London Prep

by Dodd, Jillian

  Noah smiles back at him. “I mean, yeah, I have a choice. But I want to. If it means I’m that much better for the Cup in the spring, then it’s not a big deal to add in.” Noah looks conflicted, but his voice sounds sure.

  “What are you trying so hard to prepare for?” I ask, curious.

  “Every spring, the London Schools’ Football Association has a tournament where all the academies compete, and Coach thinks we have a real shot at making the finals this year,” Noah says.

  “Our boy Noah wants to be the best,” Mohammad adds. “My mum wishes you were her son.”

  “Oh, come on. No, she doesn’t,” Noah scoffs.

  “She really does,” Mohammad confirms. “Every day, when I get home, she asks about my courses. She gets this disappointed look on her face and grabs at her temples, always sighing, saying if only I was as ‘focused and driven as Noah.’ ”

  “That’s the benefit of having parents who are always out of town,” Harry cuts in. “Speaking of which, you boys down for some billiards tonight?”

  Both Noah and Mohammad grin, but then I hear the sound of heels clicking toward us and notice Mohammad’s eyes shift to a girl approaching our table.

  The girl is beautiful. She has a round face and full lips. Her blonde hair is parted in the middle and pulled back into a low bun. Her eyes are accentuated by full brows, and when she gets to the table, she bats her lashes at the boys.

  “Harry,” she says, giving him a flirtatious smile.

  I notice that Harry doesn’t look up. Instead, he keeps his attention on his empty soda can.

  “Hey, Olivia.” His words come out flatly, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him look so uninterested.

  When I turn to Mohammad, however, his eyes are as big as saucers in a way that causes me concern.

  “And who do we have here?” the girl, Olivia, says, addressing me. Her voice is low and smooth.

  No one else responds, so I say, “Hey, I’m Mallory.”

  “Ah, yes. Mallory,” she says, giving me a once-over. “Did you know that you’re sitting across from my boyfriend, Mallory?”

  I’m shocked by her statement, but I also can’t believe she actually just said that.

  “Ex-boyfriend,” Harry corrects, looking between the two of us, his expression unreadable.

  “Please,” she says softly, “you know we will be on again any day now. It is our pattern. And the fact that you can’t keep your hands off me …” She lets the words linger as she glares directly at me.

  Noah rolls his eyes. Mohammad’s mouth is practically hanging open. I swear, I might have heard his jaw hit the table with her last sentence. Olivia is still standing there, staring at me.

  And I decide if she wants to play this game, then fine. So will I.

  “Actually, now that you mention it, I do remember Harry telling me about his pathetic ex-girlfriend yesterday. I just now realized that is you.” I give her the same once-over she gave me earlier. “Olivia, was it? Really nice to meet you.” I watch as her mouth drops open.

  Mohammad practically chokes next to me and both Harry and Noah stare across the table at me. I don’t connect with either of their gazes, letting my focus remain on Olivia.

  A moment later, Harry is laughing, holding on to his stomach, while Olivia towers over us.

  “Excuse me,” she seethes, looking like she might actually attack me. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

  “I’ve already told you once, but maybe you need to be reminded. I’m Mallory.” I smile at her again. Okay, so maybe I kind of smirk.

  “You were with her yesterday?” she says, turning to speak directly to Harry.

  He’s trying to cover up his laugh and ends up just nodding at her.

  “Stay away from him,” she says to me, her face turning red.

  “If only you had told me that before yesterday. It’s a little too late for that now, I’m afraid.” I shrug my shoulders, pretending to be sorry.

  And she knows I’m pretending. I can practically see steam coming out of her ears. She scowls, gives the boys looks that could kill, then turns on her heels, and stomps off.

  I take another bite of my mac and cheese, deciding, compared to that nightmare of a girl, it isn’t half-bad.

  “Holy shit,” Mohammad says, his chest rising and falling. “No one has ever told off Olivia Winters like that before.”

  “It was fucking brilliant,” Harry says to me, his eyes glistening in admiration.

  “Are you mad?” Noah whispers across the table.

  “What? She was being a territorial bitch. She was rude to me and needed to be put in her place.”

  “She was being territorial because she is right. Harry was her boyfriend, what, a week ago?” Noah asks, looking between the three of us.

  Mohammad nods, agreeing.

  “So what?” Harry states. “I broke up with her. We aren’t on a break, like she’s telling everyone. We’re done. And she knows it. Mallory’s right. She needed to be put in her place.”

  “That was a dick move,” Noah says to Harry.

  Harry’s smile falls a little, and he lets out a long breath. “Fine. I’ll apologize to Olivia. But we aren’t together. Are not getting back together. And she needs to get that idea through her head.”

  Noah looks somewhat appeased by what Harry said, but he is still glaring at me. Then, all of a sudden, he stands up, and Harry follows suit.

  Before Harry leaves, he places a quick kiss on my cheek.

  “Bloody brilliant, babe,” he says. “See you in Geography.” He gives me a wink and grin before following Noah.

  His lips warmed my skin, and the fact that he found out what my schedule is puts butterflies in my stomach.

  “Holy. Shit,” Mohammad says, turning to me after they leave. “That was terrifying. I thought Olivia was going to murder us all.”

  I roll my eyes at him. “Don’t be scared. I’m fluent in bitch, and I just gave her bitchiness back to her. There’s nothing worse than a girl who thinks she can do or say whatever she wants just because she’s beautiful and popular. Someone had to inform her that the rest of us don’t give a shit.”

  Mohammad shakes his head at me. “You really pissed her off, you know that, right?”

  “Well, she was really rude to me, and that pissed me off,” I reply, defending myself. Because it’s the truth.

  Maybe I didn’t have to be so harsh, but honestly, I’m not starting off like that. Hell no. She’s on some sort of power trip, and I am not going to put up with it for my three weeks here. Better to nip it in the bud now than have to suffer through it.

  “Don’t you want to have, well, friends who are girls?” Mohammad asks, his golden eyes connecting to mine.

  “I have friends at home. It’s not like I’ll be here forever. It’s just three weeks.”

  “Three weeks.” He nods, looking a little defeated.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” I say, correcting myself.

  “I know,” Mohammad replies, his face brightening. “Still, if you were trying to get on the wrong side of one of the most influential girls in school, you’ve done it. And trust me, she is a nightmare.”

  “She really is,” I agree, letting out the breath I was holding in.

  I try to laugh off the encounter, but Mohammad is right. I was kind of a bitch to her. And I probably did just piss off the most popular girl in school, which means I’ll have to deal with the backlash. The day is only half over, and I’m already exhausted.

  “You American girls, you really don’t mind confrontation.” He laughs.

  I shake my head, trying to calm down. The bell rings, so we both get up.

  I find my way back to my locker, putting in my stats textbook and notes and look at my schedule. Art. Well, at least that should be easy. I didn’t get any textbook or instructions, so I grab another notebook and make my way to classroom 116. I’m looking all over for it, but all I see are numbers less than a hundred.

  Not another word.
>
  Art

  I hear the bell ring, announcing that classes have started up again. Ugh, I huff to myself, realizing that I have to go up a floor. Apparently, the British consider the first floor to be the second floor, and when I finally find my way to art class, I’m pissed off and late.

  “Miss James,” the teacher says as soon as I walk in.

  All the eyes in the room turn in my direction.

  “That’s me,” I reply back with a tight-lipped smile.

  “Good.” She nods, motioning for me to take a seat in the front of the class.

  Right next to Noah.

  I roll my eyes as I slide onto the stool next to him. I see him open his mouth, but I turn to him, holding up my finger.

  “Not another word,” I threaten.

  He looks from me down to the table, and fortunately, he complies. I dramatically lay my face on the table, and I let out another freaking sigh.

  “Well, all right then,” the teacher says, probably wondering what in the fuck I’m doing.

  But I can’t stand this anymore. Yes, my name is Mallory. Yes, I’m from New York. Yes, I know Harry has a girlfriend. And, yes, I am again sitting next to Noah, the boy who hates me.

  Thankfully, she doesn’t make me introduce myself. Maybe she was in the lunchroom and understands that after my chat with Olivia, everyone already knows exactly who I am.

  She starts speaking to the class, “Today’s focus is going to be on shading. I want to continue where we left off on Friday, but we’ll start adding depth and dimension to our drawings.”

  She walks up to me, hands me an already-sketched outline of a still life, and says, “Do your best to follow along, and if you have any questions, please ask either Noah or myself. We will both be happy to help.”

  I nod my head at her and then pull the paper in front of me, eager for the distraction. I watch as she shades hers on the projector, taking the class through each step of the process. I like that she breaks it down. In my old art classes, they emphasized creativity and making it your own. It was always stop thinking and start drawing. And, well, that really isn’t me, but I find myself easily lost in the rhythm of shading.

  Noah’s arm bumps against mine, and my gaze slides from the still life to him, watching as he mindlessly shades. His eyes are narrowed in concentration, but his expression is blank.

  He hasn’t spoken to me this entire time, and I can’t blame him.

  “I’m sorry I shushed you,” I whisper while I keep my chin tucked down, continuing to sketch.

  His arm brushes against mine again, sending tingles up my skin.

  “I appreciate that,” he whispers back, but he doesn’t expand upon the thought or give me anything else to go on.

  I press my pencil down a little harder, silently wishing I hadn’t said anything at all.

  Eventually, the bell goes off, so I write my name on the corner of the page and drop it on the teacher’s desk as I walk out.

  Attack those lips.

  Geography

  I should have paid better attention to my school tour yesterday because for someone who is usually prepped and ready to go, I realize that I didn’t have time to even look at the school map. Which means I barely make it into Geography before the bell goes off again.

  I’m irritated with myself, but the moment I walk through the door, my eyes land on Harry. He gives me a nod, motioning for me to sit in the open seat in front of him. I step over a backpack as I walk down the aisle of desks toward him and can’t help but smile.

  He saved me a seat.

  I sit down and notice that the teacher isn’t in the classroom yet, for which I’m thankful. I consider turning around to talk to Harry, but part of me wants him to work for it a little. Especially after the situation with his ex-girlfriend at lunch.

  So, instead of looking back at his animated grin, I sit straight forward, keeping my eyes on the front of the room.

  “I think you’re going to enjoy Geography,” Harry says, running his pencil across the back of my neck.

  I try not to close my eyes at the sensation. But goose bumps do rise up my arms, and even though I won’t let him know it, he definitely has my full attention.

  “Really?” I shrug, turning my head just a bit to glance over my shoulder. “Why’s that?” I don’t turn all the way around, and I’m still facing forward. Mostly because I’m afraid if I do, I’ll want to attack those lips of his again.

  And that would probably send the class into a frenzy.

  “Well,” he says, leaning in so close that his lips brush against my ear, “we study different locations.”

  His hand finds its way onto my shoulder and then slides slowly down my arm. I sit up straighter, trying not to show how much I’m enjoying his touch.

  “And we study people’s relationships to those locations,” he says, his voice lowered as his hand slips over my wrist, grazing against my fingers.

  “I see,” I barely get out.

  “Interesting, isn’t it?” he continues as he removes his hand from mine.

  As he shifts away from me, it’s like I can breathe again. The room and voices around me come back into focus.

  I hear Harry lean back in his chair, so I turn around.

  “I’m not sure you’re talking about Geography.” I raise my eyebrows at him. Because with his lips not at my ear and his hands not on me, I can finally think again.

  “Oh, you caught that, huh?” he says, almost blushing.

  It’s the first time I’ve seen him look a little bashful, and it’s freaking adorable.

  “I did,” I admit. “You’re witty; I’ll give you that,” I say the words and then turn back around.

  “And did it impress you?” he questions, his lips back at my ear again.

  “Would you stop trying if I said no?” I reply, enjoying flirting with him.

  “Definitely not. Actually, I think it might motivate me further.”

  He plays with a piece of hair at the back of my neck, and it brings a smile to my face. A moment later though, my smile disappears when I catch a glimpse of Olivia glaring at me. I’m not sure how I didn’t notice her when I first came into the room, but there’s no missing her now. She’s one row and four seats over, and both she and another girl are staring at me. I hold her gaze, wondering if she’s trying to play a game of chicken with me. She never stops scowling, but eventually, she gets bored and looks away. She’s not worth my time. I look toward the door, wondering if I made a run for it, how far I’d get before Olivia tackled me. I try to keep the smile on my face and ignore her, but it’s hard to focus when two sets of eyes are on me and Harry’s hand is in my hair.

  I turn a little, whispering over my shoulder, “I think your ex might murder me if you continue doing that.”

  “Don’t worry about her,” he replies, dropping his fingers onto his desk. “Let’s go out after class.”

  “I don’t know,” I reply, unconvinced.

  “Come on. I’ll be your own personal tour guide,” he says sweetly, causing me to turn back toward him.

  “Fine,” I reply, giving in. “I’ll have to stop at home first and let Helen know.”

  I don’t know where my c’est la vie attitude went, but I can’t imagine not going back to the house or letting Helen know where I am. I’m not sure what the rules are for checking in, but as much as I want to just forget about it and have fun, my mind instantly worries about her freaking out.

  The classroom door opens and shuts, so I turn around in my seat, watching as the teacher walks in and drops a stack of papers onto his desk.

  “Good old Helen,” Harry whispers. “I’ll come round at half past four then and we’ll get her approval before we leave.”

  I nod, and before I know it, the teacher is playing us a video and then writing out words and definitions on the whiteboard. I try to focus on what he is saying, but all I can think about is that Harry saved me a seat, even though Olivia is in the class.

  And it makes my heart swell a little.


  I consider whether or not I should change for our date. But if we are getting together right after school, Harry won’t have time to change, so I probably shouldn’t either.

  I also wonder how Helen will react when I tell her that Noah’s best friend is taking me out.

  When the clock hits four, I let out a sigh.

  Finally.

  To my surprise, Noah is waiting for me out in front of the school. His arms are crossed over his chest, and one of his legs is bent, his heel against the wall. I thought he might give me crap, but he’s looking at me like he doesn’t hate me.

  “All right, I’m ready,” I almost sing out, walking toward him with a smile.

  The crisp fall air immediately hits me, and it makes me feel like I’m back in New York. I practically sigh at the sensation.

  Because the first day is over.

  And Harry wants to see me again.

  “Someone’s in a good mood,” Noah comments, pushing off the wall and walking alongside me.

  “Someone is. My first day is finished.” I’m practically glowing as the words come out of my mouth, thinking about Harry. “But I’m still in desperate need of some coffee. Do you mind if we stop to get some?” I do my best to give him a little pout, sticking out my bottom lip at him.

  “You’re addicted, aren’t you?” He laughs.

  “Basically. So?” I urge.

  “We can stop for a coffee,” he finally says.

  “Yes!” I smile at him, feeling accomplished. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” I wrap my arms through his, giving him a little hug.

  Noah rolls his eyes at me, but he doesn’t pull his arm away, and before I know it, we’re around the corner and in a coffee shop.

  I’m a good time.

  4:45pm

  “Give me your hand,” Harry says, turning back to look at me.

  His eyes are warm and inviting, so I place my hand into his as he leads me up a set of thin stairs. When we get to the top, wind pushes the hair off my face, the open air cool against my skin.

  “Well, what do you think?” he says, dropping my hand as he outstretches his own, trying to showcase our surroundings. His smile is wide across his face, and he looks pleased with himself.