London Prep: Book Two

by Dodd, Jillian

  “Mohammad!” I scold, wanting to throw it back at him.

  Mohammad pinches his mouth shut, trying to keep from bursting out with laughter.

  I glance around, noticing that everyone is staring at me, and I move my hand behind my back, trying to hide what he gave me.

  I flash everyone a smile. Then, I lean closer to Mohammad and talk through clenched teeth, “You are so not funny.”

  “I’m not trying to be funny. I’m trying to make sure you’re safe,” Mohammad says, grabbing the condom from behind my back and shoving it into his pocket.

  “I can take care of myself, thank you very much,” I reply as the doorbell goes off.

  “Don’t finish the game without me,” Harry calls out, going to get the door.

  I look up and notice that Noah is staring at me.

  Actually, that’s not right. He’s staring at my hand. The hand that Mohammad had shoved the condom into. He’s glaring at it.

  “I think if you pull out another condom, Noah might murder us both,” I whisper.

  “It’s probably for the best. He’s going to have to get used to it at some point,” Mohammad says with a shrug.

  My eyes find Noah’s. We stare at each other for a moment and then both bring our drinks to our lips, Noah guzzling his wine and me downing my rum.

  And I realize that I’m starting to feel a little buzzed.

  I think we all are.

  “George,” Naomi says when a guy enters the room. Her cheeks flush as he gives her a quick hug.

  “She literally has no game,” Olivia says, sitting down next to me. She flicks her hair off of her shoulder, her eyes still on Naomi.

  “I think that’s a good thing. Naomi is sweet. Probably one of the sweetest people I’ve met.”

  “She is,” Olivia agrees.

  “And I think it’s something to be cherished, not changed.”

  “I’m not saying I don’t cherish her,” she says, using my words. “I’m saying she’s going to need a little help, not getting played by him.”

  “Really?” I study George for a moment.

  He’s a tall, pretty boy. A little too good-looking for his own good. Exactly the type I could see Naomi going for.

  “Mmhmm,” Olivia confirms. “Naomi wants a boyfriend, but I think George is just looking for a good time.” Olivia raises her eyebrow at me but then plasters a smile onto her face. “Watch this.”

  “George.” Olivia saunters up to him, her hips swaying with each step. “Nice to see you again.”

  “Hey, Olivia,” he says, flashing her a grin.

  “Mallory,” Naomi says, waving me over. “I want to introduce you to everyone.”

  She introduces me to George first, telling me his name, which I think, by now, I already know. “And then we have Katherine, Collin, and Thomas,” she says.

  I look them over, noticing how Collin and Katherine are standing practically as one.

  They’re definitely together.

  My eyes slip to Thomas. I take in his thick white glasses and button-down shirt. He’s got that hipster London style that Naomi was talking about.

  “It’s nice to meet you.” I smile, nodding to them.

  “Mallory’s an exchange student from New York,” Naomi gushes.

  I blush, feeling all of their eyes on me.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mallory,” George says in a deep, smooth voice.

  “Help yourself to a drink,” Harry says, tilting his head toward the cabinet filled with liquor bottles.

  “Thanks,” they reply, heading to the bar.

  Harry walks over to Mohammad, wrapping his arm over his shoulders. “I’m starved, Mohammad. Can I please eat now?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Mohammad says, sitting down on the couch with Harry and opening up the food.

  I watch Harry dig into the bag, pulling out a burrito and taking a bite.

  I feel a presence next to me and realize Noah is now standing by my side.

  “Hungry?” I ask him.

  “Not really,” he admits.

  “Well, you should eat anyway,” I comment. “You’ve been drinking.”

  “And I will continue to,” he says, raising a new glass in his hand.

  “Noah, what’s wrong?” I ask, turning toward him.

  “I’m fine. But thanks for the concern,” he says, shouldering past me and sitting down on the couch.

  “All right, everyone, grab a drink,” Harry says, standing back up. “Mohammad here is going to make a toast for the night, and I want everyone gathered around.”

  Mohammad stands up next to Harry like it’s the proudest moment of his life.

  I watch Noah roll his eyes, but he does as he was told and stands back up.

  Naomi bumps her shoulder into mine, grinning from ear to ear. “He’s so gorgeous, right?” she asks, watching as George, Katherine, and Collin finish pouring drinks.

  Thomas is already standing next to Olivia, both of them holding out their glasses.

  “He is.” I smile at her. “And he seems nice.”

  When everyone takes their places, Mohammad speaks up, “Cheers to an ace night with new friends.” He brings out both his charm and his pearly grin as he raises his glass.

  “Cheers,” we all say.

  I smile and sit back down, deciding that if I’m telling Noah to eat, I should probably eat too.

  I pick at the food, deciding to snack on some chips and salsa.

  “Fuck, this is good,” Harry says, nodding his head, biting into another burrito.

  “I know,” Mohammad says, agreeing.

  Once I get some food into my stomach, I have more energy.

  “Mohammad, crank up the music,” I demand, wanting to dance.

  Harry turns the lights down as Mohammad puts on a good song, and before I know it, I’m dancing with Harry, Thomas, Collin, and Katherine.

  I point to Naomi and George, who are still sitting on the couch, waving them over. Naomi shakes her head, her nose crinkling up.

  Olivia drags Mohammad out to where we’re dancing, and I half-expect her to grind against him, trying to make Harry jealous.

  But it’s me who is surprised when Mohammad spins her around, dancing with her like he’s at prom.

  What’s even more startling though is that Olivia’s laughing and going along with it.

  Noah’s over by the couch, still poking at his food.

  “Go get Noah,” I whisper to Harry, wanting him to have fun and dance with us.

  Harry does as I asked and goes over there.

  Noah looks like he’s about to throw a fit and say no when Harry says, “For me?”

  Noah’s face softens, and I watch him give in.

  “For you,” he agrees.

  And suddenly, he’s pulling out these dance moves I’ve never seen.

  “Look at you.” I laugh, watching Noah actually move his hips.

  He grins at me. But then his eyes slip down to my lips, and I have to turn away.

  “Orange is a good color on you,” I hear Olivia say to Mohammad.

  “I dress to impress,” he says, winking at her.

  “I’m going to top off my drink,” I say to Harry, feeling like I need a little air.

  I go back to the bar and pour myself some of the wine, deciding I probably shouldn’t continue downing hard liquor. Harry goes over to the couches, grabs some more food, and chats with George and Naomi.

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen Harry eat so much.

  I glance back over at Mohammad and Olivia, a little freaked out by their interaction, when Noah steps in front of me.

  “Did you know that you talk a lot?” he comments, resting his back against the liquor cabinet.

  “What?” I ask. “Me?”

  “You.” Noah nods, tilting his chin down in agreement.

  “Noah,” I scold, shaking my head at him, “are you trying to be rude?” I drain the rest of the wine in my glass, holding up the empty bottle. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go get some
more wine.” I push past him, moving out into the hallway.

  Because I do not want to deal with his attitude right now. He’s been rude all night, and he’s officially irritating me.

  But Noah follows me.

  “I like that you talk a lot,” he interjects, stopping me.

  His eyes shift to mine as I try to figure out where this is coming from.

  “It’s funny. I’m not that big of a talker,” he says, leaning against the wall. “I like what you have to say though.”

  “You do?”

  Noah’s words continue to surprise me, and I can’t help but shift toward him.

  “Mmhmm. I like it for other reasons too though.”

  “What reasons?” I ask, curious.

  “I find you interesting. The moments you’re especially sassy versus the moments you’re quiet. I think you value both equally. You’re pretty straightforward. When you’re happy, you naturally talk more. When you’re sad, you naturally talk less. But what’s unusual is when you don’t talk. When you have nothing to say. When you don’t have anything to come back with.”

  “And you find that interesting?” I laugh, realizing that he is kind of right.

  My mood really does dictate if I’m talkative or not.

  Noah takes a step closer to me, his body moving well beyond the line of personal space. “I like that when I get close to you like this or touch your lips,” he says, running his finger over my bottom lip, “that you get silent. You always have something prepared to say. But with me, here, you don’t. I like that when you look into my eyes, I know you’re really looking. You’re in the moment with me. You don’t lose your words, but I don’t think you need them.”

  I swallow hard, wanting to ignore the way his finger on my lip makes me feel. “What are you saying, Noah?”

  “I’m saying that I hear you talk about Harry. I hear you talk about liking him. I hear you flirt. I hear your banter. I hear, I hear, I hear,” he says, his head bouncing with the words. “But I don’t feel it, Mal. I don’t see it. But with me … it’s obvious. We don’t talk about it because we know it’s there.”

  “What is, Noah?” I say, frustrated, wanting to push him away. “This elusive chemistry? Fine, it’s there. I’m not denying it. But I’m also not going to act on it. Account for it. It’s not consistent. I can’t depend on you.”

  The words burn as they leave my mouth, but I have to say them. Because they’re true. And Noah needs to hear them.

  Noah searches my eyes, his hand coming up to my cheek.

  I push it away.

  “But you feel something for me, Mal,” he says, confused. “I don’t talk about it because I know it’s there. We both know it.”

  “We can’t talk about this,” I say, upset. “I’m here with Harry, and there’s nothing between us. Just like you said.”

  I walk away from Noah, feeling upset.

  And hurt.

  And flustered.

  Because he doesn’t have a right to do this to me.

  Or say those things.

  He caught me off guard, and I hadn’t been prepared for it. I never am.

  But that’s the thing with Noah.

  One second, he wants me, and the next, he hates me.

  “I need some fresh air,” I say walking back into the room and straight up to Harry.

  “Let’s go out for a fag.” He leads me upstairs to a balcony.

  It’s chilly out, but Harry wraps his arms around me, running his fingers up and down my arms. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket before sitting down.

  He pats his leg, so I sit down on his lap and wrap my arm around his neck.

  “Are you having fun?” I ask as Harry takes a drag while I try to forget about what Noah just said.

  Harry blows smoke out, and I watch it waft way into the dark night sky.

  “Surprisingly,” he says.

  “Surprisingly?” I tease, pressing my hand against his chest.

  He lets out a chuckle before taking another drag. “I’ll admit, I thought it might be awkward, having more people, but it’s been fun so far.”

  “I’m glad you’re having a good time,” I tell him.

  His blue eyes meet mine. When I shiver against him, he wraps his arm around me tighter, his fingers pressing into my side.

  “This is nice,” I say, taking in the silence.

  Being alone in Harry’s arms makes everything feel right.

  Unlike how things felt in the hallway with Noah. It felt … desperate. And I didn’t like it.

  “Harry, you said before that you wanted to go back to your family’s country house with me, right?” I ask, bringing up something we haven’t talked about since our date earlier in the week.

  “Yeah.” He nods.

  “I want to do that. To go there.”

  “What, like now?” he asks, amused.

  “No, not now …” I stutter, trying to find my words. “I want to go with you. It’s important to me.”

  Harry glances up to me, tilting his head. “Then, we will go.”

  “How?” I ask immediately.

  Because it’s bothering me. How? When? Why? Why put ourselves through this? Is it even fun? Is it worth it?

  We have school all week. And then I’m supposed to leave.

  But I can’t think like that.

  “I can make it happen,” he urges.

  “But your parents.”

  “Are occupied—thank God,” he says, taking another drag.

  I want to ask when.

  When can we go?

  But I don’t.

  “So, we can go?” I ask again.

  “We can go,” Harry agrees.

  I look into his deep blue eyes, feeling like I’m swimming in them. In an ocean, somewhere far away from here.

  He always makes me feel like that.

  That I could be anywhere.

  That we could be anywhere together.

  But at the same time, I wouldn’t want to be anyplace but right here, in his arms.

  I lower my lips onto his. He tastes like alcohol and cigarettes. But he still tastes like him. I dip my tongue into his mouth, pressing my body against him harder.

  Harry opens his eyes a bit, glancing toward the ashtray and putting out his cigarette while he’s kissing me. Then, both of his hands are wrapped around me, and his fingers are slipping under my dress.

  I slow our kissing, letting the feeling of his hands on my skin settle into me. I pull my face away from his, really looking at him. Taking in his eye color and his blond eyelashes. His pale lips and defined jaw. I bite my lip, looking over him.

  But when Harry’s fingers graze the edge of my underwear, I force my lips back against his.

  “Harry,” I whisper, knowing we should get back to the party.

  But I can’t move. I don’t want to.

  I want to stay right here forever, feeling this way with him.

  “Just for a minute?” he asks against my lips.

  And I can hear it in his voice.

  He wants to be here, with me now.

  He wants to experience … us.

  His hand slips into my underwear, and I can feel his fingers aching to move, but he stops them. The sensation causes goose bumps to rise on my skin.

  “Just for a minute,” I agree, putting my mouth back onto his.

  Harry’s fingers move against me, and it’s overwhelming.

  Because I can’t imagine being anywhere else.

  Experiencing this, feeling this way, about anyone else.

  When we get back to the party, not much has changed. Naomi and George are still seated on one of the couches, looking cozy. Thomas is playing a round of pool with Collin, Katherine watching alongside him. Noah, to my surprise, is dancing with Olivia and Mohammad.

  “Well, shit, if my boys are dancing, then I’m dancing,” Harry says, kissing me on the lips.

  “Go.” I smile, deciding to search for another bottle of wine.

  I coul
d use a minute to myself, so I go down to the kitchen, finding a wine fridge and pulling out a bottle of chardonnay.

  I open it up and take a sip, leaning against the counter. I think about being out on the balcony with Harry. Things heated up quickly, but it felt good. And it made me realize that no matter what Harry or I do, he always makes me feel good.

  And that’s what I want.

  To be with someone who makes me feel good.

  Who cares about me.

  Who doesn’t want to just mess with me.

  Or hurt me.

  My first time should be with someone who makes me feel safe and cared for.

  And Harry makes me feel that way.

  I head back toward the boys’ club, feeling content. When I step back in the room, it’s hard to see. And while the lights have been turned way down, the thumping music has been turned way up.

  “This is harder for me than I thought,” Noah says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

  “Noah.”

  “No,” he says, holding his finger up to my lips to shush me. “This is why I had to drink a little too much tonight,” he continues, his words really slurring now.

  “What’s harder than you thought?” I ask, wrapping my arm around his waist to steady him.

  I move with him out from the party to an empty sitting room, hoping no one will notice we’re gone. I get him in front of a couch, and he practically falls onto it. And I wonder if he might have drunk more than I thought.

  Noah’s body relaxes into the sofa, his head falling back onto the cushion.

  “This,” he says, pouting. Noah pushes his arms out into the air and then shrugs his shoulders.

  “Talk to me,” I say, wanting to understand.

  Because, right now, he’s making no sense. And I can’t help him if I don’t understand what’s going on in his head.

  “Mal,” he says, grabbing on to my hand. He holds it in his palm, outstretched in front of him. He slips his fingers across my hand, almost rubbing it.

  I glance down at him. He’s looking up at me through his thick lashes, his head still resting back. His creamy skin is flushed, and his eyes are glazed over.

  He rubs his fingers across my hand again, and I swallow hard at the feeling.

  “I thought I could forget this,” he says, pulling me closer, down onto the sofa next to him.

  “Forget what?” I ask, trying to take my hand back. But he won’t let me have it.