London Prep: Book Two

by Dodd, Jillian

  “It’s important to eat something before you start drinking. I want to have fun, and my idea of fun doesn’t include being sick over the toilet while hot girls are partying without me.”

  “Plus, burritos are amazing when reheated,” Noah comments. He’s standing in front of the bar, a bottle of whiskey already at his lips.

  “So, it’s a win-win.” Mohammad nods, agreeing.

  “Well, guacamole sounds amazing. And I agree; it’s better to have some food in your stomach.” I glance back over to Noah, watching as he takes another sip. “Already started without us?”

  Noah just shrugs at me.

  Okay then. I guess my question doesn’t warrant an actual answer.

  Noah grabs on to the bottle, bringing it over and setting it down on the coffee table.

  “Now, we can share,” he says flatly, sitting down on the couch opposite of Mohammad and me.

  Oh, joy.

  Noah is going to be in one of his moods tonight, and I can already see it’s not going to be a fun one.

  “That was so thoughtful,” I sass back, taking the bottle from the table and sucking down a gulp.

  “My God,” Harry says, joining us. “Drinking without me? In my own home. It’s anarchy.” He throws his hand over his chest like he’s been shot through the heart.

  “I waited for you,” Mohammad says, getting up and walking toward Harry.

  “I believe that you did,” Harry says, throwing his arm over Mohammad’s shoulders and leading him to the liquor cabinet. “All right, I want four shot glasses, a bottle of vodka, a bottle of scotch, and four lowballs over on the coffee table.”

  “You got it,” Mohammad says enthusiastically.

  I watch him easily move around the liquor bottles and glasses, his fingers finding exactly what he’s looking for.

  A few seconds later, Mohammad is setting down glasses and bottles.

  I look across the coffee table at Noah, waiting for Harry and Mohammad to join us.

  Noah’s glaring at me, his thick arms crossed over his chest.

  I roll my eyes at him.

  Because if he wants to sit and glare at me, then fine.

  I’ll just sit and glare back.

  “All right, boys,” Harry says, sitting down on the couch next to Noah. He adds an ashtray and cigars to the table and then throws his arm around Noah.

  I watch Noah’s eyes move from me to Harry.

  And the second they do, his entire mood seems to change.

  He’s back to fun, smiling Noah.

  And it pisses me off.

  “I’m thinking shots and a toast to get us started and then cigars and a fine scotch to really kick off this party,” Harry says brightly. “What do you say, boys?”

  “I’m down,” Noah says first.

  His words catch all of our attention, and Mohammad looks at him with surprise.

  “That’s my boy,” Harry says, pulling him into a hug.

  “Mohammad, what’s the update on food?” Harry asks, filling up four shot glasses.

  “Food is on the way.” Mohammad nods, like his duty for the night is done. And he really seems proud of himself.

  “When are Naomi and Olivia getting here?” Noah ask.

  “They should be here within the next half hour or so,” I say, trying to avoid making eye contact with him.

  Harry nods, passing out the shot glasses. He raises up his own. “Cheers to nights with the lads.” He grins, looking between Noah and Mohammad. “And to one stunning woman,” he says, eyeing me. “Boys?”

  “Cheers to the birds being in flight,” Mohammad says, apparently making a play on words about the girls being on their way.

  “Clever.” I laugh.

  “Cheers to friendship,” I add, wanting tonight to be fun for all of us.

  “Noah?” Harry says, turning toward him. “What shall the final toast be then? Let’s make it a good one.”

  Noah looks over to Harry before looking directly at me, holding up his shot glass. “Cheers to the happy couple,” he says, his eyes shifting between Harry and me. “Congratulations are in order for making it official this week. And cheers to having a special night. Let’s hope we all remember it in the morning.”

  I narrow my eyes in on him, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

  Cheers to the happy couple and having a special night.

  I let out a heavy breath and down my shot.

  “I never took you for being so sentimental,” I say to Noah as the alcohol burns down my throat.

  “Thoughtful, wasn’t it?” Harry beams, apparently having completely missed what Noah did there.

  I glance over to Mohammad, and he looks back at me, raising his eyebrow in question.

  I just shrug.

  “Now, onto the scotch,” Harry declares, pulling the crystal topper from a decanter. He hands us each a cigar, passing around the lighter.

  “I’ve never smoked one of these,” I admit.

  “You don’t inhale,” Harry says, getting up and moving next to me. He holds on to the cigar with his fingers wrapped around mine as he lights it.

  “Thanks.” I scoot closer toward him.

  “Mohammad, any music in mind?” Harry asks, leaning back into the couch, pulling me in tighter.

  “For sure,” Mohammad says, shuffling through his phone.

  I watch Noah dip the end of his cigar into his scotch, looking a little more relaxed.

  “You look really nice, by the way,” I say to Harry, taking in his soft cashmere sweater.

  “Well, you see, I had to get dressed up for this girl,” he says, taking a puff of his cigar.

  “I’m sure she appreciates the effort,” I whisper back, smiling at him.

  I give the cigar a try, taking a puff but not exactly liking the flavor or smoke in my mouth.

  “Oh, yeah.” Mohammad gets up, nodding his head along with the beat, shaking his butt.

  “I like it.” I grin.

  “I’m not sure why we even bother going out to the club. We’ve got the best DJ in town right here.” Harry grins at Mohammad, his eyes sparkling.

  I put my cigar down, deciding that if we’re going to have a good time, we need to start doing so.

  “Come on,” I say, pulling Harry up off the couch. I drag him over to Mohammad and start dancing with them.

  I twirl around, having no clue what I’m doing.

  But it’s fun.

  I look over to Noah, finding him sitting on the couch, watching us with a smile.

  I dance my way over to him, drink in hand.

  I plop down onto the couch next to him, trying not to spill.

  “All right, I know you’re a terrible dancer, but so am I, so it’s no excuse,” I say to him. “So, let’s finish off these drinks and start having fun.”

  I clink my glass against his, carefully watching his expression.

  Noah’s eyes are on me as I bring the glass to my lips, finishing off the scotch. He doesn’t look convinced at first, but finally, he raises his glass up to his mouth, dumping it back.

  “Good.” I smile, pulling him up off the couch.

  “I don’t find dancing as fun as the rest of you,” Noah says. But he shifts back and forth to the music, not looking that upset.

  “That’s because you’re a terrible dancer.” Mohammad grins.

  “No, he isn’t,” I say, defending him.

  “Aww, don’t listen to him,” Harry says. “You know we love your dance moves.”

  Harry dances his way over to the scotch on the table, refreshing his glass. He pours more into mine and Noah’s, handing ours back to us.

  “Thanks.” I grin as I take another sip, feeling loosened up.

  Harry wraps his hands around my waist, pulling my back against his chest. I dance with him, keeping it light and fun.

  But then the doorbell goes off, and all of a sudden, Mohammad’s practically throwing his glass onto the table.

  “Shit, how do I look?” he asks, quickly fixing his hair.


  But before we have a chance to answer, he’s pressing his hands down over his shirt, making sure everything is in place, and then he’s out the door.

  “Well, he’s spazzing,” I mutter, still a little irritated by his enthusiasm.

  “Are you going to play nice and keep your claws in tonight? Or should I be concerned?” Harry says easily, moving to the pool table.

  I roll my eyes at him. “The claws will stay in,” I agree.

  “Aren’t you excited to see Naomi?” Noah asks, confused, grabbing a cue stick.

  “I am.” I nod. “I just … no. We’re going to have fun tonight,” I say the words, realizing that if I want it to happen, then I need to start believing that it can happen.

  “A few more drinks in you, and I think you’ll be having a great time regardless.” Harry laughs, putting the balls into formation.

  “That isn’t a bad plan,” Noah admits, taking another sip.

  I glance over at him as Naomi and Olivia follow Mohammad back into the room.

  Naomi rushes up to me, pulling me into a hug.

  When she pulls back, I take in her outfit.

  “You look hot,” I say, my eyes wide. Because if I thought her boobs were on display before, I was wrong.

  “Thanks.” She gives me a wink and then whispers, “It’s a push-up bra. You know, for a little something extra.”

  “Hey, Harry. Noah,” Naomi says, greeting them.

  “Hey,” they both say back, looking up from the pool table.

  And I think they’re both momentarily distracted by Naomi’s boobs too.

  And I can’t blame them.

  Because even I can’t stop staring.

  “I love what you did with your eye shadow,” Naomi compliments, looking me over.

  “Thanks.” I smile, taking in her makeup.

  She put on a thick black liner and a nice pink lip that matches her dress.

  I glance over to Olivia, who is still talking to Mohammad. She’s in a long sweater dress that’s belted at her waist and hugging her curves in all the right places and a pair of killer heeled boots.

  She looks good, but I didn’t expect anything different.

  I look back at Naomi, taking in her expression. “You look … not as happy as I was expecting,” I admit, trying to figure out what’s wrong. I pull her off to the side, so we can have a little privacy.

  “I messaged George,” she says as Olivia comes up to us.

  “Hey, Mallory,” she says, her eyes on me.

  “Hey,” I reply back, trying to be polite.

  Mohammad comes over and hands both girls a drink.

  They take them almost absentmindedly, like they barely notice that they weren’t there in their hands all along.

  Olivia clinks hers against Naomi’s but looks to me like she’s waiting.

  I clink my glass against both of theirs, and we all take a sip.

  “Are you telling her about George?” Olivia asks, sounding interested.

  Naomi nods. “Well, I texted him tonight, and he texted me back,” she starts, looking conflicted.

  “What, doesn’t he want to come?” I ask, already feeling a little bad for suggesting the idea.

  “No,” Olivia cuts in, shaking her head. “He does. But he’s with other people.”

  “Oh,” I say, not sure how to respond to that.

  “I know,” Naomi says disappointedly.

  “So, the question is, is he telling the truth?” Olivia asks, raising her eyebrows.

  “Well, he’s either telling the truth and wants to see you or—”

  “He’s just looking for a place to party with his friends,” Olivia finishes.

  “I know.” Naomi nods. “That’s the dilemma.”

  “I mean, what do you think? What does your gut tell you?” I ask.

  Naomi purses her lips. “My gut tells me that he’s cute, and I look hot tonight.”

  Olivia smiles at Naomi, nodding in agreement.

  “Well, you should ask Harry then. Maybe he knows them,” I offer.

  “Exactly. I told you that already,” Olivia states.

  “All right,” she agrees.

  “Besides, a few more people could be fun.” I smile, wanting to make the best of it for her.

  “More boys could be fun,” Olivia says seriously.

  “Already given up on Mohammad?” I ask, taking another sip.

  “Who says I have to give anyone up?” she fires back, her eyes on me. “Give me the list.” Olivia grabs Naomi’s phone from her hand.

  “The list?” I ask.

  “She means the names of who George is with,” Naomi corrects.

  “I’ll talk to Harry,” Olivia says, taking off in his direction.

  I open my mouth to say something, but I don’t. I just follow her over to the pool table, watching as Noah sinks a ball into a hole.

  “Nice shot,” I say, raising up my glass to him.

  He nods his head at me, his lips pulling at the corner.

  “Harry,” Olivia says, sauntering up to him.

  “Hmm?” he replies, lining up his next shot.

  “Look, Naomi likes this guy, George. He goes to Westminster, was at her party last week. He wants to drop by with a few friends. Know any of them?”

  Harry shoots and misses, the ball bouncing off the edge and back toward the middle of the table. He leans up and looks at the phone Olivia is holding out.

  “Yeah, whatever, fine,” he says, waving his hand like he couldn’t care less.

  “Great.” Olivia smiles and then rushes back over to Naomi.

  “So, this might actually turn into a party,” I comment, trying to figure out how I feel about more people coming.

  Harry leans down to take another shot, his eyes staying focused on the pool table.

  Noah grabs on to my arm, pulling me around the pool table next to him. Grasping on to my wrists, he brings my hands up in front of me. He examines my fingers closely.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Just checking for claws,” he says seriously, his brown eyes coming up to mine.

  My mouth falls open slightly, and Noah bites into his lip, a huge grin spreading across his face. He drops my hands, letting out a deep chuckle.

  “You’re not that funny,” I say, shoving him.

  “It was pretty funny,” Harry says, his blue eyes sparkling at me.

  I shake my head at both of them.

  “Anyone want to play?” I call out to the others, who seem to have taken up residence on the couches.

  “I will,” Naomi says, bouncing up.

  “I’ll watch,” Olivia says, getting up too.

  “Mohammad?” I ask.

  “I’ll make some drinks,” he says, waving off the invitation.

  “I’ll play you,” Noah says, handing Naomi a cue stick.

  “What do you think, Olivia?” Naomi says, a grin on her face. “Are you going to place any bets on me?”

  “Why don’t you just warm up first?” Olivia replies.

  I smile at their banter. Because it’s fun to see this side of Naomi. The one that is spunky and can hold her own.

  “Harry, do you have any wine?” Olivia asks, finishing off her scotch.

  “Yeah. You know where it’s at. Feel free to open a bottle.”

  Harry moves behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me against his chest.

  “What do you wager?” he says into my ear. “I think Naomi might actually win.”

  “I don’t know. Noah’s pretty good,” I reply, pressing my back into him.

  “Mohammad,” Olivia says, turning toward him, “let’s go find some wine.”

  Olivia grabs Mohammad’s arm, pulling him out of the room.

  “Yes,” Naomi squeals as she sinks one in.

  “Shit,” Noah mutters, looking surprised.

  “You might be right,” I whisper to Harry, running my hands up and down his arms. “She’s good.”

  By the time Olivia and Mohammad
come back, they’ve got the food and a bottle of wine, and Naomi is absolutely destroying Noah.

  “All right, mate,” Harry says, leaving me to give Noah moral support, “you’ve got this.”

  Mohammad drops the bags of food onto the coffee table and then comes to stand beside me.

  “Who would have thought that Naomi Fleming was a pro at billiards?” Mohammad says, impressed.

  “I told you,” I say because this is the moment I’ve been waiting for. This is my moment to plant the Naomi seed in his head. “Naomi’s a badass. She’s beautiful, she’s good at billiards, she has already finished off her drink, and she has the two Bs.”

  Mohammad disapprovingly glances over at me. “You’re not that sneaky, Miss America. I’ll give you props for trying, but you know I have only one blonde on my mind tonight.”

  I stick out my tongue at him, wishing he would just stop being so smart and let me manipulate him.

  “Yeah, Harry’s ex …” I huff.

  Mohammad pats me on the head. “Here, let me top off your drink.”

  He goes over to the liquor cabinet, finishing what he started before Olivia dragged him off to find wine.

  And what even was that?

  Were they actually looking for wine?

  Maybe they were.

  Or maybe Olivia just didn’t want to look like Harry had brushed her off.

  Who knows?

  Who cares?

  I know I don’t.

  Mohammad pours a bunch of drinks. He hands Olivia a glass of deep red wine.

  Harry and Naomi each get a whiskey.

  And by Noah, who sinks in a shot, Mohammad sets a glass of wine.

  I chuckle to myself, wondering if Noah could be into wine like his dad or if it’s because he’s a lightweight.

  “And two rums for us,” Mohammad says, handing me a glass.

  “I’m not sure how you do it,” I admit, admiring his skills.

  “I told you, I pay attention,” he says to me, those pearly whites coming out.

  “You really do.”

  “And speaking of paying attention, Harry’s been wrapped around you all night.”

  “We’re getting along really well,” I admit, knowing that he’s right.

  Harry has been especially sweet to me.

  And it feels good.

  “Well, just in case that spills over into the bedroom,” Mohammad says, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a condom, and handing it to me.