissy, then I can be too.

  “She texted me about throwing Mia a surprise party for when she arrives home.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah,” Noah says. “But instead of thinking rationally, your mind moves to he must want to fuck her. Thanks for that, Mal.”

  “You know what?” I say, pissed. “I don’t know to think any differently. You didn’t tell me she’d messaged you or what it was about. You don’t tell me anything, Noah.”

  “What do you want to know then?” he asks, his nostrils flaring.

  “I don’t know,” I respond because he’s put me on the spot. “I just … I should have known because you should have told me.”

  “What, like how you told me about you and Harry? There was nothing to tell,” Noah emphasizes, pacing in front of me. Again.

  “Fine then. I’m sorry I asked if you might like her. I take the fucking question back.”

  “Great.” Noah rolls his eyes at me.

  His pacing makes me nervous, and I cover my face with my hand, trying to relax.

  “Noah, stop,” I say, wanting to get some peace between us.

  “Why?” he says, continuing.

  “Sit down, please.”

  He glances at me like I’ve lost it, but I can tell he’s weighing his options.

  “Just sit down with me,” I repeat, grabbing on to his arm and dragging him around the corner to somewhere a little mo
re private.

  I let go of him, sitting down on the hallway floor. He glances around, but thankfully, he sits too.

  “I’m sitting,” he says condescendingly.

  “Great,” I say, my voice high-pitched.

  But I pull myself together, knowing we need to get over ourselves and this argument.

  “Why are you so upset?” I ask, attempting to keep my voice calm.

  “I’m upset because you were pushing someone on me. And I’m upset because you, of all people, should understand that I don’t want to sleep with just anyone.” Noah looks— almost hurt.

  I reach out and put my hand on his arm. He flinches, but I don’t move it.

  “I was pushing her on you,” I admit.

  But I was upset. I thought he liked her, and I wanted everyone to know. Because then it wouldn’t be only me feeling like shit.

  “Why?” he asks, looking up at me.

  I can’t hold his gaze, so I look away. “Because, Noah,” I start, trying to find the words, “we’re close, but all of a sudden, I felt like I didn’t know something about you. And that hurt me. I figured if I asked you like that, you would have to answer.”

  Noah rests his hand on top of mine. “You could have just asked me.”

  “I couldn’t,” I say, looking down at his hand. I simultaneously want to throw it off me and grab on to it for strength. “I don’t have a right to butt into your love life. Or I guess, what I thought might be your love life.”

  “You’ve talked about sex with Harry, haven’t you?” Noah asks.

  I look at him, completely surprised by his question.

  “What? No,” I reply.

  Where did that come from?

  “At lunch, you seemed more relaxed about sex than before. I started to wonder if you’d talked about it,” he says.

  “No. I mean …” I start, but I don’t know what to say.

  Do I tell Noah what happened between Harry and me? Or do I keep it vague and just apologize?

  I decide it’s best to keep it vague.

  “I was just teasing you. It wasn’t meant to be about sex at all, but you know Harry and Mohammad. Anyway, I’m sorry.”

  Noah nods, dropping his hand from mine. The second he does, I peel my fingers off his arm, trying to wrap my head around this conversation.

  “Well, do you accept my apology?” I push. “Or are you going to make me do something for it?”