London Prep: Book Two

by Dodd, Jillian

  “Noah,” I whine. “Don’t speak art to me. Speak math.”

  He looks up, struggling to find the right words. “Okay,” he says, leaning in closer. “So, you’re one, and I’m one. Now, one plus one obviously equals two, right?”

  “Right,” I say, following along.

  “Right. So, we can have sex. One person plus one person means sex is possible. We could have it. We have the choice,” he says.

  I furrow my brow, wondering if he’s talking about us actually having sex or if he’s just trying to make some kind of point with this equation.

  “But here’s the thing,” he continues. “I don’t want that. I don’t just want one body plus one body. I want one plus one to equal three or four. I want to create something new. I only want to put myself into the equation if I know that I can create something more with them. Something beautiful. So, try and think of it like that.”

  I tilt my head, not sure if it actually does make sense.

  “Mallory, anyone can have sex. Almost anyone can fall in love with someone else. Under the right circumstances and time. These things aren’t special. What’s special is when there’s something between you. When there’s something that’s so strong, it can’t be ignored. That’s when you get sex that goes beyond two. That’s when you can’t help but create with them.”

  “Sometimes, I think you’re like this wise, old man, Noah,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief.

  Noah’s face flushes. “Well, you asked.”

  “What I meant to say is that you’re extremely wise for sixteen. And as crazy as it is, what you said actually makes sense. You’re talking about chemistry.”

  Noah nods, his eyes brightening. “Exactly. No matter who the inputs are, you can have sex. But you can’t always create it. You do that with chemistry. With love.”

  “Do you think you should be in love to have sex then?” I ask, wondering if I’m in love with Harry.

  Naomi thinks I am.

  I glance at Noah. He’s tilting his head back and forth, like he can’t decide and is literally weighing his options.

  “I would want to be.”

  “Yeah. I guess it’s just hard because you can have chemistry with someone who isn’t right for you. I mean, chemistry and lust can be confused too. Can’t they?”

  Noah sets his hand on top of mine and looks into my eyes. “Mal, love, chemistry, lust, intuition, sex, and exchange are all just words attempting to describe something. A feeling. An instinct. An emotion. Stop getting so caught up in the definitions and focus on how you feel.” Noah sympathetically pats my hand.

  “You think I’m overthinking it?” I say, frustrated, pulling my hand out from under his.

  Because I’m so sick of everyone saying I’m overthinking it.

  This is something that deserves to be thought about.

  Not just felt, but also analyzed.

  “Of course not. I don’t believe you could ever overthink it. The problem is, sometimes, thinking only gets you so far. So, overthink it. But feel it too. That’s how you will know.”

  I bite my lip, feeling bad for getting defensive. Because he’s really being sweet about this.

  I try to clear my mind as Mrs. Jones gets our class’s attention, telling us to continue on our project today.

  “I’m going to go get a canvas,” I say to Noah, getting up from my seat. “Want me to grab you one?”

  “Thanks,” Noah says, nodding his head.

  I make my way over to the corner of the classroom, pulling out two empty canvases, and bring them back to our table.

  “You said you’re doing deep purple for the base coat, right?” Noah asks, his eyes shifting up to me.

  “I think so,” I agree, not sure I could even come up with anything different right now if I tried. “And you’ll start your peacock?”

  Noah grins at me. “I’ll outline and start painting today.”

  “I think I’m more excited to see your project than mine,” I mutter, trying to absorb Noah’s happiness.

  “Just paint.” Noah sternly looks at me, nodding for me to go off and pick out my color.

  It’s more of a demand than a request, but I listen.

  And part of me wonders if when he says just paint, if it can be applied to sex too. Maybe if I get out of my head and into my emotions, it will all turn out okay.

  I watch Noah for a few minutes as he draws out his design, and then I decide to get to work.

  I paint the entire canvas a deep eggplant purple.

  Once it dries, I add the next layer on top. A sparkling gold.

  Noah stays silent next to me. He finishes sketching and starts painting.

  I try to leave my mind blank, but it keeps slipping back to sex.

  And love.

  I think about Harry and how being with him makes me feel.

  I try to imagine what it would be like to have sex with him.

  He always makes me feel special. Safe.

  He’s funny and sweet.

  He’s my friend first, and I think that’s a good thing.

  Noah’s idea of chemistry flits across my mind, and I know that I definitely have chemistry with Harry.

  I love to kiss him, and I feel so good, pressed against him.

  I think maybe Naomi was right.

  Maybe I do love Harry.

  Or at least, I really care about him.

  But there’s something about my conversation with Noah that has me thinking.

  I could lose my virginity to someone who just wants to lose theirs, too, or I could be with someone because I love them. I could let it happen naturally, or I could plan for it to happen.

  Noah is right. There isn’t one way or one answer for everyone.

  But the thing that’s bothering me is what Noah said. With the right person, you almost can’t help but want to have sex with them.

  Not just in a physical way, but also in an emotional, almost spiritual way.

  And I’ve never thought about it like that before.

  I’m a cut-and-dry person. Decisions for me are usually like choosing between black and white.

  Should I just let it happen when it happens with Harry?

  Or should I plan for it to happen?

  I feel like I’m planning it now.

  I’m saying I should or I shouldn’t.

  And that adds pressure.

  Which is crazy.

  Because Harry has told me from the beginning that we can move at whatever speed is right for us.

  We will only go as far as I want.

  He’s been … amazing.

  I think about what Noah said, and I wonder, as beautiful as his description of sex was, can anything or anyone ever live up to his expectations? Because his description was beautiful—an incredible bond between two people that’s so natural, it’s almost enlightened.

  And I’m not sure if that’s Harry and me.

  We’re just two people, where one plus one equals two.

  And I guess I have to figure out if I’m okay with that.

  I won’t allow it.

  Geography

  I walk into Geography with a clouded head. I feel like everything is too much right now.

  I have too many thoughts.

  Too many emotions.

  Too many inputs.

  Too many opinions.

  I just want it all to stop. I feel like I need to do something to make it stop. Like scream. Or run. Or literally just shut my brain down.

  I don’t know what to do, but I have to do something because I have moved from nervous to flustered to officially overwhelmed.

  I feel like I’m on a sinking ship, and I need to decide if I’m going to bail the water out or jump overboard and abandon ship.

  I sit down at my desk, thinking about my options.

  Or what my terrible analogy even means. If I jump ship, am I giving up?

  I close my eyes, willing myself to forget about ships and sex and art and everything.

  “You’re having a c
risis,” Naomi says, sitting down in the empty seat in front of me.

  “Just a bit,” I whisper, scared to open my eyes.

  “Crises are not allowed on Friday afternoons when school is almost over,” she says sternly.

  I open my eyes, looking at her, shocked. “What?”

  “Crises are for Monday mornings, when you have a test that you haven’t studied for. Or for Wednesday evenings, when the week is only half over.” Her brown eyes are honed in on mine, and I sit up straighter under her gaze. “Friday afternoons are not the time for it. I won’t allow it.”

  “Really?” I say, breaking out in laughter.

  Because I know that she’s being serious, but I just can’t figure out why.

  Or why I find her sternness kind of funny.

  “No. We’re a few short hours away from owning new dresses, looking hot as fuck, and drinking. Now is not the time for a crisis. It’s time to be grateful and pretend you are excited for our upcoming shopping trip.”

  My mouth falls open at her words. Because she’s got an attitude. But she’s smiling at me, blinking innocently, pretending she doesn’t.

  I decide I probably should give in to her demand.

  I let out a heavy breath, trying to shake off my funk. “I’m very excited to go shopping,” I say, smiling back at her.

  “Good.” She nods at me approvingly.

  “Moved seats already?” Olivia says, standing above us. She has her arms crossed, looking down at Naomi, her nostrils flaring.

  “Of course not,” she says easily to Olivia, like her words are clouds that can just be wafted away.

  “If you’re trying to talk her into not having me come tonight, it’s not going to work,” Olivia says to me, her eyes flashing in a challenge.

  “Why do you want to come anyway? I thought you hated me?”

  She lets out a long sigh and studies her manicure like she’s indifferent to my question. “My best friend’s going to be there.”

  “And?” I push.

  Because she can hang out with Naomi anytime. She doesn’t have to do it tonight.

  Her eyes shift up to me, her expression hardening.

  I’m not sure what she’s thinking, but she starts to open her mouth and then shuts it, her eyes closing for a minute.

  I glance at Naomi, wondering if she knows what Olivia’s response is going to be.

  “Look,” she starts, her lips pursing, “you two are obviously friends, so I might as well get over it. And what’s a better way to do that than a party?” Olivia raises her eyebrows at me as she forces a smile onto her face.

  “It’s not a party,” Harry says, walking down the row toward me.

  I look him up and down, admiring his tight white shirt and perfectly fitted trousers. He looks gorgeous.

  Olivia ignores him, her eyes still on me. “Do you agree?”

  “Sure,” I say, knowing that I don’t really have a choice.

  Maybe Mohammad was right. Maybe we can all just move on with things tonight. I don’t want to try to convince her of anything. I’ll just let it happen.

  “Come tonight. But it’s going to be fun,” I emphasize, wanting her to know if she’s coming, there will be no drama.

  “Agreed,” she says.

  “See you tonight.” Naomi grins and then follows Olivia over to their usual seats.

  “What was that about?” Harry asks, sitting down at his desk.

  “Olivia wants to be friendly—at least, I think she does.”

  Harry nods, his blue eyes on me. “Whatever. As long as it’s chill.”

  “Let’s hope so,” I agree, turning back to face the front of the classroom as Mr. Pritchard starts teaching the final lesson of the day.

  A trying day.

  4pm

  “I think today was the longest day of my life,” I groan to Noah as we walk home from school.

  Naomi whispered to me after class that she would text me where to meet her for shopping. I told her and Harry, when they both asked, that I had to go back to the house and talk to Helen. I need to tell her the fake plans and make sure everything is good for me staying over at Harry’s.

  “You’re being dramatic,” Noah says, smirking at me.

  I push out my bottom lip, wrapping my arm around his as we walk. “I’m allowed to be dramatic. It was a trying day,” I state, resting my head against his shoulder.

  “And why was it a trying day?”

  “It was a trying day because of everything we talked about in Art. And then there was this morning,” I continue.

  “A trying day?” He rolls his eyes at me. “You need to pull it together. Today wasn’t trying. It was eye-opening.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about you,” he says, stopping. “You’ve worked yourself up so much; it’s going to take the entire night to unwind you.”

  I cross my arms at his statement. “Well, that’s not very kind.”

  “I’m not trying to be kind. Look, you’re freaked about sex. We all are. It’s a big deal.”

  “You’re not helping here …”

  “But we need to get you back to normal.”

  “What are you suggesting?” I ask as he takes a few long strides. I jog to catch up to him.

  “I’m suggesting that you let your hair down,” Noah says.

  “My hair down?” I question.

  “Let’s just have some fun.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  I look over at Noah, watching his lips pull up into a smile.

  “I have an idea,” he says, wrapping his hand around mine.

  He speeds up his pace, practically dragging me to his house and through the front door. Before I know it, we’re upstairs in his room, and Noah’s dropping his backpack by his door.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, a little breathless, trying to figure out what’s going on.

  Noah turns, his face fixed with determination. I back up a few feet, my legs running into the side of his bed.

  I want to say something, but I can’t. Noah walks toward me, and I’m not sure what to expect.

  I suck in a breath as his hands wrap around my waist, Noah suddenly picking me up.

  But a second later, I’m on his bed, and Noah’s jumping onto it with me.

  “What are we doing?” I gasp, my heart rate rising.

  “Jump,” Noah says.

  “Jump?”

  “Yeah. Jump.” He laughs, jumping on his bed with me.

  “You’re not serious,” I say, moving to get down off his bed.

  But all of a sudden, Noah’s hands are under my arms, pulling me back up.

  “Noah,” I whine, connecting our eyes.

  “Please?” Noah begs, his eyes looking like little puppy-dog ones.

  I shake my head but start jumping lightly.

  “Fun, right?” Noah laughs, enjoying himself.

  But I’m not sure how he can think this is that fun. He’s barely able to jump next to me, his head almost reaching the ceiling each time he does.

  I jump a bit, loosening up.

  “I guess,” I answer.

  “You guess?” he says, looking hurt.

  “Fine. It is,” I agree, continuing to jump.

  I glance down, watching my skirt float around me before falling back down with each jump.

  “It’s so flippy today,” I say, playing with the hem of my uniform.

  I twirl around, letting it fly out around me. It sort of makes me feel like a little kid, and Noah’s right; it’s fun.

  “It is,” Noah agrees, his eyes on my skirt.

  I can’t help but giggle.

  Everything is going to be fine.

  “What on earth has gotten into you two?”

  I turn toward the voice, finding Helen standing in the doorway.

  And she doesn’t look happy. I glance over at Noah, who is biting his lip to keep from laughing.

  “Sorry, Mum,” he finally says.

  “Yeah, sorry, Hele
n,” I add.

  But I can’t imagine that our apologies do any good because we’re both still standing frozen on Noah’s bed, and Helen’s looking at us like we’re animals.

  “Wildly inappropriate,” she says, her hands coming up to her face like she’s horrified. “You could break something. Like my nice oak furniture.”

  “You’re right,” Noah agrees, nodding his head.

  He actually looks sorry now, and I do my best to stay serious.

  “Wait until your father hears about this,” Helen says, pointing a firm finger at Noah like she’s scolding a little boy before walking away.

  “That’s the most upset I’ve seen your mom.”

  “She doesn’t mess around when it comes to her house,” Noah agrees.

  “Apparently not. But be honest, are you scared of your dad?”

  Noah shakes his head. “Mum’s the one you have to watch out for. She’ll start spouting off how terrible of a child I am, talking to my dad in Greek-lish.”

  “Really?” I laugh.

  “Mmhmm.” Noah nods. “He’ll calm her down. Then, he’ll say he will have a chat with us. Maybe he will. Maybe he won’t.”

  “So, you’re terrified.” I laugh, totally able to imagine Helen and Gene’s interaction.

  He’s definitely the type that would have to be a good soother because I can see Helen getting worked up.

  “Mum’s traditional. Even though she runs the house, the man is the man,” Noah states, puffing out his chest as he says it.

  I let out a laugh at his impression.

  “Oh, wait, I have to ask your mom about going shopping,” I interrupt.

  “Helen,” I call out.

  She pops her head out of her bedroom, so I move toward her.

  “I’m sorry about that,” I say, knowing that I should probably apologize again. “Noah was just trying to cheer me up.”

  Helen nods like she understands but doesn’t reply.

  “I wanted to ask if it is all right if I sleep over at Naomi’s tonight. She wants to go shopping and then hang out.”